Entry #6: Power-Ups

Power-up is a straightforward trope, as it does exactly what it says on the tin: power someone up.

In anime, Power-up can take a number of forms and has sub-variations depending on the need of the user and the setting they're in. These boosts can be permanent or temporary in nature, and their boosts can range from just enough needed to win a rough encounter to ██████ ███████ or even ███████ ██████████. After application, the Power-up can either alter the user's appearance on a variable scale, manifest as some sort of glowing aura, or perhaps something more subtle, such as a shift in the user's stance/mindset that onlookers might Instinctively Know is more effective. This last one is particularly dangerous, as it can invoke Rule of Cool's mystique clause. Getting buff, spitting lasers, and glowing like the sun is badass, yes, but due wariness must be given to a subtle Power-up.

Barring all other factors, a visual change is quantifiable to onlookers, and thus Rule of Cool's effect can be (very roughly) estimated. A non-visual Power-up, however, lets the audience's imagination run wild, and nothing is more fantastical to someone than their own imagination. The boost of a visual Power-up calculated before Rule of Cool will need to be considerable to overcome a non-visual Power-up, which theoretically ██████████ (testing required).

A Power-up is usually preceded by some exposition, boasting, trash-talk, the Power-up itself, how they will win the fight, or whatever. You get the idea. During the Power-up's first use or reveal, it will often have an Uninterrupted Sequence, not unlike the cutscene of a video game. Bystanders will watch on, stunned or incredulous. This happens often with Monologuing Villains, but the same can happen with Heroes. In the Hero's case, this is often a last-minute save during a decisive fight where they unlock some sort of new transformation or hidden power. In 99.9% of cases, the fight is already decided in the Hero's favor when this event comes to pass.

(Note to self: Don't let opponents Power-up unless we can slingshot the whole situation around into our own Power-up. Lulu is AWARE, but she might still be stunned by ████████████ into non-action.)

Pokemon themselves have this trope innately baked into their biology with evolution. A pokemon fights, grows stronger, and then gets a new, more powerful form as a perma-Power-up. I'm fairly certain that in the newer generations of pokemon, there were side evolutions and other transformative gimmicks that were ripe for exploitation. I still need to further my own Aura control and see about the construction of a Mindscape so I can recall those old memories better.

"One pulse, a pause, then two pulses, and an upward build means we both roar in sync and ignite enough aura to make a visible shroud, okay? And you've got to put some spirit into it. The louder, the better! In fact, we could-"

"Julian…" Lulu sighs, pausing her trainer's words. "Do we really need all these signals and theatrics? I don't mean to disparage you, but these maneuvers eat precious seconds mid-battle. Does being 'cool' really mean that much?"

Julian looks away from his partner's doubtful face to the notebook in his lap. He and Lulu are resting together in a patch of tall, tickly grass off the side of the road and enjoying the Sinnoh sun. Paul wanted to go on one last hunt before the group reaches Jubilife City and marched off with his pokemon in tow, claiming he'd be back in 'a while,' leaving Julian and Lulu to sit and plan things best unheard by others.

"Well…" Julian twirls the pencil in his hand and glances down at his notebook. On the page are a few scrawled lines with different 'maneuvers,' most of them intended to be relayed to Lulu mid-battle with pulses of aura from himself. In the corner of the page is a doodle of two stick figures in synchronized poses. One has spiky anime hair and the other has a jackal head. "I guess we do have, like, three pages worth. We can try these out before adding more." He clears his throat. "To answer your question, though, yes. Rule of Cool is a potent tool that synergizes well with most aspects of a pokemon battle. I know it's not the Lucario way to be flowery and dramatic, but if we pretend there is an audience watching us and do our best to entertain that imaginary audience, then there is almost no limit to what we can get away with. Imagine!"

Lulu still seems skeptical, her arms crossed under her chest spike. Julian can almost see the images of battles yet to be fought running through her head. She does a good job of hiding it, but her warbling aura gives off the feeling of impending embarrassment.

'C'mon man. Throw her a bone,' A tiny voice whispers in the back of the blonde's brain. 'Even for a pokemon, anime nonsense is still wack.'

"But you do have a point," Julian reluctantly concedes. "We can't make every fight dramatic. It would waste a lot of time and if we make every fight a curb stomp… Circumstances might try to humble us. Forcefully."

A shiver visibly runs down Lulu's spine at the word circumstances, but she pushes past the discomfort and nods.

"Hey, Lulu…" Julian hesitates and pauses. "If you're ever bothered by the shounen anime revelation, talk to me, okay? I know I dumped a lot on you."

"I'm fine," the Lucario smiles, and the warm but firm glow of appreciation in her aura tells Julian more than her words could. How a glow can be firm, the teen isn't sure, but that's what his own aura tells him. "It was a lot to take in, I admit, and I still ponder the things you've told me, but if I'm truly feeling unwell then you'll be the first to know."

Julian smiles back brightly.

'Lulu is handling everything well, not that I expected her to have some kind of existential crisis. She's too strong, too practical a 'mon for that. Living in a world that runs off of anime rules and being cognizant of the fact is still only one step left of eldritch knowledge, though, so vetting pokemon teammates is going to be a must before they get told the secret.'

Lulu suddenly perks up and turns her head. Following her eyes, Julian sees why.

Paul is trudging down the road towards them, Elekid at his side.

"Well, well! Look who's back!" Julian stuffs his notebook into his backpack and stands, Lulu following a second later. Both step out into the road and wait.

Paul grumbles something under his breath, his hands shoved roughly into his pockets and he and Elekid step up to Julian and Lulu. The younger boy's aura simmers, and Elekid's is twinged with a twist of shame, telling him the hunt didn't exactly go as planned.

Regardless, needling Paul is still fun… "So, find any interesting pokemon?"

Paul says nothing and glowers at Julian's smirking face.

"Okay, fine, don't answer." The blonde sniffs and turns his attention down to Elekid. "How'd it go down, little man?"

Elekid blinks, apparently still not used to being addressed directly. "Uh… We found this Honchkrow who was a jerk," Elekid's voice is scratchy and boyish, and his surprised eyes narrow as he recounts the apparent battle. "He was some stupid windbag who liked the sound of his own voice. Kinda like you," Elekid smirks back.

"Oooohhh, you fuckin' got me boyo," Julian is still all smiles, and that's probably the only thing keeping the retort he practically feels on Lulu's tongue from flying. "You hurt me deep down in my heart… but it sounds that much like me, Honchkrow could walk the walk just as much as he could talk the talk since Paul is empty-handed."

Elekid's smirk vanishes and Paul's scowl deepens.

"Ah, don't be so sour you two," Julian shrugs. "Win some, lose some, that's how she goes. Any of your pokemon hurt?" He returns his eyes to Paul.

"They're fine," the boy grunts and takes Elekid's pokeball from his belt, returning the short Electric-type to his ball in a flash of red. "Let's get to Jubilife. The sooner I can train my pokemon without damaging any forestry, the better."

The walk to Jubilife City resumes. While they move, Julian pulls his cell phone from his pocket, checking for service.

The cellphone is an ugly brick of a thing, not being a true smartphone, but rather a dumbphone that happens to use a sluggish touchscreen. The technological advancement of the pokemon world is all over the place, as evidenced by teleporters, holoprojectors, pokedexes, and other fantastic marvels existing alongside CRT monitors and flip-phones.

