Wally sat cross-legged beneath a tree behind the Verdanturf Pokémon Center, back straight, hands resting on his knees, eyes closed. The sun filtered gently through the leaves, dappling his pale skin in a way that made the world feel briefly poetic. His breathing was slow. Focused.
Mostly.
Beside him, Ralts mirrored his pose with unnerving commitment—tiny hands resting on tiny knees, eyes scrunched in fierce concentration. A single leaf had landed on its head, unmoving, as if the forest itself had crowned it for effort.
A few feet away, Roselia reclined in the grass with the lazy elegance of someone who knew they'd already achieved enlightenment. Her blossoms were angled precisely toward the sunlight, petals fluttering like she was being serenaded by the breeze. If anyone here had successfully merged with the universe, it was definitely her.
Wally exhaled through his nose. "Alright. Feel the Aura. The energy that flows through all living things. Binding… surrounding…"
A pause.
"Not to be confused with The Force."
Ralts peeked one eye open, visibly confused.
"Right. You wouldn't get that one."
He cleared his throat and tried again. This time focusing on the air brushing his skin, the subtle hum in his ears, the rhythmic pulse of his heartbeat. Aura, according to the book, should feel like light behind closed eyes. A current match to your own. The pulse of the world, calling you to dance with it.
"I am the universe. The universe is me. I am one with—oh no, is that a Wurmple?"
He opened his eyes just in time to spot the bug inching up his shoe. He flinched, brushed it away gently. "Sorry, little guy. Wrong frequency."
Ralts mimicked the gesture with a small swing of its arms, trying its best to swat invisible bugs.
"No, no—don't copy that part. We're aiming for stillness."
Ralts paused mid-swat, visibly conflicted.
Roselia, without even turning her head, raised a single petal in Wally's direction like a silent rating card. 3/10. Amateur.
Wally groaned softly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Is it weird that I feel more stressed trying to meditate than I do mid-battle?"
He cracked one eye open to glance at Ralts. "You're doing better than me, and I'm the one with the book."
Said book—Understanding Aura: A Gentle Introduction for Beginners and the Occasionally Spiritually Clumsy—lay open in the grass beside him. The bookmark was stuck in Chapter 2: You're Not Broken, Just Buzzing at a Different Frequency.
Ralts closed its eyes again and straightened its back with renewed purpose. It had no idea what "Aura" was, but if Wally was sitting still, so would it.
Wally took another deep breath. In. Out. In. Find the stream, the book had said. Locate it. Let it guide you.
Nothing.
No pulse. No warmth. Not even a tingle.
Just silence.
Wally sighed, then chuckled softly. "Maybe I don't need to be the stream. Maybe I just need to float in it a little. After all, Roam wasn't built in a day."
He leaned back against the tree and closed his eyes—not in concentration this time, just to listen. Let the wind play its notes across his skin like a lullaby he didn't quite know the words to.
Ralts lay down beside him, still expressionless, but now pressing just close enough to share warmth.
Roselia stretched once in a showy flourish, then resumed basking, looking for all the world like she'd already transcended the material realm and was now just here for the flowers.
For a few still minutes, Wally simply breathed.
Aura was just one of the many strange paths he'd tried lately. Psychic resonance. Meditation. Tai Chi from a booklet. All in search of something he could do. Because while others could train their bodies with pushups and runs and harsh regimens, Wally's body had always reminded him—politely, persistently—that it had limits.
But maybe his spirit didn't.
And maybe that was enough. Even if the Aura never buzzed. Even if he never found the stream. Trying meant something.
His PokéNav chirped quietly beside him.
He reached over, squinting at the screen:
[TOURNAMENT NOTICE: VERDANTURF BLITZ TOURNAMENT – 2 DAYS REMAINING]
Right. That.
Wally sat up slowly, groaning as his leg tingled from having sat too long. "I almost forgot," he muttered. "We've got a tournament coming up."
Ralts perked up, brushing invisible grass from its knees, while Roselia extended both petals like a tiny diva ready for her stage debut.
Wally smiled faintly. "Alright then. Aura or no Aura… let's go make some waves."
He stood, stretched, and looked to the sky again. No great cosmic energy hummed in the air. No glowing insight. No world-shifting revelation.
But he had his Pokémon.
And for now, that was more than enough.
...
Vedanturf Town, Hoenn Region.
Verdanturf Town had always felt a little quiet—like a place built for whispers, not dreams. But that morning, it was anything but.
Banners flapped across the streets. Kids leaned over fences with homemade signs. The Pokémon Center was buzzing with trainers polishing Poké Balls like they were sacred relics. Even Roselia seemed vaguely impressed.
Wally tightened his backpack strap and stepped into the tournament grounds, tucked neatly behind the Contest Hall. The field was smaller than a League stadium, but brimming with excitement. White lines cut into the grass, forming four small arenas. A makeshift stage stood to the side, where a cluster of loudspeakers had been zip-tied to a pole with reckless optimism.
He wasn't alone long.
"Wally!"
The voice zipped through the morning air like a bolt of—well.
Sparky waved as she jogged over, her wild brown hair even more wind-whipped than usual. Her Pikachu trailed behind, making little sparks on the grass.
"You made it!" she said, grinning like a battery charged past capacity.
"I said I would," Wally replied. "Figured someone had to keep you humble."
She laughed. "Bold words for someone I'm going to meet in the finals."
"Confident," Wally said, "but I like it. See you there."
They bumped fists—carefully, so as not to jostle Pikachu or a quietly observing Ralts—and parted ways as the tournament bell chimed.
...
The crowd gathered as Gym Leader Wattson himself took the stage, full of energy and slightly off-mic.
