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"Alright," Helena said and she wasted no time - except for the time it took her to get her pokemon from Santalune's center - teleporting them to route 3.

Route 3 - Lakeside

When the trainers reappeared, they were standing in the middle of tall grass with the Route 3 lake stretched out before them. Southward, Santalune Forest was a line of battlements that would have extended far west were it not for the softly glistening body of water, which the forest seemed content to line around until the horizon. Breeze loosed green blades as it sent ripples through the grass. In the distance, Zack could see preschoolers and Rookies fumbling about with their pokémon, more playing than training. Right beside the lake, lapping up fresh water, Zack spotted half a dozen yellow blobs of fur.

He placed his hand on Helena's shoulder as he walked past and told her to wait for a second, then broke into a run. The Pikachu turned, spotted him, then scurried into diverging directions. All but one, who was too fixed on its drink to hear the trainer running at it until the last second. A look of shock later, it tried to leap back into the safety of the tall grass, but Zack was faster and punted it about twenty feet into the lake.

It hit the water with a splash, churning up suds as it flailed about, screeching. Zack watched for a few seconds, counting down in his head, then felt a wash of satisfaction as the electric type howled and unleashed an angry wave of Thundershock through the water. Sparks crackled across the surface, followed by a dozen sets of bubbles. Then, one after the other, unconscious water types floated to the top. Mostly they were Magikarp, not worth the capture unless you thought you were up to training a Gyarados. But there were a few young Goldeen and a pair of small Corphish that looked freshly hatched.

He threw a pokéball at one of the crab pokémon. The ball bounded off its shell and swiftly shot back to him, dragging with it a mass of red light, which was soon sucked into the capsule. By the time Zack had it in hand, the ball was giving off a light pinging sound to signify the successful capture. The Pikachu was still screeching but sounded laboured, and was flailing less and less, clearly growing too tired to stay afloat. Zack sighed, and threw another ball to catch that one too.

"Helena, go catch one if you want," he said as he caught the pinging pokéball, and turned back around with a smirk. "Don't think too much about how you throw the ball, you won't miss if you just do it."

Zack walked back into the grass, keeping an eye out for a flying type. Some of the Rookies had been wielding Pidgey, and he knew Fletchling lived on this route from Helena. Either one would do for now.

"For now, I want to see how you handle yourself against a wild pokémon. Or several."

He had eyed a flock of dark shapes darting across the sky. It was difficult to tell what kind of birds they were at this distance, but it didn't matter. He pointed them out to Helena.

"Send Lilt up to get their attention. I want you to catch me one of those fliers. I'll trade it for my Pikachu, deal?"

A battle at such a range would be difficult, if not impossible. Helena would struggle to tell what was going on, or even keep track of her own pokémon while it was pecked to pieces by the flock of birds. Zack wondered if she'd think to bring the flying types towards the ground, or even the odds by bringing out the rest of her team. Or do something else, something he hadn't even imagined. Either way, it was a test. And if she passed, he'd get a flying type out of it. If she failed, then it gave his own pokémon an opportunity to gain a little experience.

"Damn, you slaughtered it," Zack said, smirking as he scribbled a few notes in his book. He dabbed a full stop and put the book away. As per the agreement, he tossed Pikachu's ball to Helena in exchange for Fletchinder. All they'd have to do is press a button on their pokédexes once they had their new pokémon and the trade would be officially registered. "I'll admit I was a little worried, but you pulled it off, well done."

Pokémon training had always been Zack's thing. He was the trainer in the family, off journeying and battling while Helena stayed home and concentrated on school. Now his sister was taking part in his interests and getting good at it. There was no way the girl he'd left alone this morning would have pulled off that fight, and the thought made him swell a little with pride. Even if the gym battle had wrecked her confidence, Zack believed she could do it. All it would take was a little more pushing.

"So," he said, "a battle. You feel up to taking me on? Or is destroying a pokémon over twice your level all you can do?"

Conditions? Zack raised an eyebrow as he took out a pokéball. Unless anyone said differently, trainers went by standard rules: one on one, go til you drop. The fact that Helena was so ceremonial about battling told him that he still had a lot of work to do.

---

Chilly autumnal air howled through the narrow valley's twists and turns. Damp grass swayed atop rises of boggy mud, which shimmered in the gleaming torchlight. It was ten years ago, and Zack struggled to wade through black filth that went up to his knees. He fumbled forward, trying to keep up a decent pace, the heavy rucksack forcing him to stoop in an odd, sluggish gait. Something smooth seemed sturdy underfoot, but suddenly shifted and Zack stumbled, taking a rotten mouthful of gritty muck. Spearow hung in the air beside the retching trainer, a wooden torch held sideways in its beak, its bright flame casting wavy shadows in the dark gulch.

The first month of training was coming to an end. Days were growing shorter and colder still, with winter on the horizon. At first, Zack's body had been wracked with aches and cold shivers, but over time they melded into a single omnipresent feeling of exhaustion. He was free to leave at any time, and it was a thought that pecked at his mind every now and then, especially when choking on s**t-smelling gunk. If he had to name why he stayed, he'd say it was to finally prove himself to that evil witch of a mentor, but a part of him suspected that he was simply unable to admit defeat. That, after all, was why he was here in the first place.