Hell, his phone doesn't even have a native browser. Julian had to install one himself. It was a painful afternoon combing Sandgem's tiny electronic store for a cord that fit the phone, then finagling on a command-line interface to install the dubious app he found online from Robert's ancient computer over to the phone. Not that the browser is all that useful, anyway. Most non-Pokemon League establishments only use a barebones website if they even have one.

'On the plus side…' Seeing as he still has no signal, Julian hums and puts his phone away. 'Remaining on the device detox the pack forced on me is nice and easy. Seeing a pokemon-flavored 'wild west' internet is nostalgic, but man, the lack of QoL gets to you fast.' Then another thought comes to him. "Hey, Paul?"

Paul grunts, still marching with his balled-up hands in his pockets. "What?"

"How do odd jobs for traveling trainers work?" Julian asks. After a second of thought, he adds; "Is there a website or something where requests are posted? Do people just flag you down? Or is it all centralized somewhere, like at a pokemon center?"

"Bumpkin…" Paul snorts derisively. "All of the above. There isn't a standard. Some clients hang around pokemon centers and battlefields to make requests in person, some put ads in newspapers, and others have the local center put up posters or something. Just keep your eyes open."

Julian ignores the younger boy's contempt. "Really? Interesting… What are the ones you usually take?"

"Depends." Is Paul's one-word answer. For a second, it seems like he isn't going to elaborate, but before the silence can grow awkward, he continues. "Does it pay good, can it double as training, and does it involve working with morons? Those are the questions I ask."

"Truly, everyone must be leaping with joy at the thought of working alongside someone such as you, Paul…" Lulu rolls her eyes.

The Lucario's words are lost on Paul, but the sarcasm is not, as he turns to her with a frown. "Tch, whatever…"

An hour passes as they walk, the silence broken by Julian and Lulu's idle chatter with the occasional comment from Paul. No pokemon care enough to approach them, and Julian doesn't feel any with his 6th sense that are worth challenging. Before long, the treeline begins to thin and the shining metropolis of Jubilife begins to take shape on the horizon. And the closer they get, the more and more Julian feels Lulu's aura bubbling in wonder at the tall, gleaming buildings.

"What's it like, being in a city?" Lulu suddenly asks, her ruby eyes pulling Julian in with her puppy-like eagerness. "I've heard passers-by with the pack talk about big human cities, but we're not even there yet, and already it takes up so much of the horizon!"

Normally, Julian's first reaction to hearing someone ask about city living would be to laugh and dash their hopes across the ground, but he stops before the first chuckle can bubble out of him. 'Pokemon, Julian, pokemon. Cities aren't dirty and crime-infested here unless being a 'bad' city is their gimmick. Even then, they aren't anywhere near as bad as 'bad' cities on Earth.'

DARPA had Julian travel to several other government offices and contracted laboratories in the past for his job, often to oversee server migrations and whatnot. By the time he hit 30 years old, the blonde man had seen New York, L.A., Washington D.C., Chicago, and other cities often held in high regard by popular media.

He didn't find any reason to stay longer than needed.

"Well…" Julian hums to himself as he thinks of an answer to Lulu's question. "Jubilife is the biggest city in Sinnoh and one of the biggest in the world. There's always going to be something going on, and there is always something to do. I bet the nightlife is wild. There's a lot to take in, so don't worry if you get overwhelmed. It happens."

If Lulu is put off by the underwhelming answer, it doesn't show on her face. "Always something to do?" She tilts her head, and Julian resists the urge to reach out and pet her between the ears. "Like what?"

"Tons of things," Julian shrugs. "Shops for anything you can think of—and probably a ton that you can't think of. Movie theaters, tours, restaurants and street food… pokemon contests and probably pokemon battles, too." He says, his last examples are added as afterthoughts. "You know, I wouldn't mind seeing a pokemon contest."

Paul scoffs, jumping into the conversation. "Pokemon contests? Really? Why would you waste time watching a contest?"

"What's a pokemon contest?" Lulu asks, intrigued. "What sort of contest is it?"

Julian gives Paul a flat look. "There is more to pokemon than battle, Paul. Pokemon Coordinators shine in all sorts of areas that battle-oriented trainers could learn from. Watch one sometime. Shit, let's book some seats for the next one in Jubilife. I know they have a Contest Hall."

Paul harrumphs and turns away, facing the road once more.

The blonde then turns to his curious pokemon. "The contests I'm talking about are competitions between pokemon and trainers, but rather than battle, the focus is more on aesthetics and performance."

"Aesthetics and performance, huh?" Lulu crosses her arms, and Julian can see that she too is skeptical of contests.

"Yeah," Julian nods. "Most places run an appeal round, where the trainer and pokemon put on a performance for the audience. Sing, dance, make a big light show, whatever you think will wow the crowd. The best ones move on to either another appeal round, or a battle with another coordinator." He raises a finger. "The catch with these battles is that judges are watching and grading the pokemon and trainers for their style mid-battle. A pokemon can lose the battle but still be declared the winner because they went down with grace."

He can feel Lulu's aura slowly churn as she digests the info. "That seems…" she pauses, and Julian can tell then she doesn't seem to understand the point. "Interesting."

"It makes more sense once you see one."

The city grows larger and larger as they walk towards it, eventually leading the group past a colorful metal sign saying Welcome to Jubilife! Pop: 598,000. Just beyond the sign, the dirt road abruptly ends, replaced with solid asphalt.

The first thing Julian notices is the sudden mass of auras beginning to pop up on the edge of his 6th sense. So many little winking lights suddenly flare to life in his mind's eye that it's almost dizzying, and there are so many that he can't make sense of any single one. He looks over to Lulu and frowns.

The Lucario's eager smile is falling, replaced with a flat, neutral expression as aura signatures more numerous than anything she's ever felt before suddenly assail her. Where her face conveys nothing, her aura is plainly anxious.

'If it feels weird to me,' Julian clicks his tongue. 'Then it's got to be bordering on overload for Lulu, and it's only going to get worse as we get into the heart of Jubilife.'

"Lulu, you okay?"

The pokemon turns her eyes to her trainer, putting on a thin smile. "I'm fine."

Julian raises an eyebrow. "Are you just saying that, or do you actually mean it?"

Lulu doesn't answer.

Wordlessly, Julian pushes a minuscule amount of aura from his skin, making an invisible, buzzing cloud form around him. The technique, one he picked up from watching Pops, slowly sucks down his aura reserves faster than he can replenish them, but his own externalized aura blunts the uncontrolled signatures from Jubilife and casts a fuzzy cover over his 6th sense.

Lulu, being so close, is enveloped in the aura cloud as well. Her shoulders slump in relief, and despite her trying to appear disapproving of the stunt, the frown on her muzzle comes off as more of a pout.

The blonde grins and bumps his shoulder with hers.

Through the southern border of Jubilife's city limits, Julian, Lulu, and Paul pass through a bustling suburban district filled with homes and join the foot traffic on the sidewalk. All the while, Lulu's head is craning around, taking in all the sights with wide, ruby eyes.

