Dawn came with the smell of salt air and the cry of Wingull.

  Jason woke to find Sprigatito already alert, sitting at the window of the small guest room and watching the ocean with focused intensity. Ralts was still asleep, curled into a tight ball on the pillow beside him, her psychic senses quiet in rest.

  Sprigatito noticed him stirring and chirped softly—a greeting sound he'd come to recognize over their weeks together.

  "Morning, Sprig." Jason sat up, stretching muscles that had finally gotten a proper night's rest. "Ready for a boat ride?"

  Her tail flicked uncertainly, ears flattening slightly. She'd never been on a boat before. Neither had he, really—at least not that he could remember.

  "It'll be fine. Briney knows what he's doing."

  She made a skeptical sound, somewhere between a chirp and a grumble. Not convinced, clearly, but willing to trust him.

  Breakfast was quick—more of Briney's fish stew, which Jason was starting to suspect was the only thing the old man knew how to cook—and then they were heading down to the dock where the Seagallop waited.

  The boat was larger than Jason had expected from the name. Not huge by any means, but substantial—maybe forty feet long, with a cabin, a small cargo hold, and a deck that could comfortably fit a dozen passengers. The sails were furled against the mast, but Jason could see the rigging was well-maintained, the ropes coiled with the precision of someone who took pride in their craft.

  "She's beautiful, isn't she?" Briney stood at the gangplank, one hand resting lovingly on the wooden railing. "Built her myself, forty years ago. Well, rebuilt her. Found the hull rotting on a beach near Slateport, spent three years making her seaworthy again."

  "You built this?" Jason was genuinely impressed.

  "With these two hands and Peeko's supervision." The Wingull was already perched on the bow, watching the water with the alert gaze of a lifelong sailor. "She's carried me across every ocean in the world. Now she carries trainers to their dreams." He grinned. "Or at least to their next gym badge."

  They boarded, Jason helping Ralts onto his shoulder while Sprigatito leaped up with feline grace. Hana followed, Ren already scrambling up the mast to find a good observation point.

  "The crossing takes about four hours with good wind," Briney explained as he moved around the deck, checking lines and adjusting rigging with practiced ease. "We've got good wind today—Peeko says so, and she's never wrong."

  The Wingull cried out, apparently confirming this assessment.

  "Make yourselves comfortable. There's shade in the cabin if the sun gets too strong, and I've got water and snacks in the hold." Briney moved to the wheel, his casual demeanor shifting into something more focused. "All hands ready? Then let's catch the tide!"

  The Seagallop pulled away from the dock with surprising smoothness, the sails unfurling to catch the morning breeze. Jason stood at the railing, watching Briney's cottage shrink behind them as the boat picked up speed.

  It was... peaceful. The gentle rock of the deck beneath his feet, the snap of canvas in the wind, the endless expanse of blue stretching to the horizon. After days of walking through forests and tunnels, the openness of the ocean was almost overwhelming.

  Ralts sent a wash of impressions through their bond—vastness, emptiness, a strange quiet that unsettled her. The ocean stretched endlessly, and her psychic senses found almost nothing to latch onto.

  "Strange, isn't it?" Jason said, interpreting her unease. "So much water, but it feels empty compared to land."

  She shivered slightly, pressing closer against his neck. Another impression: on land, she could always feel something—emotions, presences, life. Here there was just... silence. The ocean swallowed everything.

  "There are Pokémon down there," he assured her. "Just deep. Far away."

  That didn't seem to comfort her much.

  Jason understood what she meant. The ocean was a different world—one where psychic senses designed for land-based life struggled to find purchase. It was probably unsettling for a Pokémon who relied on emotional awareness as much as Ralts did.

  "We'll be across in a few hours. Then you'll have solid ground again."

  Good. She pressed closer against his neck. I don't like the quiet.

  Sprigatito, meanwhile, had found a sunny spot on the deck and was determinedly pretending the boat wasn't moving. Her claws were dug into the wooden planks, her body tense, but her expression was one of stubborn dignity—she refused to show fear, even if her rigid posture betrayed her discomfort.

  "First time on a boat for her too?" Hana asked, settling into a seat nearby.

  "For all of us, I think."

  "You'll get used to it. Hoenn has a lot of island hopping—if you're going to complete the gym circuit, you'll be on boats fairly often."

