The officer mentioned that the Pokémon were of the Alolan variety, and Nova took a closer look. They were a group of Alolan Digletts.
They were certainly rare, but the sight of their bald little heads, each topped with exactly three golden hairs, gave Nova pause. Even if one of them happened to carry a purple nameplate — marking it as a Pokémon of exceptional potential — and even if their ceiling was at most blue-tier, Nova knew he would need a long time to mentally prepare before he could seriously consider catching one.
After all, a three-haired Diglett was already a little hard to look at. But an Alolan Dugtrio? That was something else entirely. Nova had no words for it.
After he made it clear, once again, that he had no interest in taking any of the poached Pokémon, the officer shook his head with a look of genuine regret.
"At your age, you really shouldn't have to be out here like this," the officer said. "With the talent you've shown, if you focused on your studies and got into a good university, you could go far. You'd make a name for yourself."
"I appreciate that," Nova replied with a small smile. "But everyone has their own path. Mine just doesn't lead through a classroom right now."
The officer didn't press further. They said their goodbyes, and Nova set off alone on the road back to Goldenlight City.
Since he had been the first to leave the base, and there was no one traveling with him, he found himself walking through the quiet wilderness of Purple Lychee Mountain on his own. The mountain was alive around him. It was April, and the first wave of Bug-type Pokémon hatchlings had begun to stir, crawling and fluttering through the underbrush as they entered their most active season. In response, flocks of bird Pokémon that fed on them were out in full force, darting and gliding through the forest canopy above.
More than once along the trail, Nova spotted flocks of Pidgey passing overhead. He glanced up and saw a sea of brown and cream — dozens of small birds riding the mountain breeze. But near the back of one particular flock, a few streaks of a completely different color caught his eye.
Blue. There were blue ones.
Blue Pidgey?
Nova blinked and kept walking. Then he stopped.
He stood still for a moment, frowning.
Something was wrong.
He thought back carefully. Even the rarest Shiny Pidgey were simply lighter versions of the usual color scheme — pale browns, soft creams. There was no such thing as a blue Pidgey. Not in any field guide. Not anywhere.
The moment that thought clicked into place, Nova spun around.
"Arno!" he called out, releasing Nidorino from his Poké Ball in one swift motion. He grabbed hold of his partner and hauled himself up onto Nidorino's back. "We're going after that flock — move!"
Nidorino let out a sharp cry and took off at once. Like a living boulder crashing through the undergrowth, he barreled down the mountain path with Nova holding on tight. Branches snapped. Loose stones scattered. The two of them tore through the terrain at full speed.
After about a kilometer, the flock began to descend. Nova spotted them settling in a small valley below and immediately told Arno to slow down.
He thought for a moment, then recalled Nidorino back into his Poké Ball. Arno's bulk was useful in a straight chase, but he was far too large and noisy to approach carefully. The last thing Nova wanted was to startle the flock before he had a chance to look properly.
Alone now, Nova moved quietly through the trees, edging toward the valley's mouth. Once he was close enough, he activated his Scan skill and swept his gaze across the flock.
A wave of white and green nameplates filled his vision — Pidgey after Pidgey. But one name stood out clearly from the rest, glowing in purple.
And it did not belong to a Pidgey.
It belonged to a Rookidee.
Nova stared.
The Rookidee was filthy. Its normally vivid plumage had been smeared with mud — caked over its feathers until the bright blues and greens were dulled to something much closer to the muted browns of the Pidgey around it. If he hadn't been looking for an anomaly, he might never have noticed it at all.
That's why I missed it.
Nova turned the situation over in his mind. In the Divine League region, Rookidee had no recorded wild habitat. There were no known populations here, no documented sightings. So what was one doing alone in the middle of Purple Lychee Mountain, hiding inside a Pidgey flock?
The answer came to him almost immediately.
The poachers.
This Rookidee had almost certainly been captured far from its native territory and transported to the transit base along with the other stolen Pokémon. Somehow — and this was the part that impressed Nova — it had managed to escape on its own. Stranded in unfamiliar wilderness, with no flock of its own kind and nowhere to go, it had done the only sensible thing it could think of: covered itself in mud and blended in with the locals.
That explains the purple nameplate, Nova thought. Its raw potential might not even be that high. How does a Pokémon barely past level ten break out of a heavily secured transit base by itself?
The answer, he suspected, had nothing to do with power.
Nova read through the full Scan result carefully.
Species: Rookidee Level: 16 Ability: Keen Eye Hidden Ability: Big Pecks
Traits:
Clever — High intelligence; becomes a resourceful strategist, especially in difficult situations.
Steel Feather — Has awakened Steel-type energy ahead of schedule, causing its feathers to become unusually dense and heavy. Defense is greatly increased, but Speed and Evasion are reduced.
Known Moves: Brave Bird (inherited), Rock Smash (inherited), Tailwind (inherited), Defog (inherited), Roost (inherited), Peck, Growl, Chatter, Fury Attack
Training Notes: Acquire TMs to broaden the moveset. Focus on developing Steel-type energy as a foundation for evolution.
Five inherited moves.
Nova let out a slow breath. Now he understood. That was why it had managed to escape. Even Arno — a Nidorino with Elite Four-tier potential — only had two inherited moves to his name.
The Steel Feather trait explained something else, too. Rookidee's base Speed was higher than Pidgey's, but it had been flying consistently at the back of the flock. The extra weight of its steel-dense feathers was slowing it down. It was faster on paper, but heavier in practice.
For a moment, Nova considered his options. If he sent Arno out right now, a single Thunderbolt would end this before the Rookidee could even react. The level gap between them was nearly thirty. There would be no contest.
But he set the thought aside.
Battling wild Pokémon was a normal part of a trainer's life. He had no issue with that. But using overwhelming force to subdue a Pokémon he hadn't even spoken to yet — one that had done nothing to him, that had survived on its own through nothing but cleverness and will — felt like entirely the wrong way to start things.
Pokémon were emotional creatures. They remembered how they were treated. There were stories in the news every so often about trainers and their Pokémon who never truly connected, relationships worn thin by a bad beginning, sometimes ending badly for both of them.
Nova didn't want that. If this Rookidee was going to be his partner, he wanted it to choose that. Or at least to understand what it was choosing.
Especially given that Clever trait. A Pokémon like this would know the difference.
He accepted the risk. If the Rookidee flew off and he never saw it again, then so be it. Some things weren't meant to be forced.
Nova stepped out from the trees and walked calmly through the valley entrance — no Poké Ball in hand, no Pokémon at his side.
The resting Pidgey flock erupted into motion the moment they spotted him. With a collective rush of wingbeats, they lifted off in a single wave and scattered upward into the open air.
The Rookidee was a beat behind. Its heavy feathers made takeoff slower than the others, and within seconds it had fallen to the back of the retreating flock.
"Wait," Nova called after it.
The Rookidee glanced back — just for a second.
"Is this really how you want to live?" Nova said, his voice steady and unhurried. "Out here in the mountains, rolling in mud every morning just to keep up with a flock that isn't yours?"
The Rookidee's wingbeats slowed slightly, though it kept flying.
Nova kept his eyes on it. "Your blue feathers aren't a flaw. They're yours. Come with me, and I'll make sure everyone knows exactly how remarkable you are."
The Rookidee didn't answer. It didn't land.
But for just a moment, it turned its head and looked at him — really looked — before the flock carried it over the ridge and out of sight.