Houses of all sorts, sometimes with children and small pokemon playing in the front yard, dominate the landscape with the skyscrapers of the city serving as a beautiful backdrop. Cars of unusual make are parked along the street and in driveways, oftentimes in the form of modest sedans and compact hatchbacks. The trucks and crossovers Julian is so used to seeing in middle America are nowhere to be seen.

Trodding along the sidewalk, the pair of obvious trainers and the rare pokemon garner more than one stare. Children pause in their games to point, often with exclamations like, "I'm gonna be a pokemon trainer too!" Adults lounging on their front porches in the cool afternoon after a day of work just smile or wave.

In the front garden of one of the houses they pass is a toddler kneeling in the dirt next to an older lady wearing a sunhat and gardening gloves. On the little boy's other side is a small, kitten-like pokemon that Julian doesn't recall the name of, one with green fur and vibrant pink eyes.

The obvious grandmother and her grandson pause in their gardening when Julian, Paul, and Lulu walk by, a bright smile crossing the elderly woman's face. "Peyton, honey," she lightly touches the toddler's shoulder. "Say hi to the trainers!"

The little boy beams and raises a dirt-stained hand to wave at them, the kitten at his side raising a pink paw to do the same. "Hi!"

Paul ignores every look sent his way, marching forward with his eyes straight ahead and his hands jammed in his pockets. Being just a few feet away, Julian can still feel Paul's aura through the cloud dulling his and Lulu's sensory abilities, and to the blonde's amusement, under Paul's annoyance is embarrassment at the little boy's open admiration.

'Hahhh. Is the poor guy secretly shy?' Julian smirks at the thought, then smiles back at the grandma and grandson pair, waving back as he does so.

At his side, Lulu follows suit with a bright, genuine smile of her own.

The sheer delight on the little boy's face makes Friendship tingle in Julian's chest.

Further in, passing through several streets and growing close enough to the heart of Jubilife that the skyscrapers begin to dominate the skyline, a curious, cheery jingle begins to carry through the street.

Lulu tilts her head and flicks her ears. "Music? It's getting closer."

With a hum, Julian focuses on the noise. A half-remembered childhood memory comes to him, but he can't seem to shake off the cobwebs and put his finger on where he's heard this exact tune before. "I swear I've heard this before…"

Then the source turns the corner ahead and slowly drives down the street, and Julian almost feels like kicking himself.

The noise is an ice cream truck. The boxy little truck is plastered with colorful stickers of frozen treats and has a speaker on the top playing the nostalgic tune.

'Arceus, I feel old. I actually forgot what an ice cream truck was for a second.'

In the window of one of the houses nearby, a small, round face peers out curiously before catching sight of the ice cream truck. The curiosity swiftly transforms into a smile and the kid in the window disappears. Hardly a minute later, the front door of the home flies open as a gaggle of eager children pour out, bills clutched in their tiny hands. A watchful Luxio follows out shortly after, keeping a careful eye on all of the kids.

With a grin, Julian turns to Lulu. "Want some ice cream?"

She blinks and tilts her head. "Iced cream?"

"Did we really never hit up an ice cream parlor in Sandgem?" Julian scratches his chin with a hum. His other hand shoots out to grasp Paul's backpack, stopping the grumpy trainer from walking off and leaving them behind. "Well, let's fix that now."

The truck pulls up to the side of the road before the driver parks and throws open the window on the side of the vehicle. Julian, Lulu, and an annoyed Paul stand off to the side, letting the eager children line up first before taking the back of the line.

One by one, each queued-up child hands over crumpled bills or a handful of coins and gets a frozen treat in return, but to Julian's silent bewilderment, the person manning the ice cream truck is no man at all.

The truck is being run by a lone Delibird, one wearing a soda jerk hat and a white apron with a pink ice cream cone pin on the chest.

The penguin-like pokemon gladly takes money handed to him in his flippers, quickly counting it, sorting it away in a register, and producing whatever goodie asked of him from the freezers lining the opposite side of the truck.

As the line of children dwindles and allows him and his friends closer, Julian leans to the side, peering into the driver's seat of the truck and finding it empty. What he does find, however, is blocks of wood taped to the gas and brake pedals so a squat form (like a Delibird) can reach them.

"Here you go, enjoy!" Delibird cheerfully hands a cone with a single scoop of vanilla to the girl just ahead of them.

"Thank you, Delibird!" The little girl is all smiles and skips off to follow her friends.

Delibird's grin only grows wider, though he reigns it into something more contained as he lays eyes on Julian, Lulu, and Paul. "Always nice to see older kids who don't shy away from 'baby things' like a visit from the ice cream bird," Delibird chortles. "What can I get for you?" He asks, gesturing down to the menu plastered under the window.

"I…" Lulu looks at all of the selections unsurely. Julian can see her eyes glide across the names of the assorted treats, and he feels her aura buzz in light frustration when she can't read most of the words. Each one has a picture, thankfully, but the Lucario still hesitates. She subtly turns her eyes to him, looking for guidance.

"A chocolate cone is always a good pick," Julian shrugs, reaching into his back pocket and withdrawing his wallet. "Hard to go wrong with a classic."

Lulu nods slowly. "A chocolate… cone for me, thank you."

"And I'll take…" the blonde trainer scans the menu once more, his eyes landing on a tantalizing pink bar on a stick covered in cake crumbles. "A Pecha shortcake pop. Paul?"

"I don't want anything." The other boy grunts, making Julian roll his eyes.

"One scoop of chocolate and a Pecha-pop comes to…" Delibird hits a few buttons on his cash register, and on a little digital display on the back of the register, $4 flashes. "Four pokedollars, please!" Delibird reaches a flipper out and taps the number.

'Pokedollars. That still gets a laugh out of me.' Julian smiles and hands four 1s to the pokemon.

As Delibird stashes the money away and turns around to prepare the ice cream, a question strikes Julian. "Say, Delibird? Did you have to get a permit or license to drive around and sell ice cream?"

"Well sure I did!" Delibird reaches up to tap a frame above the freezers and just short of the ceiling.

Julian leans in, Lulu and even a curious Paul following.

In the frame is a laminated City of Jubilife Business Permit, a health inspection report with a big green PASS stamped on it, and a photocopy of an Arceus-honest driver's license with Delibird's smiling face.

'I don't know what I was expecting.'

"They made poor little me jump through so many hoops just so I could sell treats to the boys and girls of Jubilife!" Delibird puffs up indignantly and he whirls around, shortcake bar and chocolate cone held out for Julian and Lulu to take. "Take it from me, miss," Delibird addresses Lulu as he hands the frozen desserts and a wad of napkins off. "Being independent is all fun and games until you have to fill out tax forms…" The Ice-type groans and slumps over dramatically.

Lulu's smile is somewhere between awkward and diplomatic. "I'm certain having a profession is rewarding, though, correct?"

"I'm yanking your tailfeathers," Delibird stands up and brushes off his apron. "I love what I do, even if there is sometimes a morning or two where I really wish I stayed up on Mt Coronet or found a trainer. It's just a coincidence that those days are the same days I need to go to Town Hall to get all my permits renewed, yes indeed."