  Jason filed that information away. More boat travel ahead. He'd have to help Sprigatito get comfortable with the experience.

  An hour into the crossing, Briney called Jason up to the wheel.

  "Ever steered a boat before?"

  "No."

  "Then it's time you learned!" The old man stepped aside, gesturing for Jason to take his place. "Go on, take the wheel. I'll talk you through it."

  Jason hesitated, then stepped up to the large wooden wheel. It was warm from Briney's hands and the morning sun, solid and surprisingly responsive when he gripped the spokes.

  "That's it. Now, you see that point on the horizon? The dark spot that's just barely visible?"

  Jason squinted. There was something there—a smudge of darker color against the blue. "I see it."

  "That's Dewford Island. Keep the bow pointed at it, and we're golden." Briney leaned against the railing, watching Jason with an approving expression. "The wind's steady today, so you won't have to adjust much. Just hold her steady and let the Seagallop do what she does best."

  It was simpler than Jason expected. The boat seemed to know where it was going, the wheel only requiring small corrections to maintain course. After a few minutes, he found himself relaxing into the rhythm—watch the horizon, feel the wind, make tiny adjustments as needed.

  "You've got a feel for it," Briney said. "Some people fight the boat, try to force it where they want it to go. You're working with her. That's the right instinct."

  "It's peaceful. Once you stop worrying about doing it wrong."

  "Most things are like that." Briney's eyes were on the horizon, but his voice carried the weight of decades of experience. "Sailing. Training Pokémon. Life in general. The more you fight against the current, the harder everything becomes. Learn to read which way things are flowing, and you can get where you want to go with half the effort."

  Philosophy from a boat captain, Jason thought. But it wasn't wrong. His whole journey so far had been about adapting, reading situations, working with what he had rather than wishing for what he didn't.

  "Can I ask you something?" he said.

  "Ask away."

  "You've been doing this for decades—ferrying trainers to Dewford. Have you seen things change? The League, the teams, the way people train?"

  Briney was quiet for a moment, stroking his beard thoughtfully.

  "The League's gotten more organized," he said finally. "More rules, more structure. When I was young, trainers just wandered until they found a gym and challenged it. Now there's ratings and registrations and proper tracking." He shrugged. "Not bad, just different. Safer, probably."

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  "And the teams? Aqua and Magma?"

  "Those..." Briney's expression darkened slightly. "Those are newer. Or rather, they've gotten more serious. Used to be just fringe groups, people with strong opinions about the environment. Now they're organized. Funded. Dangerous." He glanced at Jason. "You've seen them? The Aqua people?"

  "In Rusturf Tunnel. They were watching the passage, looking for something."

  "Mm. They've been more active lately. Peeko doesn't like it—she gets restless when they're around. Says the water feels wrong when Aqua's planning something."

  "The water feels wrong?"

  "Pokémon sense things we can't. Especially Water and Flying types who live on the ocean." Briney's gaze was distant. "Something's building. I don't know what, but I've learned to trust my instincts after sixty years at sea. There's a storm coming—not weather, something else. And Aqua's at the center of it."

  Jason thought about Ralts sensing "wrong" emotions in the tunnel. About the forum posts speculating about legendary Pokémon and ancient conflicts. About everything he knew from the games and anime that he couldn't share with anyone.

  He's right. Something's coming.

  The question was what Jason could—or should—do about it.

  Dewford Island emerged from the horizon gradually, resolving from a dark smudge into distinct features—cliffs, beaches, the shapes of buildings clustered along the shore. It was smaller than Jason had expected, maybe five miles across at its widest point, but the town that gave it its name looked substantial enough.

  "Dewford Town," Briney announced, taking back the wheel for the final approach. "Population about three thousand, swells to five during tournament season. Best surfing in Hoenn, decent fishing, and of course—"

  "The gym," Jason finished.

  "The gym." Briney grinned. "Brawly's a good one. Young, energetic, doesn't take himself too seriously. He'll give you a proper challenge without trying to crush your spirit."

  The Seagallop slowed as they entered the harbor, Briney navigating between other boats with practiced ease. The dock was busy—fishermen unloading their catches, trainers embarking and disembarking from various vessels, locals going about their daily business. The smell of salt and fish was strong, underlaid by something tropical—flowers, maybe, or the vegetation that covered the island's hills.

