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A golden leaf drifted slowly through the still air weightless, fragile, dancing lazily like a dying butterfly.
Sawk stood in the heart of the bamboo clearing, unmoving, the expression on his face carved in stone. Across from him, Kael stood ready, crimson eyes blazing with anticipation.
"Before we begin formal training," Sawk said calmly, "I need to understand your current level."
For one-on-one instruction, precision was everything.
Sawk needed to know his student's limits before crafting a regimen that could refine him properly both in body and discipline.
Kael nodded once, taking a deep breath.
"Understood."
He'd already accepted Sawk as his mentor and that meant giving nothing less than full respect.
This test wasn't about winning. It was about showing his worth.
So he decided: he'd fight seriously, without tapping into his ghostly energy. Pure technique, pure will.
"Let's do this!"
---
Sawk drew in a breath, fists tightening at his sides, his stance grounded and stable. "Show me."
Kael's eyes flared with intensity.
A reddish aura ignited around his fists the telltale glow of fighting spirit.
"Haah!!"
With a fierce shout, he launched forward, his muscles coiling like springs before releasing a burst of explosive power.
The ground cracked under his step, dry bamboo leaves swirling in the updraft as he became a streak of dark motion.
The air split around his charge, his aura trailing firelight as his fist rocketed toward Sawk.
But Sawk didn't flinch. His calm eyes gleamed.
"Good form," he muttered, and raised one hand.
At the moment Kael's fist struck, Sawk's fingers curved and twisted with uncanny precision a subtle spiral motion that redirected the entire force.
The impact never came.
Kael felt his momentum bend unnaturally, a strange whirlpool of force twisting through his body. His energy dispersed in an instant.
The next thing he knew, the world spun —
WHUMP!
He hit the ground, tumbling through dry leaves before skidding to a halt several meters away.
---
Groaning, Kael pushed himself up, pulling a crumpled leaf off his cheek.
But there was no frustration on his face.
Only exhilaration.
"That… was incredible."
He could tell from that single exchange the level of control, the mastery of flow. Sawk hadn't just blocked his attack; he'd used it.
To Kael, that wasn't humiliation. It was an inspiration.
The stronger his mentor was, the more he stood to gain.
"Again!" he shouted, grinning.
Sawk smirked faintly. "Very well."
---
What followed was a storm of motion.
"Hyah!"
"Haah!"
Thud! Crack! Wham!
The sound of fists and feet striking echoed through the bamboo grove, each impact punctuated by Kael's determined grunts.
Minutes passed. Maybe hours.
At last, Kael collapsed to one knee, gasping for breath, sweat dripping freely onto the soft carpet of leaves.
His black skin gleamed under the sunlight that filtered through the canopy.
Dozens of small bruises marked his body not from malice, but from learning.
Across from him, Sawk stood composed, barely winded.
His steady breathing and serene posture made him look almost untouchable.
He studied the Machop before him carefully.
Strong fundamentals. Good reflexes. His instincts are sharp… and he's already built a personal fighting rhythm.
For a Pokémon so young, that was astonishing.
Sawk folded his arms, deep in thought.
"His power output is fine, but he wastes too much momentum. His rhythm's too rigid. I'll need to soften his motion teach him flow instead of force."
The plan came together quickly in his mind.
He looked up at the sun now blazing high above the bamboo tops, then turned to Kael.
"That's enough for today," he said evenly. "I've seen what I need to see."
---
As Sawk disappeared into the grove's shade, Kael remained kneeling, eyes fixed on the swaying bamboo above.
He was exhausted, sore, battered, and bruised but the fire inside him had never burned brighter.
This was the first time since becoming a Pokémon that he'd truly felt taught.
Back when he was a Mareep, the Electivire who trained him treated him like a project, not a pupil.
Later, in the Lightning Canyon under Zeraora's harsh guidance, he had grown stronger but not wiser. That training was all brutality and instinct.
Sawk was different.
His every movement carried decades of experience. Every deflection, every grip, every word had purpose.
Even this first "test" had given Kael more to reflect on than weeks of fighting could.
His mind replayed each movement, analyzing every counter, every subtle shift of balance.
A grin tugged at his lips.
"If just one morning with him feels like this," Kael murmured, "then this dojo's already worth the trip."
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