Lulu clicks her tongue. "I think I'll stick to having a human deal with all of that for me…"

Julian chuckles as he raises his ice cream to his mouth, taking a bite. 'I didn't know pokemon could hold jobs or own property. I guess there's no reason they can't, but it's so much of a hassle that few bother if Delibird here is any example. This universe is definitely much bigger than the canon anime and holy hell this Pecha bar is tasty…' He slows down, savoring the sweet, unique flavor that coats his mouth without being overbearing. 'I think I found a new favorite… and it looks like I'm not alone.' He looks over to Lulu with a smile.

The Lucario holds the cone awkwardly between both her paws, seemingly unsure how to properly grasp it, and gives the chocolate ice cream a tentative lick. Her chocolate-covered tongue darts back into her mouth and she smacks her lips. Once the taste fully hits, she looks down at the ice cream with wide, ruby eyes filled with undisguised delight, and behind her, her tail slowly wags. She immediately goes in for another lick, smudging her nose in her haste.

Julian can't contain his smile and almost, almost succumbs to the urge to grip his heart for just how cute the scene is. Then he stops. 'Julian, you live in an anime. Let it happen.'

"Hhhnnnnnnngg!" Julian claws at his chest with this free hand, his smile messing up his theatrical grimace. "Arg, Lulu!"

She's by his side in an instant, alarmed. "Julian?! Julian, are you okay?!" Her serious visage is utterly ruined by the smudge of chocolate on her nose.

"You…!" He struggles out between snorted giggles. "Are so… adorable that it hurts sometimes." He can't stop the cavalcade of laughter that breaks out of his lips. "I knew the ice cream was a good idea!"

An embarrassed red blush blooms across Lulu's muzzle. "Adorable?!" She nearly squeaks. Her next words come out with a growl. "You jerk! I was worried about you!" She slaps her trainer's shoulder with a broad paw and scowls, but the red across her face remains.

Julian lets his laughter taper off and hands her one of the wadded napkins, tapping his own nose. "You got a little somethin' there."

The Lucario's blush darkens as she wipes away the sugary stain.

The trio moves off to the side as several straggler kids come out to the ice cream truck, attracted by the siren call of the truck's tune. As Lulu begins munching down on her cone with gusto, too focused on getting the last bit of chocolate inside to notice much else, a sudden stirring of negativity off to the side draws Julian's attention.

On the porch of the house behind them, a number of the neighborhood kids are gathered, sitting and chattering about this and that as they enjoy their ice cream.

All but one sullen, empty-handed boy that is. The boy, maybe nine or ten years old, sits on the porch steps and watches his friends enjoy their snacks with open jealousy. Both of the pockets of his shorts are turned out.

'Ah, man. Broke when the ice cream truck rolls around? That's rough,' Julian pulls the last bite of his Pecha bar off the stick and lets it melt in his mouth. 'I'd be pissed too. Sympathies, kiddo.'

"Hey, kid."

Several pairs of eyes, Julian and Lulu's included, lock onto Paul, who stares down the depressed boy on the porch.

The kid jumps, eyes wide. Hesitantly, he points to himself. "M-Me?"

Paul says nothing in reply. He jerks his head back in a 'come here' gesture.

All of the kids are now watching as their empty-handed friend slowly and meekly walks over. As the boy walks, his friends all 'whisper' to each other.

"What did Doug do?"

"Why is that big kid mad?"

"Are those guys pokemon trainers?"

The chatter is quick, and the more it continues, the grimmer the speculation becomes. The grimmer the speculation becomes, the more Doug begins to tremble.

The boy, Doug, stops several steps short of Paul, who sneers and thrusts his hand out.

Doug flinches, raising his hands in defense, then he stops and blinks at what he sees.

In Paul's hand is a five-dollar bill.

"Quit moping and get something from the bird," Paul demands, shoving the money into the boy's hand. "I overheard you and your pals earlier. You want to be a trainer?"

The boy nods absently, seemingly stunned by the act of kindness. "Y-Yeah. Who are you?"

"Paul Shinji, and if you want to be a trainer who is worth anything, then start by cutting the moping." Paul gruffly says. "If you don't take being a trainer seriously and pull the 'woe is me' act when things don't go your way, then you'll drag the whole sport down. You may as well quit then." Paul turns towards Jubilife and starts walking. "Enjoy the handout. You won't get any as a trainer," he says over his shoulder in the most backhanded way he can. "Angelo, Lucario, let's go. We haven't got all night."

Julian almost can't believe his eyes, a disbelieving chuckle bubbling out of his throat. "Well, well, is that some character growth I'm spotting?" he mutters to himself. He shares a look with Lulu, who looks just as lost as him, then looks back to the awestruck children whose eyes are glued to Paul's back. 'Seems like Lulu and I aren't the only ones who can cultivate Rule of Cool. Paul played the nonchalant cool guy role perfectly, and I'm willing to bet those kids are going to be looking for him on any televised matches now.' Shaking the thoughts away, he and Lulu jog to catch up.

"That was mighty friendly of you, Paul," Julian grins and claps Paul on the shoulder, almost making the shorter boy stumble. "Actually taking my advice to heart?"

"I did it because I knew you were thinking of it and would have nagged me afterward if I didn't," Paul grunts. "It still seems like a load of bull to me, but all the weird stuff you can do has convinced me to try…" he pauses and takes a breath, as if steeling himself. "To try and be a little… friendlier." He grounds out as if it pains him.

Julian laughs, but inwardly he growls as his own failure suddenly reveals itself. 'Fuck. I didn't even think of helping that kid out.' He stills his aura so Lulu won't question the sudden surge of irritation. 'Lulu and I need to start building a follower base to exploit RoC and market ourselves later. We've got Sandgem, but the town is barely four thousand people and we have to split their affection with Lucas Johansson. Paul started a grassroots following right in Sinnoh's largest city without even meaning to. Those kids are going to talk to their friends about the 'cool trainer' who bought their pal ice cream and then did the Walk Into The Sunset thing. Then those friends will talk to their friends, their siblings, their schoolmates, then before long, Paul could have hundreds of uncontested fans rooting for him and empowering his pokemon. If I had played my cards right, it would have been me and Lulu soaking up that attention.'

'I'll have to keep this in mind for later…'

With the sun descending, the trio finds a middle-of-the-pack hotel on the edge of the city proper. They check in, and then drop their things off in their room. Afterward, Paul promptly ditches Julian and Lulu, saying he'll be back "sometime later," leaving the pair to their own devices.

For a time, they sit and rest, and Julian, now bereft of roughly half his aura, slowly begins to release the sensory jamming technique he's been sustaining for nearly two hours. Julian finds himself quickly able to ignore the countless thousands of aura signatures in Jubilife as the cloud of his own aura dissipates, but Lulu spends the entire time meditating until she tiredly declares she's put the bombardment of auras out of her mind. The way she tenderly rubs her temples suggests otherwise, though.

"Now what?" Julian lays back on his and Lulu's bed. The featureless white ceiling stares back at him. "Want to order take-out and call it an early night? Or we could head into the city if you're up to it." He looks up as his partner and only pokemon.

Lulu sits on the edge of the bed, idly fingering one of her paw spikes. "I'd like to see what Jubilife is like at night," she says after a second.

"Is your head feeling better?"

Lulu scoffs and looks down at him. "A little headache is hardly worth crying like a whelp over."