  "End of the line!" Briney announced as the boat bumped gently against the dock. "Dewford Town, gateway to granite caves, surfing beaches, and Fighting-type excellence!"

  They disembarked, Jason helping Sprigatito down the gangplank (she made it with dignity intact, barely) while Ralts clung to his shoulder with visible relief at being on solid ground again.

  "Thank you," Jason told Briney. "For the passage, the hospitality, everything."

  "Thank you for helping with that Tentacool. Fare's more than paid." The old man's eyes twinkled. "Come find me when you're ready to head to Slateport. I make the run every few days—just check with the harbor master for schedules."

  "I will."

  Hana had already pulled out her Pokégear, checking for messages. Her expression shifted as she read something.

  "Everything okay?" Jason asked.

  "Ranger update. There was an incident near Granite Cave this morning—Team Aqua, apparently. Nothing major, but they're increasing patrols." She looked up at him. "We should check in with the local authorities. Let them know we're here, in case they need trainers for anything."

  "You think they'll need help?"

  "I think it's better to be available and not needed than needed and not available." She tucked the Pokégear away. "Let's find the Pokémon Center first. Get registered, heal any travel wear, then see what's going on."

  Jason nodded, taking one last look at the Seagallop as Briney began preparing for his return journey. The old sailor waved cheerfully, Peeko crying out what might have been a farewell.

  Then Jason turned to face Dewford Town—a new island, a new gym, and apparently new Team Aqua complications.

  One step at a time, he reminded himself. That's how you get anywhere.

  Dewford's Pokémon Center was smaller than Rustboro's but no less welcoming. The building sat near the harbor, its distinctive red roof visible from the docks, and the interior had a casual, beach-town atmosphere that matched the island's vibe.

  "Welcome to Dewford!" The Nurse Joy here had a slightly more relaxed demeanor than her mainland counterparts, though the family resemblance was unmistakable. "Trainers? Let me get you registered."

  They went through the familiar process—trainer cards scanned, Pokémon checked for health status, room assignments issued. Jason noticed the Nurse Joy paying particular attention to Sprigatito, the same curiosity he'd seen everywhere about his unusual partner.

  "Paldean species," she noted. "I'll flag your file so our systems know what to expect. She's in good health—you're taking excellent care of her."

  "Thank you."

  "The gym's a ten-minute walk west along the beach. Brawly usually accepts challengers in the afternoon—he surfs in the mornings." She smiled. "It's an island thing."

  "Any word on the Team Aqua situation?" Hana asked.

  Nurse Joy's smile faded slightly. "There was some activity near Granite Cave this morning. A group of them tried to access the deeper chambers, but the local trainers drove them off. No one was hurt, but the Rangers are taking it seriously." She glanced between them. "If you're planning to explore the cave, be careful. They might come back."

  "We'll keep that in mind."

  They grabbed a late lunch at a beachside café—fresh seafood, because of course Dewford's specialty was seafood—and watched the waves roll in while they ate.

  The beach was beautiful. White sand, crystal-clear water, surfers riding waves in the distance. Pokémon played along the shoreline—Wingull and Pelipper, Marill splashing in the shallows, a Machop helping its trainer set up a beach umbrella. The atmosphere was relaxed, unhurried, a world away from the intensity of mainland cities.

  "I could get used to this," Jason admitted.

  "Don't get too comfortable," Hana warned. "You've got a gym to challenge, remember?"

  "Tomorrow. Today I want to get settled, maybe do some light training." He watched a surfer execute an impressive maneuver, their Pokémon—was that a Sharpedo?—swimming alongside. "When do you have to report in?"

  "This afternoon. The Ranger station wants updates on the Rusturf situation, and I need to check in about the Dewford activity." She paused. "I might be busy for a few days. Ranger business."

  "Will you still be around for the gym battle?"

  "I'll try. But don't wait for me—challenge Brawly when you're ready." She smiled slightly. "You don't need me to hold your hand anymore. You've proven that."

  The words were meant as a compliment, Jason knew. But there was something underneath them—a hint that their partnership might be changing. Hana was a Ranger candidate with responsibilities beyond babysitting a new trainer. Their paths had aligned for a while, but that couldn't last forever.

  Nothing lasts forever, he thought. But that doesn't mean it wasn't valuable.

  "Thank you," he said. "For everything. Showing me the routes, the training advice, being there for the gym battles. I couldn't have gotten this far without you."

