The morning sun peeked through my window, casting long stripes of golden light across the floor.
I was already awake.
I had been for a while, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling with my hands folded behind my head and my heart beating steadily with anticipation.
Today was the day.
I turned six years old two weeks ago.
And today, I would officially step into a new phase of life:
My first day at the Trainer Academy.
I sat up slowly and stretched.
Pidgey, who'd been curled on the perch by my window, ruffled his feathers and let out a soft chirp, as if to say "About time."
I smiled.
"Good morning."
He flapped once and landed on my shoulder.
We didn't need to say anything else. We'd trained long and hard for this moment. And I knew—we both knew—we were ready.
Pidgey – GreenPhysical stats nearing peak for current evolution. Aerial agility refined. Emotional and cognitive bonds maximized.Sublevel: Deep.
He had come so far.
From a scared, injured bird with a bruised wing... to a focused, battle-ready partner with full flight control and near-perfect maneuverability.
And I hadn't done it alone.
Every morning since Kira and I first made our pinky-promise, we had trained together.
She and Koma, her Machop, brought energy, impact, and relentless drive to every session.
Kira didn't just train—she attacked her goals. Her workouts were always loud, fast, and explosive. But over time, she'd learned patience. Precision. Timing.
And Koma? He had become a powerhouse.
His form tightened. His strikes landed faster. His stance improved.
From a strong kid with potential, he had evolved into a fighter with discipline.
Koma – BlueGrowth stabilized. Balanced between raw strength and developed form. Highly compatible with coordinated strategy.
They were still loud.
Still passionate.
But more focused.
Like flame honed into a cutting torch.
As I got dressed in my new academy-issued uniform—a fitted gray tunic with blue accents and the academy crest embroidered over the chest—I glanced at the small shelf where my notebooks sat.
So much of my growth was hidden in those pages.
And not just mine.
I paused for a moment, my mind slipping into memory.
[Flashback – Two Months Ago]
We were in Damos's backyard, watching Machamp go through his standard drills—punches, grapples, footwork.
I had studied his patterns silently for days.
And finally, during a quiet moment when Kira and Linae had gone inside, I turned to Damos and spoke carefully.
"I've been thinking… maybe what Titan needs isn't more strength drills."
Damos raised a brow. "Oh?"
I looked up at him, trying not to seem too confident.
"What if… he worked on flexibility instead? Like… balance-based routines. Core rotation. Controlled movement. Something like yoga."
He blinked.
"Yoga?"
"Yeah. It could open up new flow in his strikes. Help him rotate faster. Adjust his body during complex exchanges."
Damos didn't dismiss it.
He just nodded slowly.
"Can't hurt to try."
They tried it.
And a month later, it happened.
I still remember the morning Damos ran to our house, eyes wide, waving a Guild-issued Aptitude Report in his hand.
"Ray! You won't believe it! He broke through!"
Machamp had finally passed the final barrier.
His Aptitude was now Purple.
Machamp – Purple(Undisclosed to the world, but visible to me: Light Purple)Combat mastery awakened. Efficiency peaked. Flexibility and mental stillness unlocked final gate.
We all celebrated.
Even Kira cried a little.
Damos ruffled my hair so hard I almost fell over.
"Kid," he said, "you've got something special. Don't ever let the world tame it."
I shook the memory away and stepped into the kitchen.
My parents were already up.
My mother placed a plate of warm berry pancakes in front of me, and my father handed me a cup of freshly squeezed fruit juice.
"Excited?" he asked with a knowing grin.
"Nervous," I admitted. "But ready."
My mother sat beside me, brushing a lock of hair from my forehead.
"You've already proven how serious you are. Now it's time to show the academy what you're made of."
I nodded.
Pidgey pecked a bit of fruit from my plate and flapped once.
"Are Kira and Damos already heading out?" my dad asked.
"They said they'll meet us at the main gate," I said. "We're in the same class."
He smiled.
"Then go with confidence, son. And remember—aptitude isn't just about numbers. It's about what you do with what you're given."
"I know," I said, standing up.
"And I'll make the most of it."
As I stepped outside, academy bag over my shoulder and Pidgey perched on my arm, the road ahead looked long.
But not lonely.
Because just down the street, I saw Kira waving furiously, Koma standing proudly beside her.
Our journey had truly begun.