"If you're certain, then let's hop to it." Julian sits up and walks over to his discarded boots, fitting them on and lacing them up. "You know, in the Pokemon media, there was a Pokedex entry about Lucarios getting stressed out around people. I forget the full entry, but maybe it was about being around so many people at once?" He hums. "Food for thought."

"That's still so strange, I heard you put a capital letter on 'pokemon' somehow…" Lulu murmurs before shaking her head. "Perhaps there is some truth to that," she answers. "I know none of my kin have ever been around more than about a hundred or so individuals before. Enough about that, though." She smiles. "I want to see this 'nightlife' you were talking about."

Julian smiles back and checks his pockets one last time. Phone, room key, wallet, Lulu's pokeball. Perfect.

Time for a night on the town.

Over the next few hours, the pokemon and trainer tour the huge city, wandering on whims and with no destination in mind. The entire time, Lulu's head is swiveling around to take in the utterly alien surroundings with a Riolu-like awe. More than once, an amused Julian has to take her paw and pull her along, lest she be stuck gaping at something.

They first stop by the Pokemon Center to grab a map of Jubilife, then circle around to the city park where a small crowd watches a band play in a gazebo. A human band consisting of a guitarist, bass player, and drummer is led by a Chatot singer of all things. The small parrot pokemon looks ridiculous standing on a barstool with an equally tiny microphone held in his talons, but the voice that comes from his beak sings in perfect, emotion-filled english. Each and every song is met with a standing ovation, Lulu and Julian eagerly joining in.

Next, they wander up what has to be the pokemon's equivalent to Times Square, as the road splits off in several directions, each one flanked by high rise buildings coated in bright, holographic signs. Many street performers make their home here, and each one is more eye-catching than the last.

On one corner is a man and a Hitmonlee breakdancing in-sync as onlookers cheer: "Go! Go! Go!" The retro boombox at the performer's feet is the only thing that can be heard over the cheers.

On another is a street magician wowing anyone who would walk up with seemingly impossible card tricks. He would rip up, burn or even have the Lunatone at his side crush the cards in dark orbs of energy, but a frowning Lulu points out the little flares of aura around the Lunatone when the pokemon seemingly isn't assisting. After watching it a few times, the pair realize Lunatone is teleporting cards into the magician's pockets.

The best performer, however, is an aged woman and an equally aged Typhlosion making glass sculptures with nothing but a basket of glass rods and a pair of tongs. The elderly pair, working as a team, create beautiful works of art that they hand out to the delighted crowd. With Typhlosion heating the glass using tiny jets of flame from his mouth, more precise than any furnace, the wizened trainer can fashion incredible, almost lifelike works right before the eyes of everyone. Julian and Lulu only leave because the artists run out of glass to use and retire for the night.

Finally, the pair descend into an underground mall after aimlessly walking around a simply enormous department store serving as an entrance.

And by Arceus, what a sprawl it is.

Even though the time is pushing 9 PM and the sun has long since gone down, the mall is packed with people and pokemon, and the variety of stores is simply staggering. There is everything Julian expects and more, like a music store, a book store, a jeweler, a mammoth electronic store proudly proclaiming they sell the latest and greatest pokemon smartwatch, the Poketch, and a food court that they stop and eat at, sampling a little of everything.

'Maybe we'll skip on the greasier choices next time.'

The deeper they go, the more things seem to depart from normal, and into pokemon territory. A regular, licensed pokemart right next to a miniature Pokemon Center, a place selling only exotic pokeballs, a store selling specialty pokemon food (and the lunatic owner standing out front trying to "sell" how good it is to disgusted onlookers by opening a can and eating some himself).

Lulu, ever so pragmatic, declined to buy anything for herself through the entire trip, sans her food court meal.

Julian, however, indulged himself a little, buying four things. One was a sturdy chain to replace the frayed leather cord of his Keystone. The woman at The Sable's Eye, the jeweler, tried to upsell the teen on a solid gold chain, but reluctantly settled on selling a much cheaper (and more robust) chain of gold-plated steel.

The other three things were regular pokeballs. One to replace Lulu's old and battered ball, and two spares for teammates. All three hang from his belt, two of them only fashion statements at the moment.

Finally, they reach the furthest end of the mall, and stop at the most curious spot of all.

"The Dungeon?" Julian reads the name of the location aloud as he looks at the entrance.

The glass door is blacked out, the only marking being the name and "24/7" marked on the door in paint marker. The windows appear to be covered with gym mats of all things. There is no other hint of what might be inside.

Looking around, Julian sees it's just himself and Lulu down this far. The shop across the way is vacant with a "For Sale" sign in the window, and the nearest open store, a leatherwork shop, is two spots down.

"Place is deserted…" Julian grunts. "Did they do what most malls do and push the sex shop down to the end?"

"S-Sex shop?" Lulu's expression twists into something appalled with a hint of a blush across her muzzle. "There are shops for that?! There are younglings running unattended in the mall! There should at least be a warning!" She gives the blacked-out door an indignant glare.

Julian shrugs. "I dunno what the lack of signage is about, but now I'm curious. Let's go look," he grins.

Before the Lucario can protest, Julian grabs her paw and throws the door open, pulling her inside with him. He looks around, only to feel his grin fall.

Inside is… a regular-looking gym. Not a Pokemon Gym, but an actual, normal exercise gym. There are weights in one corner, machines in another, miscellaneous bits of equipment in another, a small lounge, and a door labeled "Bags / Ring / Sparring" leading further inside. At the front desk, a bored girl is doing a perfect Disinterested Teenage Employee schtick, complete with an open magazine and bubblegum in her mouth. Other than Julian, Lulu, and the girl manning the desk, the place is empty

"Lemme guess…" The girl at the front desk puts her magazine down and gives Julian and Lulu a stare that could not be more bored. "You thought the place was a porno store or a strip club," she states, not asks.

"Get that often?" Julian returns.

"Every day…" she rolls her eyes and blows an impressive bubble with her gum. It pops with a snap that echoes off the far wall. "Disappointed?"

The blonde shrugs. "A gym is fine, too. The food court alone justifies a gym visit," he says, looking back to Lulu. "You game?"

The Fighting-type nods and takes another look around, confirming to herself that she isn't in some kind of den of vice with a relieved expression. "Yes, I wouldn't mind working off dinner… What's a 'strip club'?"

Julian ignores the question, pretending he heard absolutely nothing. "How much for a few hours?" He asks the girl running the counter.

"Fighting-Types and their trainers get in free." The girl lifts her magazine back up and flips a page. "Per Dungeon rules, by working out here, you agree that you're here at will and are responsible for your own safety and all that jazz." She makes a flippant gesture with a hand before resting her chin on it. "You know the drill."

Julian rolls his eyes, withholding his snarky comment. Turning, he eyes the equipment in the room with a frown. It's been six, maybe seven years since he's visited an actual gym, and proper usage of anything more complicated than the weights or a treadmill escape him.

He turns his gaze to the doorway on the far wall leading further into the gym. "C'mon, Lulu."

With Julian's valuables and boots along with Lulu's gauntlet stored away in the small locker room, the pair walk over and hop into one of the two rings. As they stretch and warm up, Julian scans the room.

The space is set up like a boxing or an MMA gym. There are two raised rings for gym-goers to use, a number of weighted punching bags along the wall, several rows of cubbies with beat-up padded gear stored away in them, and a few rolls of wrist wrap resting on top of the cubbies. In the back corner is a closed wooden door labeled "Office." All in all, it's a spartan setup.