  "You could have. It just would have been harder." Hana stood, brushing sand from her pants. "I'm going to check in with the Rangers now. I'll find you at the Center later, let you know what's happening."

  "Be careful."

  "Always am."

  She headed off toward the town proper, Ren perched on her shoulder. Jason watched her go, then turned back to the ocean.

  Sprigatito had crept closer to the water, watching the waves with wary fascination. She didn't like the sea—he could tell that much—but she was too curious to stay away entirely.

  Big water, Ralts observed from his shoulder. Different from the boat. This water moves.

  "It's called waves. The ocean's never really still."

  It's pretty. From here. A pause. I don't want to go in it.

  "You don't have to." Jason stood, stretching. "Come on. Let's find somewhere to train. I want to work on some things before we challenge the gym."

  The afternoon passed in comfortable routine.

  Jason found a quiet spot on a beach further from the main town—less crowded, better for training without an audience. He worked with Sprigatito on her speed, running drills that had her weaving between obstacles, changing direction on command, building the instincts she'd need against Brawly's Fighting-types.

  Ralts practiced her psychic exercises, extending her senses further than before, learning to filter out the "noise" of background emotions so she could focus on specific targets. She was getting better—faster, more precise. The Tentacool experience had given her confidence, shown her that her abilities had value beyond just sensing danger.

  By the time the sun started dipping toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, both Pokémon were tired but satisfied.

  "Good work today," Jason told them. "Tomorrow we start preparing seriously for Brawly. But tonight, we rest."

  Sprigatito made a pointed sound, her gaze flicking toward the direction of the Pokémon Center—and more importantly, food. Her meaning was unmistakable.

  "Food first," he agreed with a smile. "I hear you."

  The Pokémon Center's common room was busier than expected when they returned.

  Trainers clustered in small groups, talking in low, urgent voices. Several looked shaken—one girl was actually crying, being comforted by her friends. A television in the corner was showing what looked like news coverage, though the volume was too low to hear clearly.

  Jason found a seat near the edge of the room, trying to piece together what was happening from the fragments of conversation around him.

  "—tried to take their Pokémon—"

  "—just outside the cave, didn't even see them coming—"

  "—Rangers are searching, but—"

  "—said they were looking for something, some kind of—"

  Then someone sat down heavily in the chair across from him—a young man, maybe early twenties, with tousled dark hair and sun-weathered skin. He wore clothes that suggested long hours on the water, and there was a Pokéball at his belt that looked well-used.

  "Hell of a day," the young man said, rubbing his face tiredly. "You just get in?"

  "Few hours ago. What happened?"

  "Team Aqua." The man's jaw tightened. "They jumped some trainers near Granite Cave. Tried to steal their Pokémon, can you believe it? In broad daylight, like they owned the place." He shook his head. "We chased them off—me and some other locals—but they got away with one trainer's Pokémon before we could stop them."

  Jason felt his stomach drop. "They stole someone's Pokémon?"

  "A Wingull. Some kid who'd just caught it that morning." The man's expression was grim. "Rangers are looking, but those Aqua bastards know the caves better than anyone. Probably long gone by now."

  Stolen Pokémon. Trainers attacked in daylight. This wasn't just "unusual activity"—this was escalation.

  "I'm Marcus, by the way." The man extended a hand. "Marcus Delano. I've got a boat at the harbor, help out with transport sometimes."

  "Jason. Jason Cahill." He shook the offered hand. "You said you chased them off?"

  "Me and my Carvanha. Plus a few other trainers who happened to be around." Marcus's expression shifted slightly—pride mixed with frustration. "We drove them back into the caves, but we couldn't follow. Too dangerous without proper equipment, and the Rangers told us to back off anyway." He looked at Jason with new interest. "You're a trainer? Here for the gym?"

  "Yeah. Got one badge so far."

  "Then you might want to be careful. Aqua's been getting bolder—if they're willing to attack trainers near the gym town, who knows what they'll try next." Marcus stood, stretching. "I need food. You eaten yet?"

  "Not yet."

  "Come on then. I'll tell you what I know about the island while we eat. And about Brawly—I've seen enough of his battles to give you some tips."

  Jason hesitated for only a moment. Marcus seemed genuine—frustrated about the attack, willing to help a stranger. And right now, Jason could use all the local knowledge he could get.

  "Lead the way."