Vedanturf Town, Hoenn Region.
The late afternoon light filtered through gauzy curtains in the living room, casting soft shadows across the wooden floor.
Wally sat at the low table with a mug of tea that had long since gone lukewarm, gently stroking Ralts's head as she dozed against his side. Across from him, his mother watched with a look that was equal parts affection and worry, her hands folded too tightly around her own mug.
"You've been battling more lately," she said at last, breaking the quiet.
Wally didn't look up right away. He kept petting Ralts, who let out a faint, sleepy chirp. "Yeah," he said, with a small smile. "I guess I have."
His mother frowned. "How many is it now? This week alone?"
Wally counted silently on his fingers, then winced. "…Twenty?"
"Twenty?" she echoed, nearly spilling her tea. "Wally! That's not 'just getting experience.' That's a part-time job."
"I mean, some of them were really short! Ralts was able to finish most of them quickly."
Ralts made a proud, content sound in her sleep.
His mother sighed, rubbing her temples. "Sweetheart, I know you love this, and I know Ralts is helping you in ways no medicine ever could, but your health still—"
"—get checked every single day," Wally finished, holding up a hand. "Mom, the battles are behind the Pokémon Center. If I so much as cough funny, Nurse Joy is five seconds away."
His mother didn't look convinced. "Battling is intense. Exciting. And… physically demanding. You can't hide that behind a smile and a few cute wins."
Wally offered a grin anyway. "But it's not about the wins, really. It's about feeling strong. Not just in the body—I know I'm not built like Bruno or anything—but up here." He tapped his temple, then patted his chest. "And in here. I don't battle to prove something to other people. I battle because it reminds me I'm still moving forward."
A quiet knock came at the doorframe. Lily peeked in, her hair a little windblown, a bag of berries slung over one shoulder and a clipboard under the other. She stepped inside without waiting for an invite—typical.
"Hi!" she chirped, cheeks flushed like she'd run the whole way. "Sorry to eavesdrop, but I heard voices, and then I heard Wally talking like he was in a movie or something, so I had to come in."
Wally waved a hand lazily. "You're interrupting my dramatic monologue."
Lily bounced onto the couch beside him without hesitation. "Whatever. You're kinda famous now, y'know!"
His mother blinked. "Famous?"
Lily grinned, eyes wide. "Yup! Some kids call him the 'Shiny boy'." She wiggled her fingers like it was a magic trick. "Shows up outta nowhere, battles with only one Pokémon, and the one Pokémon being shiny."
Wally groaned and dropped his face into his hands. "Please tell me that's not still a thing."
"Oh, it's totally a thing," Lily said proudly. "But that one stuck for, like, a whole afternoon."
Ralts stirred sleepily at Wally's side, blinking up at the noise before nestling closer. Wally automatically reached down and stroked her head, his touch gentle.
Lily kept talking, swinging her legs back and forth like a ten-year-old with too much juice. "And you're not reckless or anything. You've got your water bottle and your whole 'breathe-between-turns' thing. Ralts gets all the headpats. And Nurse Joy sees you so much, she probably knows your blood pressure by heart."
His mother gave a tired laugh. "She did call me yesterday to check if his resting pulse had always been that low."
"I'm just saying," Lily said, springing to her feet again, "he's being responsible."
Wally gave her a grateful look. "Thanks for backing me up. Even if you also make it sound like I'm some weird spirit or something."
She beamed. "You're welcome, oh, Shiny boy."
He groaned again. "I hate that you're committed to it."
"I already made a drawing," she said. "It's got sparkles."
Just then, a sharp knock came from the front door. Three deliberate raps.
The room stilled. Ralts straightened up, alert now, the soft glow of her psychic energy catching the edge of the coffee table.
Wally stood, brushing off his pants. "That might be another challenger. I left a sign-up sheet at the Center bulletin board."
His mother looked skyward. "Of course you did."
Lily clapped her hands. "Ooh! Maybe it's someone strong this time! Or weird! Or both!"
Wally paused at the door and looked back. "Please don't let her give them nicknames." Then he paused, "Also, I promise not to pass out."