"Alrighty," Julian grunts and squares up as Lulu does the same. "Fight 'til surrender or a pin?"

Lulu smiles. "Ready!"

Julian breathes out, focusing his aura and-

"What the hell are you two doing?!"

-flinches when a loud voice booms off of the walls. "Hey, who the fuck-!" He turns to the voice and stops.

Clearly, the Pokedex was wrong again about the sizes of pokemon, as standing in the doorway is a glaring, duffel bag toting Machoke who must be at least 6'4". Even with Julian standing in the raised ring, the muscular, humanoid pokemon can almost look him directly in the eye.

The pure Fighting-type is ripped. With limbs like tree trunks, fists the size of bowling balls, and a chest that looks more like steel armor than muscle, he cuts an intimidating figure.

Frowning, Julian stretches his senses out and almost recoils in surprise.

Inside the Machoke is a powerful, tightly wound aura, one that stands head and shoulders above most of the pokemon they've encountered tonight. Not only does he look tough, he actually is tough.

"What do you mean?" Lulu takes point in the conversation, narrowing her eyes at Machoke. "We were getting ready for a workout?"

"A workout…" Machoke questions, glaring at Lulu as if she were an idiot. "Like that?" He asks, gesturing with a broad hand to both her and Julian. "Where are your wrist and ankle wraps? Your gloves? Why are you in jeans?!" He points at Julian for the last question. "And there's no mixed pokemon sparring for kids! You'll get hurt!"

"Whoa whoa whoa," Julian walks over and leans on the edge of the ring. "This is how we always spar. What's the problem?"

"The problem," Machoke steps closer, dropping his duffel bag to the floor, defiantly staring Julian in the eye. "Is that you aren't following the rules."

Julian glares right back. "And who the hell are you to start cracking down on us about rules?"

Machoke's aura jumps in surprise at being understood, but his face remains firm. "I'm the boss of this gym."

'Why does that line sound familiar?'

Then Machoke sighs and lets his expression soften. "Look, come down here and put some gear on. If you wanna spar, I'll take ya. I know how to pull my punches, okay?"

Lulu gives Machoke a look of affront, crossing her arms. "You're saying you, a stranger, are a better sparring partner for Julian than his own pokemon? Or are you implying there's something wrong with how we conduct ourselves?"

The humanoid pokemon clicks his tongue. "I'm not saying you're wrong or being malicious, I'm saying we use a method here, a safe method. I'll spar with you too. I'm not gonna steal a workout from you."

'I hope he realizes what he's getting into by saying that…' Julian reaches his aura out to Lulu and blankets her, silently trying to soothe her ire. "Whatever you say, brother. We're not out to make trouble," he says, glancing back to Lulu.

Thankfully, she sighs and nods, following his lead.

Machoke's face lights up into a warm smile. "Right. C'mon down, little man. I'll show you how to wrap up and I know we've got some spare shorts in the back."

Julian hops out of the ring and follows.

True to his word, Machoke pokes his head into the Office in the corner of the room, talking quietly with someone there before he's handed a pair of light shorts covered in sponsor decals. He hands them to Julian. "Here," Machoke says. "Get out of that jabroni outfit, would you? If I hear anyone say 'I ripped my fuckin' pants' one more time…" He lets the comment hang.

'Jabroni?' Julian scowls 'Where have I heard these lines?' He wonders once more. Regardless, he heads to the locker room, storing away his shirt and jeans and re-emerging in the borrowed shorts.

Machoke beckons both Julian and Lulu over to a bench off to the side of the room, a roll of athletic tape in his huge hands.

"Alright, little man. Take a seat and gimme your hand," Machoke straddles the bench and unrolls the tape. He gives Lulu a look as well. "Both of you watch closely. You mess up a wrist wrap and you'll be sorry when you bust something."

As Machoke expertly wraps up his wrist in the stiff tape, Julian glances back at the office door. "So, do you actually run the place or did you mean something else by the 'boss of this gym' line?"

A frown crosses Machoke's muzzle. "Nah, the place isn't mine. My father's trainer owns the Dungeon. I'm the only one who comes by and uses it lately, though. I keep coming so the old man's dream can keep living, if only a little." His aura dips into a deep, melancholic valley. "The old man… got messed up on his pokemon journey as a kid. He was the kinda guy who would train with his pokemon, like you, but father got too excited one day and…"

Machoke pauses, and although his face remains neutral, his aura twists on itself painfully, so painfully that Julian's own aura pangs with sympathy. "The old man's had a bum leg ever since. He had to return home, lost a lot of weight, had to do therapy, the whole nine yards. He's a tough old bastard, though. He and my father opened this place and they dedicated three decades of their time to teaching Fighting-types the most important lesson of all: control. My father went to join Arceus a few years ago, so it's just me and the old man now. I'll keep the lessons goin' as long as I can." Machoke finishes wrapping Julian's first wrist and starts on the next one, his own hands moving with a gentle sort of dexterity. "The gym used to be up in the city, but bills were piling and we had to move down here to the mall. Foot traffic isn't all that good, though…"

'That explains why he was so anal about the rules. I'd be pissy too in his shoes…' Julian's annoyance with the Fighting-type evaporates. At his side, he sees Lulu's ears fold back and feels her aura darken.

Machoke finishes wrapping Julian's hands, then in short order wraps his ankles as well. With a satisfied nod, he walks over to the cubbies in the wall and tosses Julian a pair of padded gloves and a helmet. "Alrighty, little man. Let's get to it," he says, donning his own giant set of gloves.

Both teen and pokemon hop the perimeter of the ring and settle into stances. Julian eases into the starting form for the still nameless Lucario style, while Machoke raises his fists into a more traditional boxing stance.

"What are we fighting to?" Machoke questions.

"Pin, surrender, first blood, whatever is fine." Julian shrugs.

Machoke's lips pull themselves down into a frown, his hands lowering some. "Pin or surrender is fine, but I'm not going to be slugging you hard enough to draw blood."

"Now see," Julian shakes his head. "There's a difference between being fair and being patronizing in a fight. You're discounting me unfairly."

Now it's Machoke's turn to shake his head. "No, I'm not. I know the limits of a kid, and I'm not about to seriously injure you like that. That goes against everything I was taught."

Lulu scoffs from her place at the side of the ring. "Saying you know your foe before you even clash comes off as rather arrogant."

Machoke gives her a glower, then focuses on Julian again.

"Look, can we start this or no?" Julian grumbles, tapping his foot without falling out of his stance.

"Yeah yeah, let's begin," Machoke raises his fists into a half-hearted guard. "Get ready…"

'His fists might be raised,' Julian narrows his eyes and focuses on Machoke's easy-going aura. 'But his guard is still down.'

"I'm only going to warn you one more time…" Julian sniffs and lowers himself slightly. "Take this seriously."

Machoke nods, but his stance changes none.

Inside of the aura-empowered teen, his Fighting Spirit roars at being looked down upon.

'Go!'

Faster than any human should be able to, Julian blurs forward and ducks right under Machoke's guard. Fist clenched, Julian rises to his full height and sends a screaming-fast uppercut into Machoke's chin.

