By the time Andre crested the last hill, the orange sun had already dipped behind the hills flanking Floccesy Town. Its remaining light stretched long across the fields, catching on rooftops and the banners hanging from wooden poles that lined the road.
"Finally," Andre breathed, pulling the brim of his hat lower. His legs ached, his travel satchel dug into his shoulder, and Shinx had been snoozing in and out of his arms for the last hour. The comforting weight was starting to feel like a warm dumbbell.
Floccesy Town wasn't large—maybe a handful more buildings than the village—but it had paved roads, streetlamps that hummed to life as night settled, and a Pokémon Center somewhere among the alleys and paths. Andre had hoped to make it before dark, find a cheap inn or cot, and return by morning.
But Floccesy, it turned out, was packed.
As he passed under a carved archway that welcomed visitors with stylized silhouettes of bird Pokémon, he was immediately swept up by the noise of young voices, flashing lights, and the smell of roasting skewers.
Dozens—no, hundreds—of trainers were crowded around an open square in the town center. Tents had been set up in rows outside the main buildings, and wooden stalls sold everything from travel gear to Fresh Water bottles chilled in blocks of ice. Fireworks crackled faintly overhead as a sign overhead blinked:
"Floccesy Spring Kickoff: A Trainer's First Step!"
Andre blinked. "A what now?"
A volunteer in a navy vest handed him a folded pamphlet and a skewer of grilled Cherubi. "Welcome, trainer! You just in from the outer routes? Sign-ups are closed for official matches, but the field challenge is still open if you're feeling lucky!"
"I'm just here for my Trainer ID," Andre said, but the woman had already moved on to hand pamphlets to a trio of new arrivals.
He glanced at the paper. Apparently, spring was when most licensed trainers began their journeys in southern Unova—and Floccesy, being just a few days' walk from Aspertia and Accumula, hosted one of the largest kickoff events. Newcomers could participate in battles, field trials, or "bond showcases" to win gear and even Pokémon from the local ranger rotation.
It was, in short, a full-blown festival.
Shinx stirred in his arms, ears flicking. Andre exhaled, long and tired. "Of course it couldn't be simple."
The Pokémon Center was booked for the next two nights, with a waitlist that stretched down the block. A few inns were still open, but their rates had tripled for the weekend. Andre's remaining coin was better spent on return rations.
He was just about to ask for directions to the ranger station when a cry echoed from the west clearing.
"Unauthorized Pokémon on the field!" someone shouted.
Andre turned—and then ducked as a jet of water blasted over the crowd. The crowd scattered as a drenched Growlithe yelped, tumbling back into its trainer's arms. On the raised dirt clearing, lit by festival lamps, a small blue blur darted between opponents with a scalchop in each paw—one small and razor-sharp, the other wide and chipped like a miniature shield.
"Is that an Oshawott?" someone gasped.
"No, wait—look at its stance! It's dual-wielding!"
Andre pushed forward, curious despite himself. The otter Pokémon stood with its larger scalchop strapped to one forearm like a buckler, the other held like a dagger. It deflected a Gust from a Pidove with the shield, spun forward, and whacked the bird midair with a thump that left feathers flying.
There was a pause. Then wild cheers erupted from the crowd.
A woman in ranger green blew her whistle. "That's enough! This Oshawott isn't registered—it wandered in from the wetlands last week and has been challenging trainers on sight! We're looking to rehome it—any capable trainer can attempt a bond match if they'd like to catch it legally!"
Andre blinked. He looked down at Shinx, who was wide awake now, ears twitching toward the challenge.
The Oshawott caught his eye across the ring. For a heartbeat, its stance dropped—not aggressive, but assessing. Then it spun both shells in its paws like a pair of short blades and barked a sharp cry.
Andre stepped forward before he could talk himself out of it. "I'll try."
The ranger nodded. "You got your ID?"
"I'm…getting it tomorrow. I've got three empty Poké Balls and a registered companion. Can that count?"
She eyed him. Then smiled. "Let's see what you've got."
Andre's heart pounded as he stepped onto the field. Shinx trotted ahead of him, tail lashing as the two Pokémon squared off.
The Oshawott made the first move—rushing forward low and fast, its heavier shell lifted like a shield to cover its face.
"Shinx, back and dodge—use a light Spark, just enough to sting!"
Shinx twisted to the side and loosed a crackle of electricity. It grazed Oshawott's side, sending a pulse of static through its fur—but the otter rolled with the hit and retaliated with a quick strike from the smaller scalchop.
The fight played out more like a sparring match than a full battle. Shinx was fast but cautious. Oshawott was relentless but never struck to hurt. It tested, defended, and adapted with each pass.
Andre didn't bark many commands. He didn't need to. Shinx read the rhythm, and together they wore Oshawott down without exhausting it. A final Spark left the water-type dazed, panting, and wobbling on its feet.
Andre stepped forward slowly, took out one of his Poké Balls, and held it low.
"I won't make you stay," he said quietly. "But if you're tired of wandering alone…"
Oshawott stared. Then, with the faintest puff of breath, it bumped its forehead to the ball.
Click.
The Poké Ball trembled once. Twice. Then stilled.
That night, after picking up a camp slot from the event organizer, Andre found a flat patch under a tree near the south fields. Dozens of tents dotted the area, filled with greenhorn trainers laughing, cooking, or trading stories about their first captures.
As he fed Shinx and Oshawott—who insisted on sleeping with both shells strapped beside it—Andre leaned back on his rolled-up cloak and gazed at the stars.
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[MC POV]If you'd told me two days ago I'd be camping with an electric cat and a dual-wielding samurai otter... I'd have laughed you off the farm.But here we are.And honestly?Not a bad start.