"That is… not the reassurance you think it is," his mother muttered, rising with a sigh as he opened the door.
...
The door creaked open, and Wally found himself looking up—way up—at a tall woman with silver-streaked chestnut hair pulled into a flawless bun. She wore a soft lavender blazer with a badge over her chest that read: Pokécharity Foundation – Trainer Outreach Unit. Her smile was sharp but kind.
"Wally, yes?" she said, as if they were old friends. "Wonderful. I was hoping I'd catch you before your next duel."
Wally blinked. "Uh… yes, I'm Wally. Can I help you?"
"You already are," she said cheerfully, stepping inside without a hint of hesitation. "Name's Esmeralda. I'm with the Pokécharity Foundation. We offer support to new or under-equipped trainers—starter kits, information, moral support, the occasional healthy snack."
Lily peeked around the corner, whispering loudly to Wally's mom, "She's fancy."
Esmeralda smiled as if she heard it. "We've been keeping an eye on up-and-coming local trainers—especially ones with a reputation for unusual partners." She glanced toward Ralts, who had hopped onto the couch and was watching warily, head tilted. "And let's just say… people talk."
Wally scratched the back of his neck, unsure whether to be flattered or worried. "I guess I've done a few battles…"
"Twenty-seven, actually," Esmeralda said, pulling a sleek tablet from her bag. "All in the back lot, all one-on-one, all with this charming little psychic."
Wally stared. "You're tracking that?"
Lily whispered, "Okay, now that's creepy."
Esmeralda smiled like she'd just handed him a fresh muffin. "We care about progress. Which brings me to this—your official Pokécharity Trainer Starter Kit!" She pulled a small pouch from her bag and handed it to Wally like it was a treasure.
He opened it carefully: five Poké Balls, one Great Ball, and a Potion.
Wally's eyes widened. "Seriously? For free?"
"Free as trust," she said. "But not without purpose. Because I'm also here to let you know about a new event—Watson, Mauville's Gym Leader, is hosting a Junior Trainer Tournament in the city plaza next week. Entry's free, and the prize pool is… generous. Might be a good next step."
Wally hesitated. "A tournament?"
"You don't have to decide now," she said with a smile. "Just show up and see for yourself. You might surprise even yourself."
He nodded slowly. "Okay. I'll… check it out."
Esmeralda beamed. "That's the spirit." She turned toward the door, then paused. "One more thing. On my way through Rusturf Tunnel, I heard some shouting. Echoes, maybe. Could've been nothing, but could've been a trainer in trouble. Tunnel's not far. Just a short walk west."
Wally straightened, suddenly attentive. "Did it sound like a battle?"
"Hard to say. Could've been an argument. Or something spooked. But…" She turned back to look at him, her eyes keen. "Sometimes a trainer's job isn't just about badges and wins. It's about answering when something needs doing."
Lily stood on her toes behind Wally and whispered, "She sounds like a quest-giver from a video game."
Wally nodded slowly. "I'll check it out. If someone's in trouble, I should at least see."
"Good lad," Esmeralda said, clasping her hands. "You've got the spirit. Don't lose it."
She exited as smoothly as she entered, the door clicking shut behind her.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Then Wally muttered, "Okay, but seriously… how does she know so much about me?"
...
Rustboro Cave, Hoenn Region
Grace.
The cave always smelled like damp rock and worry.
Grace sat on a smooth stone shelf deep in Rusturf Tunnel, the light of her lantern casting long shadows across the jagged walls. The cold air bit her cheeks, but she didn't shiver—she was used to this place now. Used to the echoing drips of water, the faint whiff of iron, the occasional startled Zubat.
What she wasn't used to was waiting.
A few feet away, her boyfriend Owen was half-buried in dust and dirt, fiddling with what remained of his excavation kit. His pickaxe had snapped two days ago, and the replacement chisel wasn't holding up. He looked frustrated, which for Owen meant a mild frown and extra blinking.
"You're going to wear your glasses out," Grace said, swinging her legs idly.