Almost in slow motion, the blonde watches Machoke's eyes widen as his face ripples from the skull-rattling blow. His teeth click shut painfully, and his head shoots back. Despite Machoke being so large that he should weigh three hundred pounds, his feet almost lift off the ring floor.

The slow motion ends and Machoke stumbles back several steps, a hand shooting to his chin. His aura jumps and snaps with surprise, disbelief, and pain. He pulls his hand away, looking down blankly at the smudge of blood from his split lip.

No focus is needed to feel the smug delight in Lulu's own aura signature.

"So…" Julian smirks and settles back into a neutral stance. "Going to take this seriously? If you agreed to first blood, round one would have already been mine."

Machoke stares at the red on his hand and rubs his fingers together as if he can't believe his eyes. Reaching back up, he touches his lip. The split is already healing, but his fingers still come back a little more bloody than before. "...How did you do that?" He whispers.

"I told Lulu here that we and anyone else who wants to come would make it to the top of the world together," Julian lets the corny non-answer out with ease. The thought of his promise to her makes speaking the lines so easy. "And I mean together. We'll be the very best…" He grins. If his next line was any cheesier, he might start tasting it. "Like no one ever was. We're not doing this as master and servant, or owner and pet, but partners, and partners pull all their weight. In play, in training, in everything. I teach her, she teaches me, and everyone is better off for it."

Lulu beams. Julian can almost see the room growing brighter, and her aura flares and dances gaily, putting on a show only he can see.

Clap clap clap!

"Now that's the cut of a jib I can get behind!" A cheery voice laughs.

Everyone turns to the voice.

Standing in the doorway of the office is an older man, maybe in his fifties, of vaguely asian (kanto?) decent with short gray hair and a wide smile. In the crook of his arm is a wooden cane. He stands leaning on the door as he claps, then he takes his cane in his hand and stands straight with its support. "It's not often I get to see a kid with a good head on his shoulders."

The old man hobbles over to the ring and looks at the line of blood running down Machoke's chin with an appraising eye. "You took one awful hard to the mouth, didn't you?"

"It's only a bloody lip," Machoke dismisses, crossing his arms as he replies.

"There you go acting all tough," the old man huffs out a laugh. He then turns to Julian and Lulu. "I'm Darkholme. Nice to meet you kids. Sorry for interrupting your bout, but I didn't expect Machoke to take a hit that nasty."

"Julian is the name," the blonde grins. "You probably heard her name, but my partner here is named Lulu."

"The pleasure is all ours," Lulu inclines her head politely.

Darkholme smiles back. "I haven't seen either of you on TV. Are you just starting out?"

"Yeah, we're heading to Oreburgh in a few days," Julian lets himself rise out of his stance into something more casual.

"Hhmm…" Darkholme perks an eyebrow. "Is Miss Lulu here your only pokemon?"

"She is."

The gym owner smiles. "Well then," he looks up at Machoke. "Why don't you go with these kids, Machoke? You've been cooped up in this gym for too long."

"I can't!" Machoke whirls around to face Darkholme. "The Dungeon is your dream and I want to keep it alive! I want to keep teaching your lessons!"

Darkholme watches Machoke calmly as more and more objections spill out of the pokemon's mouth. Although Julian can't be sure how well the old man understands Machoke, he evidently understands enough to reply succinctly. "Machoke," he cuts off any further protests with one word. "Power is nothing without proper control. This is the lesson I've imparted to everyone willing to learn under me, you most of all, but I think you've learned that lesson too well…" Darkholme raises his cane and taps the handle against Machoke's arm, producing a sound more like tapping a stone. "You hold back so much, so often, that now you're hobbling yourself. You don't know your real abilities because you keep pushing them away in the name of control."

Machoke watches, dumbfounded.

Julian and Lulu both remain silent. Or at least Julian remains outwardly silent.

'Now this is some shounen drama.'

The old man's eyes sharpen. "You're crippling yourself, Machoke. You work so hard, growing and growing, but never using that strength. Your father wasn't anywhere near your level at your age, and he could throw fists with the best of them. There is nothing here to push you, nothing to use that might for. Can you even call on that strength anymore?"

"I can!" Machoke insists.

"Show me," Darkholme challenges.

Machoke stiffens.

The old man turns his dark-colored eyes to the boy and Lucario watching the unfolding drama. "Here is a little biology lesson for you children," Darkholme begins. "Machoke are well-known for their incredible physical strength, strength so ludicrous, that they have pre-stretched folds of skin so their muscles don't rupture their skin when they flex their might. Maybe you've seen it before, the red lines running up and down a Machoke's arms?"

'Hey, yeah…' Julian recalls the features on the one Machoke who worked at the Sandgem airport. Along his arms were thick lines of red skin. He looks at Darkholme's Machoke, feeling an odd, sinking sensation when he notices the red lines running down his muscular arms are paper-thin.

"The more tightly closed those folds are," Darkholme smiles gently. "The more the Machoke is compressing their muscles and holding back."

'…' Julian feels sweat drip down his face. 'Machoke here is as big as his cousin back in Sandgem, if not bigger, and he's holding back that much?'

Julian recites a silent thanks to the higher powers that Machoke wasn't jumpy enough to turn him into pulp.

All the while, Machoke is silently struggling to do as Darkholme ordered. He grits his teeth, clenches his fists, and growls, hunched over slightly as he tries to force his muscles to flex. The slits in his arms grow only a millimeter, but the bulk of his arms grows a noticeable amount.

Julian tries to imagine what Machoke would look like at his full potential, and the image conjured is… frightening. 'Broly was his name.' He remembers the fictional villain from the most well-known shounen of all time, Dragonball Z. 'Broly was that ultra super saiyan that was a living mountain of muscle and hate. I did not just stumble on the pokemon world's Broly, did I?'

After another silent minute, Machoke growls one final time and grows.

His muscles balloon and his already tight skin is stretched taut. His skin flushes with a red hue, and veins rise all over him, pulsing rapidly as his heart works overtime to keep up with the sudden demand. Bones shift and groan as Machoke gains another several inches of height, easily standing seven feet tall. The growl that comes out of his mouth is too deep, too guttural to have come from a humanoid, and the sound alone rattles the walls.

But for all the changes, the most dramatic is the one to his aura.

A horrible, spiritual weight settles over the room and Julian sucks in a breath as a primal, unnatural fear grips him. The fear of an end that cannot be escaped, just like with Pops, and just like with the rogue Garchomp. With a gulp, the teen pushes his own aura out, barely making enough of a buffer to let him breathe laboriously.

Faster than the eye can see, Lulu is in front of him, in a stance and ready to defend him with her shining red eyes narrowed. Her own furious aura washes over him, easing his nerves and taking pressure off of his chest.

'Lulu, please never stop being the best.'

Then as sudden as the transformation came, it's gone. Machoke shrinks back into himself with a cough and a gasp, leaning over the ropes of the ring as he sucks in deep, heaving breaths.

With the pressure gone, Julian takes a relieved breath and tries to calm his racing heart.

Lulu stays in her ready stance for a moment, then straightens up. She remains between Julian and Machoke, however.

Darkholme, unruffled and unbothered, frowns. It's a decidedly disappointed expression. "You can't even call upon it all for five seconds, let alone use everything you have."

