Morning arrived without ceremony.
No alarms. No announcements. Just a thin line of light slipping through the Pokémon Center window, resting briefly on Shunya's closed eyes before moving on.
He woke slowly.
Not startled. Not excited.
Aware.
His body felt different—not stronger, not lighter, but settled, as if something inside him had finally found its place. The exhaustion from the storm the previous day was gone, replaced by a quiet clarity.
Pikachu was already awake.
It sat near the window, back straight, tail resting against the floor. Tiny sparks drifted around its cheeks—not wild, not playful. Controlled. Almost rhythmic.
Shunya didn't speak.
He sat up and watched.
Minutes passed.
Pikachu breathed in.
Held.
Then exhaled.
The sparks dimmed, then returned—steady, measured.
Only then did Shunya understand.
"…You're practicing," he whispered.
Pikachu glanced back, eyes calm.
"Pika."
Not proudly.
Not eagerly.
Just acknowledgment.
Shunya swung his legs off the bed and sat cross-legged on the floor. The tiles were cool beneath him. He rested his hands on his knees and closed his eyes.
He didn't know how to train.
So he didn't force it.
He listened.
To his breathing.
To Pikachu's presence.
To the faint hum of the world beyond the walls.
At first, his thoughts wandered—routes, trainers, storms, words spoken by strangers who seemed to know more than they should.
Then, slowly, they quieted.
Something subtle changed.
Shunya couldn't see it, but he felt it—like standing ankle-deep in water that had always been there, unnoticed until now. A faint connection stretched between him and Pikachu, thin as a thread, yet unbroken.
Pikachu shifted slightly.
The thread tightened.
Electricity stirred—not outward, not destructive, but inward. It moved along the connection, brushing against Shunya's awareness like a question.
He didn't resist.
He didn't grab it either.
He let it pass.
A warmth spread through his chest.
Not power.
Understanding.
A soft chime echoed—so faint it might've been imagined.
> Sync Depth: First Layer Established
No explanation followed.
None was needed.
Shunya opened his eyes.
Pikachu was watching him closely now.
"…Did we just do something?" Shunya asked.
Pikachu tilted its head, then nodded once.
Shunya let out a quiet breath. "Huh."
They didn't speak of it again.
---
Later, outside the town, Shunya returned to the clearing from before—the one where sunlight pooled gently between the trees. He didn't come to battle. He didn't come to search.
He came to stand.
Pikachu moved on its own this time, positioning itself opposite him. They faced each other, not as trainer and Pokémon—but as companions walking the same path.
Shunya took a step.
Pikachu moved.
Not after.
Not before.
With him.
The timing wasn't perfect.
But it was no longer accidental.
A wild Pokémon watched from the edge of the clearing, eyes sharp. It did not approach. It did not flee.
It observed.
Then left.
Shunya noticed.
"So it's like that," he murmured. "The world watches first."
Pikachu flicked its tail once in agreement.
By the time the sun climbed higher, Shunya felt… complete. Not finished—far from it. But layered. Like the first page of a long scripture had finally been written.
When he returned to town, Rowan noticed immediately.
"You didn't fight," the ranger said.
"No," Shunya replied.
Rowan nodded. "Good."
That was all.
---
That night, when Shunya logged out, he didn't collapse into bed.
He lay awake for a long time.
Not restless.
Thinking.
He understood now—just a little.
Power wasn't something you chased.
It was something that accumulated when your steps aligned with the world's rhythm.
And somewhere far beyond towns and routes, beyond systems and records, an ancient measure shifted ever so slightly.
Not enough to alarm anyone.
But enough to be remembered.
The first layer had formed.
And the path ahead had acknowledged his feet.