Doubled over in a fit of coughs, Zack felt the sharp clutch of Spearow's talons lock on his shoulder like fingers made of nails. He spluttered up what he hoped was the last of the black blobs of mud. Wiping his mouth, he took the torch and waved it through the valley, casting light further until it shone on a V-shaped split.

"Fantastic," the boy grumbled. He recognised the set up. One path lead on to the next route, and would eventually bring him out to solid ground. The other lead into a wild pokémon den. He wouldn't know which was which until it was too late. For a second, he considered sending Spearow in as a scout, but decided against it. He only had the one pokémon and couldn't risk losing it. He frowned, trying to work out the route he'd made so far, but the valley had been so long and winding that it was all too easy to get lost in the dark.

He slopped over to a firm rock peeking out of the mire and set his rucksack on it. Inside, he had a first aid kit, a six pack of potions, rope, bottled water, and cans of food. No can-opener, he noticed. There wasn't a map either, which is what he was hoping for. Although he struggled to understand the curvy lines and minuscule numbers, Zack decided that a map he couldn't read was better than no map at all. Checking every pocket twice, Zack shouldered the rucksack again and made a decision, with any luck the right path was the right path.

'Only fools expect fairness', Mariah told him once. 'Fools stutter and blame their failure on all but themselves. "It wasn't fair. I'd have won if things were different." Are you going to become a fool, Zack?'

"No," he grunted, pushing himself harder through the mud. Spearow took flight again, following close behind with the torch in its beak. As they passed through, smooth, mud-stained rocks shifted and opened their eyes.

'You will find yourself in situations outside of your control. Disadvantages, advantages. Your reaction determines the outcome. Do you drown..?'

A heavy burst of water hit the small of Zack's back and he was flung forwards, his left side sinking in the mire. He turned as he fell, catching sight of half a dozen Quagsire sat silently on the valley bank, their blue flesh stained with filth. Their eyes glistened silently as they crawled towards the trainer on all fours. Zack's heart tried to burst out of his chest and he grabbed the torch from Spearow, swinging it wildly, flames roaring as they trailed in arc after arc. The water pokémon hesitated, backing off momentarily, then proceeded forward, letting the fire brush harmlessly across their skin.

Zack grit his teeth and wrenched himself out of the boggy earth. A Quagsire pounced and he caught it with the length of his torch, almost crumbling beneath its weight. He twisted and flung it to the side, where it slammed into the valley wall and slid down into a heap. Ever slow, it flopped onto its feet and squirted another jet of water that dashed Zack across the cheek, freeing blood from his nose. Dazed, and with the other Quagsire closing in, Mariah's words became a bellowing screech in his mind.

'Or do you SWIM?'

Screaming loud enough to overpower Mariah's voice, Zack took command of Spearow and did everything in his power to stay afloat.

---

The training carried on for hours. Zack didn't go easy on Helena, and he hoped that she extended him the same courtesy. His pokémon were weaker than he would like, but he made up for it by trying to trap his sister, bait her into situations that she would struggle to escape. It was more challenging that he had anticipated, but his façade of undeterred confidence had seen years of practice. He found it easy to unnerve a weak or stupid opponent by simply pretending that everything that happened was part of his plan. Helena dwelled on her losses, and they held the danger of becoming a great weight that would stifle her growth as a trainer. Even if all he could do for now was lessen each individual loss's worth by heaping them upon her, Zack would do what he could to aid his sister.

He had to bring her to the breaking point. Smash her apart until she couldn't go on, then keep hammering. He had to try and drown her, and only then would he know if she had what it took.

Hazard's expression turned to dismay when her opponent disappeared. In truth, she was exhausted, but even a ghost pokémon made almost entirely from gas could get an adrenaline rush. She wasn't certain, but she felt that she had grown a little bigger. The Gastly that had hatched yesterday was so much smaller than the one floating there now, her core the deepest black, surrounded by a layer of gaseous chemicals, a bolder violet hue. She felt stronger. Merely battling other pokémon taught her much, and defeating them seemed to add to her power, unlocking new skills that she felt she knew all along.

Her master looked disappointed as his sister ended the battle. He frowned, rubbing the back of his head. "Really, already?"

He sighed, and Hazard was swept away in flash of red light.

---

"There's gonna be times where you can't just call it quits, you know," Zack said, returning Hazard's ball to his belt with a click. "What are you gonna do then, just refuse to take part?"

Zack almost laughed. He was a little out of breath, and more than a little on edge. A bead of sweat drained down his temple, and he felt his shirt stick to his back. He shook his head, looking up at the sky, whose blue light was beginning to fade.

"That's not how it works," Zack said incredulously, "What do you think training is? Learning a couple new moves, putting on some muscle and maybe beating a gym leader? No. It's a shift in perspective. It's a matter of changing at your core. You don't become a great trainer by being the same person you were at the start. You force yourself to be better. And you don't throw your hands in the air because you got a little bit tired for ******** sake!"