"Old man…" Machoke gasps and stands up wobbily. "I can! I can control it! I can-"

"Stop." Darkholme halts any protests. His frown melts into something apologetic. "I suppose… this is my fault, as well. I knew your father lamented his mistake over and over to you, no matter how much I told him I forgave him." The man sighs. The shadowed wrinkles on his face draw themselves deeper, and he seems to age another ten years in a heartbeat. "He passed his fear of losing control to you, and I didn't see the signs until it was too late. Has it truly become so bad that you can barely defend yourself against a teenager?"

Machoke seems to be at a loss for words. His mouth moves, but no sounds can be heard.

Julian is struck by the urge to defend Machoke, to say it's not his fault, because normal people can't use aura and Machoke had no way of knowing, but he withholds his words.

"To die without knowing your full potential is a sin," Darkholme's voice rings out, touching something within everyone listening. "I won't let you sin like that, Machoke. I won't." he turns his eyes to Julian and Lulu. "Mister Julian, Miss Lulu, would you oppose Machoke following you on your journey?"

Lulu and Julian share a glance. Several emotions flit across Lulu's aura, like a touch of wariness, a pulse of sympathy, and finally a calm, flat stream of acceptance.

Julian licks his lips, only to find his mouth dry. "No. If he wants to come, then he's free to."

Darkholme smiles and reaches into his pocket, withdrawing a pokeball. He taps the button once to enlarge the ball, then again to open it.

Then he grips each half and twists it.

The metal ball squeaks in protest, then snaps in half, sparking as it's dropped to the floor.

Machoke's jaw drops. He looks down at his own body as a glow overtakes it for a moment, then the shell of energy explodes in a shower of blue sparks. He's free.

"Old man…" Machoke's voice is watery. Steps over the ropes around the ring and drops to the floor, reaching to gingerly lift the lid of his old pokeball.

"You can go with your new friends," Darkholme begins, turning and hobbling to his office. "Or you can go on your own. You just can't stay here."

"But what about the gym? The lessons I've been running?" Machoke asks hollowly. His aura dips to a low Julian has never before felt.

Darkholme laughs and turns around, suddenly filled with mirth. "Machoke, I've taught hundreds of trainers and pokemon the gift of restraint over the last thirty years, but none of them have absorbed my teachings quite like you. The student has surpassed the master here, and it's up to you to go out and grow." He grows somber once more. "Power is nothing without proper control, but never should that control be fueled by fear. With fear, all you'll do is strangle yourself."

Machoke's hand clenches around the bit of broken pokeball, and after a long minute, he nods, eyes trained to the ground. "I… understand."

Julian gulps and finally finds his voice. "Hey, Mister Darkholme…"

"Hmm?" The old man looks at him.

"Are you… going to be okay without Machoke here to help run the place?"

Darkholme grins. "Son, the gym has served her purpose. I've spread my teachings far and wide and taught everything to a fine disciple," he shakes his cane at Machoke, who smiles thinly. "So I can close shop with a clear conscience and open up something new and sustainable, something regular folk are interested in."

"Like?" Julian can't help but ask.

Darkholme's eyes twinkle. "Well, we're already called the Dungeon, so why don't I lean into the dirty old man stereotype and sell some deep, dark fantasies?"

After Julian changes back into his clothes and their valuables are pulled from the gym lockers, Julian, Lulu, and Machoke find themselves outside moments later, leaning against a building and looking up at the stars above Jubilife. The time is now nearly 11 PM, and the streets have thinned out considerably, leaving few people to eavesdrop upon them. Unlike the dense urban cities of his former world, the city of Jubilife slowly begins to lull itself to sleep.

"So, what are you going to do now?" Julian breaks the quiet and turns his head to Machoke.

The Fighting-type is rolling the pokeball lid in his hand, deep in thought. After a second, he seems to realize he was asked a question and looks down at Julian with confusion. "I thought I was going with you?"

"If you wish to," Lulu corrects him, her ruby eyes meeting Machoke's dull crimson. "We've yet to hear an agreement."

Machoke looks up at the sky again, and Julian follows suit.

'Jubilife doesn't even have enough light pollution to dull the stars…' Thoughts of his potentially new pokemon are forgotten for a second. 'I fall in love with this world a little more every day.'

"When you say you're going to be the best…" Machoke murmurs. "What do you really mean?"

"I mean myself, Lulu, and anyone who walks beside us is going to go down history as the best," Julian raises his hand, reaching up and letting his fingers close, as if grasping the brightest star in the sky for himself. "Gym Leaders, Elite Four, Frontier Brains, Champions, all of them eclipsed. To me, being a Pokemon Master means we're the team, the ones who go down in the books as the best and brightest, unsurpassable… a once-in-a-civilization event."

A shiver runs down Machoke's spine. "That's big…" He quietly comments.

"We'll need help getting there, though," Julian lowers his hand. "We need to take every aspect of pokemon battling and perfect it, including keeping a leash on powers that defy understanding." He turns to Machoke. "If you want in, then we'll be happy to have you. It'll be a long, long road, but we'll get there." Julian smirks. "Together."

Machoke looks down at him, and inside the tall fighter, his aura grows and grows, reaching a singing crescendo of raw determination tinged with awe. A smile grows on Machoke's muzzle. "I'm in."

Julian's smirk grows into a full smile and he reaches a hand out for the pokemon to shake. As Machoke reaches for it, a realization hits Julian full force and he quickly pulls his hand away with a gasp. "Wait!"

Machoke blinks, openly bewildered.

"If you're going to join," Julian smiles. "You need a name. Names have power, you know. You don't want to be "Julian's Machoke" in the history books, now do you?"

"Huh…" Machoke scratches his chin. "I've never really thought of a name before. I've never needed one." After a moment, he sighs. "I can't think of any. You pick one, Jules."

Julian hums and thinks. 'Shit, I can't think of a good one either. Any good fighter's name will work and probably play to his advantage. Bruce could invoke either the Hulk, Batman, or Bruce Lee. It would fit his savage fighter tempered by spirit thing. Broly would lean into the berserker side. I could just be lazy and give him the name of some obscure god. Or…'

Julian suddenly remembers where he heard all those odd lines in the gym.

What the hell are you two doing?!

I'm the boss of this gym.

Get out of that Jabroni outfit.

I ripped my fucking pants!

'And Darkholme… in a dungeon… as a dungeon master. No… it's too perfect.' Julian can't help but grin. "I got it!" He turns to Machoke who is watching him with interest. "You've got the nurturing, inspiring spirit of an older brother, so how about Aniki?"

"Aniki?" Machoke tests the name out, holding his chin and slowly nodding. "I kinda like it. What does it mean?"

"It quite literally means "Big Brother" in a language sometimes used in my homeland, and it was the nickname of a beloved man who passed away too soon," Julian's smile falters a little at the memory. "A guy who brought smiles and confidence to thousands, and I have no doubt you can do the same."

Machoke mulls the name over, and after a moment, he smiles. "Let's do this right," he says, holding out his hand. "Nice to meet you, Julian. My name's Aniki. Looking for a new pokemon?"

Julian's smile is so wide it almost hurts. He grasps Mach - Aniki's hand and shakes it.

"Brother, we're glad to have you along for the ride."