Owen sighed. "I swear we're one good hit away. Just… one more boulder."
Grace leaned back and stared at the stubborn wall of rock that separated them from the shortcut—their shortcut. The tunnel had been Owen's idea. "Why waste hours walking around the mountain," he had said, "when I can just make us a path through it?"
He'd meant it romantically. He always did.
But the reality of digging a tunnel by hand, with basic gear, and dodging the occasional territorial Whismur had proven... less poetic. And now, with the last boulder in the way and no working tools left, it felt like the universe was mocking them.
"I wish someone would just show up and help already," Grace muttered, mostly to herself.
And, as if the cave had a very specific sense of humor, footsteps echoed from the shadows.
Soft at first. Then a little more certain. A figure emerged—a boy with pale green hair and a face that said he wasn't totally sure if this was a bad idea yet. At his side floated a Ralts, which was expressionless.
He blinked at the sight of them, as if he'd stumbled into a play halfway through the second act.
"Oh," he said, lifting a hand in a hesitant wave. "Uh… Hi. I'm Wally. I come in peace."
Grace stood, a little startled. "Grace. And this is Owen."
"Hi," Owen added, straightening his cracked glasses like it was a reflex.
Wally tilted his head. "So… are you guys lost, or just hosting the world's most depressing picnic?"
Grace snorted. "Neither. We're trying to break through that boulder. Long story short, it's part of a tunnel my boyfriend's been digging so we can see each other faster. But the last rock's kind of... winning."
When she finished, Wally looked thoughtful. "Mind if I take a look?"
She led him to the boulder.
It was huge, jagged, wedged perfectly in the path. Grace had kicked it more times than she could count. Nothing worked.
Wally crouched, tapping it gently. Ralts hovered nearby, eyes glowing faintly. He turned to Owen. "Romantic. Bold move to dig all this by bare hands."
Owen shrugged sheepishly. "We were one swing away. Then the pickaxe snapped."
"Classic." Wally crouched down beside the boulder, inspecting it.
Grace exchanged a glance with Owen, then nodded.
Wally placed a hand against the rock, squinting thoughtfully. "Yep. That's a boulder, all right. Solid. Judgmental. Has the energy of something that mocks you quietly when you're not looking."
Grace raised an eyebrow. "You talk to rocks a lot?"
"Only the difficult ones." He tapped the surface. "Weirdly enough, I think I can help."
"You serious?" Owen asked.
"I mean, I look serious," Wally said, standing and brushing the dust off his knees, "but inside I'm panicking slightly. Still, Ralts and I have some ideas. Worst-case scenario, I cause a minor cave-in and we're all trapped together forever. So, y'know, win-win."
Grace blinked. "That was… not reassuring."
"I get that a lot," Wally said, flashing a smile. "Let's break some rocks."
...
The next couple hours were… messy.
Wally paced, muttered, sketched something in the dirt with a stick, and at one point tried tapping the boulder with a rock "just to test its mood."
Grace had never seen anyone try to negotiate with geology before.
Ralts stood beside him, patient and oddly regal for someone being asked to "psychically nudge a rock with extreme determination."
"I need pressure here," Wally mumbled, crouching beside the base. "Not a smash—more of a psychic chiropractic adjustment."
Grace and Owen watched as he rearranged pebbles, positioned sticks like they meant something, and instructed Ralts with the focus of someone solving a puzzle. She wasn't sure if Wally was brilliant, eccentric, or maybe just sleep-deprived. Possibly all three.
"Okay," Wally said finally, standing back. "Attempt number twenty-something. Ralts, you know what to do. Whisper at it with your mind."
Ralts glowed faintly, letting out a soft pulse of psychic energy. The boulder vibrated, just a little.
Grace held her breath.
"Come on… just a little more…" Wally whispered, as if he could sweet-talk bedrock.
Then—crack. A hairline fracture raced across the surface. Another shimmer of light, another push of psychic force, and with a deep, groaning complaint, the boulder finally gave in. It toppled backward with a solid, satisfying thud that echoed down the tunnel.
Owen whooped. Grace blinked in disbelief.
