Ravina discovered that becoming a trainer involved considerably less adventure than advertised. It seemed to involve forms. Lots of forms.

The League required proof of identity, a medical declaration, emergency contacts, a signed trainer conduct agreement, Pokémon welfare certification, a preliminary registration for League-sanctioned battles, Cinder’s transfer documents and Professor Oak’s Pokédex research authorization.

And because Ravina intended to attempt the Gym Challenge, a separate League challenge registration.

Professor Elm suggested she could probably leave after a day or two. Nostus disagreed, strongly.

“Her partner transfer says ‘Cindiquil.’”

Elm stared. “…Does it?”

“You misspelled Cyndaquil.”

Professor Elm looked genuinely wounded. “I study Cyndaquil.”

“I know,That makes this significantly more embarrassing.”

“Yes.” Daphne leaned over the form. “You also put Ravina’s date of birth in the Pokémon identification field.”

Elm looked. “…Ah.”

Nostus slid the document back across the desk. “Again.”

Ravina sat nearby with Cinder. “This is never going to end.” Cinder chirped. “I’m going to become Champion before Mum finishes registering me.”

Nostus looked up. “You said you weren’t becoming Champion.”

“I’m making a point.”

“Make it on Form J-14.”

Ravina groaned.

 

The delay became a week. At first Ravina complained. Then she discovered she needed it.

Caring for one Cyndaquil for two days had given her the dangerous impression that Pokémon care was intuitive. Feed him, give him water, let him sleep, don’t set anything important on fire. Simple.

Then Nostus started teaching her what travelling with an actual team would eventually involve. Different species needed different diets, some required mineral supplements, others needed particular temperatures, feathers had to be checked for parasites, hooves cracked, claws overgrew, teeth broke, fur hid injuries.

Poisoning did not conveniently disappear after walking around for a while, Burns required treatment even when caused during sanctioned battles, Exhaustion could be dangerous long before a Pokémon simply collapsed. And a trainer had to recognize all of it.

“Look.” Nostus crouched beside Cinder in the backyard directing Ravina to follow her gaze.

“What?”

“His breathing.”

Cinder stood after several rounds of movement drills, his mouth was slightly open, sides rising faster than usual.

“He’s tired.” Ravina concluded. 

“How tired?”

Ravina hesitated as Nostus waited. Then Ravina noticed how Cinder shifted his weight. “He’s favoring his back leg.”

“Good.”

Ravina looked offended. “Good?”

“That you noticed.” Nostus stood. “Training ends.”

Ravina looked toward Cinder. He clearly wanted to continue. “No.”

Cinder protested so Ravina crouched down. “You’re tired.”

Another chirp. “I know you can keep going.” She comforted as she scritched his cheek. “That doesn’t mean you should.”

Cinder stared at her, then sighed dramatically and leaned against her knee.

Nostus smiled and Ravina noticed. “That was a test?”

“Partly.”

“You deliberately pushed him.”

“I let him push himself.” Nostus replied as she folded her arms. “I wanted to see whether you’d notice.”

Ravina looked down at Cinder. “And if I didn’t?”

“I would’ve stopped you.” She paused. “But on the road, I won’t always be there.”

That lesson stayed with Ravina more than most.

 

Training itself became part of their routine. Every morning after breakfast, Ravina and Cinder walked into the woodland beyond New Bark.

At first they practiced the basics, stopping on command, changing direction, responding through distractions, using Smokescreen without completely blinding Ravina as well.

That one took several attempts.

On the third morning, Ravina emerged from a black cloud coughing violently. “Cinder!”

A guilty Cyndaquil appeared from the smoke. “The point is to blind the opponent!”

A tiny chirp. “I am not the opponent!”

Another chirp and Ravina stared. “…You did that on purpose.”

Cinder ran. “You little..!” She called as she chased him laughing through the clearing.

Over time their signals became smaller, Ravina no longer needed to explain everything, a hand motion could tell Cinder which side to circle, a whistle meant return, two fingers toward the ground meant wait.

Sometimes Cinder reacted before she finished speaking, sometimes Ravina knew what he was about to do from how his stance shifted. It wasn’t perfect, not remotely, but something was forming.

A shared language.