"HELLO, VERDANTURF!" he boomed, blowing out several eardrums in the front row. "Welcome to the Rookie Blitz Tournament! For trainers with fewer than two gym badges, this is your time to SHINE!"
He adjusted his goggles and gestured grandly to a bracket screen behind him.
"The rules are simple! One-on-one battles, single elimination! Sixteen competitors, four rounds! All Pokémon must be officially registered, no substitutions mid-match! Winning trainers will move on based on performance—NOT just who knocks out who! So battle smart, battle bold, and most of all…"
He winked and struck a pose.
"Battle electric!"
Wally raised an eyebrow at Ralts.
Ralts, unimpressed, blinked once.
"And the final prize!" Wattson continued, practically bouncing with excitement, "Both finalists will receive a fully certified Thunder Badge replica and a power-boosting TM Volt Switch—and each will earn a week-long trial position as a Gym Assistant at Mauville Gym! That's right, not just the winner, but both trainers will get a chance to learn and grow alongside the Gym Leader!"
A ripple of excitement spread through the crowd.
Wally's heart thumped. A gym trainer. Not quite a leader, not quite a challenger—but someone trusted enough to teach. To guide. To stand their ground.
He swallowed. It sounded terrifying.
It also sounded perfect.
...
His first opponent was a jittery boy with a loud Whismur. It went down with one Confusion from Ralts before it could scream.
The second match, tougher—a determined girl with a surprisingly nimble Makuhita. Ralts took a hit and wobbled, but countered with a well-timed Disarming Voice that turned the tide.
Between matches, Wally caught glimpses of Sparky on the adjacent field. Her Pikachu zipped and sparked with flair, darting between attacks and leaving a trail of static. She fought with energy, with style.
But not recklessness.
Wally recognized it: the careful instinct of someone who had lost before.
...
By late afternoon, only four trainers remained.
Wally sat on the edge of the field, towel around his neck, water bottle in hand. Ralts leaned against his knee, unusually silent. It had taken a few good hits—this last trainer had used a Taillow that was fast and cruel with its aerial attacks.
"You okay?" Wally asked.
Ralts looked up, then nudged his hand with her head.
He smiled. "Good. We're almost there."
Across the field, Sparky gave him a thumbs-up. "Final's waiting!"
He nodded back.
...
The wind had quieted.
The cheers of the crowd were now more focused, tighter—no longer scattered celebration but anticipation. The semifinals were where glory became possible. Where a fluke run ended, or a real contender rose.
Wally stood at one end of the field, hands steady at his sides.
Wally sized up Julian—slick, confident, the picture of a polished Rustboro prodigy. The Gym Leader's badge gleamed on his jacket.
"I'm Julian," he said smoothly. "Sponsored by Roxanne herself. Top of my class at the Rustboro Trainer Institute."
Wally smiled. "Top of the class, huh? I'm more of a 'read the whole library and wing it' type."
Julian blinked, caught off guard.
Wally leaned in slightly, grinning. "But hey, sometimes the best moves come from improvisation."
The referee gave the signal.
"Let's battle!"
Julian tossed his Poké Ball with elegant precision. It burst open in a swirl of rock dust and gleaming light:
Lileep.
Wally recognized it instantly: ancient, slow, and sturdy—but with devastating special attacks and dangerous binding moves. A test of endurance.
He chose Roselia.
The little rose Pokémon stepped forward with a twirl, petals fluttering, thorns poised.
"Roselia vs. Lileep!" the announcer cried. "Begin!"
Julian's tone was crisp. "Ingrain."
Lileep rooted itself immediately, tendrils digging into the field like iron vines. Its body pulsed with regenerative energy.
"Stun Spore," Wally called.
Roselia leapt to the side, scattering golden dust like a dancer spinning through sunlight. It cloaked Lileep's body—but it didn't flinch. Already hardened, already too rooted.
"Ancient Power."
Rocks lifted from the ground and hurled through the air like meteorites.
Roselia took the first hit.
Wally didn't flinch.
Julian's plan was clear: wear Roselia down with raw pressure while healing off any damage.
But Wally?
Wally saw cracks.
Not in the strategy—but in the field.
"Leech Seed—wide," he said.
Roselia hurled seeds not at Lileep, but at the field—planting them in a growing arc that spread thorny vines across the arena. Slowly, surely, they began to tangle with Lileep's own roots.
The boy blinked. "What…?"
"Now—Growth."
Roselia shimmered, growing brighter, its chlorophyll humming in response to the natural sunlight.
"Poison Jab."
Roselia didn't strike once. She darted in twice in quick succession, dodging a second Ancient Power that now moved sluggishly—paralysis beginning to take effect.
Lileep groaned, its vines turning a sickly green.
Julian's jaw tightened. "Recover!"
But Leech Seed vines sapped the effort—slowing every twitch of healing.
It was no longer a clash of endurance.
It was a checkmate, already three turns deep.
"Petal Dance," Wally said gently.
Roselia spun forward in a spiral of pink and green light, striking again and again, until the rooted fossil finally slumped, unconscious.
"Lileep is unable to battle! The winner is Wally!"
Applause rained down. Even Julian stepped forward and offered a handshake.
"You don't fight like the average rookie," he said. "That was surgical."
Wally shook his hand, smiling faintly. "I've had time to study."
Behind him, Roselia raised a flower to the crowd, soaking in their cheers like sunlight.
And at the far end of the arena—
Sparky leaned against the fence, arms crossed, grinning from ear to ear.
"About time you finished," she called out. "Your final match is waiting!"
Pikachu bounced beside her, cheeks sparking with anticipation.
Wally sighed—smiled—then walked toward her.
"Let's make it a match to remember," he said.
"Oh," she said, eyes glinting. "It's going to be shocking."
...
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