Wally stood there, winded, arms up like he'd just conquered Victory Road. "Ha! Take that, sedimentary resistance!"
Ralts wobbled slightly, drained but beaming. Wally dropped to a knee beside her in an instant.
"You okay? That was a lot. I mean, you moved a rock with your mind. That's, like… Jedi-level stuff."
Ralts leaned against his arm, visibly tired but expressionless at the same time.
Grace came over, wide-eyed. "That was amazing."
Wally waved a hand dismissively. "I've had worse ideas that didn't involve rocks."
"No, I mean it. You saved us from a lot of digging and back pains."
She hesitated a moment, then dug into her bag and pulled out a Poké Ball—not offering it just yet, but holding it carefully in both hands.
"There's someone I want you to meet," she said, quieter now.
Wally blinked. "Oh? Should I be nervous?"
"Maybe a little," Grace said, lips twitching into a smile.
She pressed the button, and with a burst of light, a Roselia emerged—petals bright, posture upright, like it was used to making a good first impression.
It gave a chirpy trill and looked around the cave with polite curiosity, then blinked up at Wally and Ralts.
"This is Roselia," Grace said. "My grandmother gave her to me. She's a little proud, but sweet. Likes sun, hates wet grass, tolerates tunnel air."
Roselia struck a little pose—flower-hands flared—then pranced in a slow circle around Wally and Ralts, inspecting them with cheerful flair. Ralts didn't react, but leaned closer to Wally, her eyes flickering slightly.
Wally chuckled. "Wow. She's... lively."
"She's earned it." Grace crouched beside Roselia. "I haven't really had time to train her the way she deserves. Not the way Grandma hoped I would. But I've kept her with me, all this time."
Roselia trotted back to Grace and nudged her knee, then turned to Wally again, curious now instead of showy. It took a step closer, leaned in, and sniffed—then let out a soft little squeak, something between approval and "huh."
Wally watched the interaction, quiet for once. "She's kind of amazing."
Grace nodded. "So are you."
Wally blinked, caught off guard.
"You just show up," Grace continued, gently, "and help strangers. You come up with some crazy ideas. And somehow it works. I think… I think Roselia would be happy with someone like you."
His eyes widened. "Wait—you mean—?"
She held out the Poké Ball, palm up.
"I'm not giving her away," Grace said. "I'm letting her go. There's a difference. And only if she wants to."
Roselia froze at that. Just for a breath. Its flowers trembled, a small ripple passing through the petals. Then it turned to Grace, stepping forward—pressing its green arm lightly against her leg, not with protest, but with a kind of farewell.
Grace crouched and met its eyes. "You've always been good at knowing what people need, haven't you?"
Roselia gave the smallest nod. Then, after one more moment—just long enough to linger—it turned toward Wally.
It tilted its head at him, looked once at the tired Ralts by his side, and seemed to make a decision.
With a quiet trill, Roselia walked to Wally's feet and settled there, upright and ready.
Wally stared. "Oh. Wow. Are you sure?" he asked Grace again, though his fingers were already moving—slow, careful—as he accepted the Poké Ball.
"I'm sure," Grace said, watching Roselia. "She understands."
"She's brave," Wally murmured.
"She's curious," Grace corrected. "She wants to see more. Help more. You do that."
Roselia gave a happy little twirl—still proud, still graceful, but something softer beneath it now. A hush of resolve. It wasn't being given away. It was choosing.
"Welcome to the team," Wally said, kneeling beside it.
Roselia gave a musical chirp that sounded almost like laughter.
As Wally turned to leave, Grace called out, "Thanks again!"
He paused mid-step, then turned with a grin. "Tell Owen to avoid any more dramatic tunneling. Unless it's for cake."
And with that, the boy, the Ralts, and the Roselia—newly recruited, newly bright—strolled off down the tunnel.
Grace watched them go, then turned to Owen, who was still blinking in awe.
"That was the weirdest rescue ever," he said.
Grace smiled, one hand still resting where Roselia had touched her knee. "Yeah. But weird works."
...
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