Reggie's POV
At first, I barely noticed it. Paul had always been intense—driven, focused, serious about training. But now… something was different.
Not in a bad way.
He still trained with the same intensity, still set high expectations, still had that sharp, calculating mind. But now, there was deliberation behind it. A sense of presence.
And when he wasn't training, he actually took time to talk to his Pokémon. He brought them to watch League matches with him. He encouraged them to interact, to play. Elekid and Larvitar hesitated at first, but Chimchar was quick to take the lead.
It wasn't just that, though.
When Paul asked me to help train Elekid, I was caught off guard. Not because it was strange for him to leave a Pokémon with me—he'd done that plenty of times before. But this time, he actually asked for my help. Directly. That was new.
I didn't hesitate. I followed his instructions. Alakazam would use hypnosis on Elekid. Then I instructed Paul's Scizor to attack Elekid with Bullet Punch while it's drowsy. Steel-type moves wouldn't do much damage to an Electric-type like Elekid, but Bullet Punch was fast. I had Scizor hold back on power but not speed, forcing Elekid to react on instinct, keeping him on edge. It was a solid drill, and Elekid held his own for a while.
When I saw him start to tire, I called for a break.
Then, for some reason, an intrusive thought crept in. I wanted to see how Paul was training Chimchar.
I wasn't sure why. Maybe it was just curiosity. Maybe it was something else. Either way, I asked my Staraptor to fly me over to the Veilstone Gym.
Once there, I stood at the edge of the room, out of Paul's sight, and watched.
He was guiding Chimchar through a series of strikes against a punching bag, adjusting the little Fire-type's stance with careful, deliberate movements. Every so often, he'd offer a pointer, stepping in to correct Chimchar's posture or show him how to put his weight into a punch.
He was patient.
When was the last time I saw Paul this patient?
Not long ago, he would've expected Chimchar to figure it out on his own. He wouldn't have been cruel—just detached. But now? He was involved. He was teaching.
I watched as Chimchar overextended on a punch, nearly losing his balance. Paul immediately stepped in, stopping him with a firm but steadying hand. A quick correction, a short explanation, and then he had Chimchar try again.
Where is this coming from?
I folded my arms, exhaling. Maybe it was the Silver Conference. Maybe it was something else. Whatever it was, something had shifted.
And honestly?
I wasn't upset about it.
If Paul kept this up, I knew he'd become an even stronger trainer than me. Stronger than Brandon, too.
__________
Torterra's POV
Paul has changed.
I see it in the way he moves.
The way he trains with the others.
The way he speaks.
The way he stays.
It isn't weakness. I would never think that. It is something else—something other than strength alone.
I remember the way he used to be. When I was a Turtwig, Paul trained me with discipline and purpose. He pushed me to my limits. I grew under his command, shaped into something sturdy, unbreakable. I took pride in that. My purpose was to stand, to endure, to be the wall his team could always rely on.
That was his strength—calculating, sharp, unyielding.
I remember our battle at the Mauville Gym. It was a four-on-four match, and it had come down to the final stretch. Paul still had me, his last Pokémon. Our opponent, Wattson, had two left—a Magneton and a Manectric.
I was still a Turtwig back then. The battle was stacked against us, but Paul didn't hesitate. He made his calls, and I followed.
Magneton was the first I had to face. It was fast and unpredictable, firing off Supersonic waves and trying to confuse me. Paul saw an opening—he commanded me to use Bite, to latch onto it, and despite Magneton's resistance, I held firm. The moment its movements slowed, I felt the surge within me—my body growing, my legs lengthening, my shell hardening.
I evolved. Grotle.
With my new strength, I crushed Magneton with a single well-placed Razor Leaf.
That left just me against Manectric.
It was stronger than me. Faster. But Paul didn't waver. His voice was steady, commanding. "Endure it, then counterattack." I listened. Every move I made was in response to his strategy.
A Thunder Fang struck deep. But I shook it off. A Quick Attack slammed into my side. Yet, I stood my ground.
Paul gave the order—Take down. I surged forward, tackled into Manectric, and with one last Energy Ball, I ended it.
We won.
I was exhausted. Sore. But I was proud. Because I had done exactly what Paul needed me to do.
That was the trainer he was. And I understood it.
But now… I see something different.
I watch him with Chimchar. With Elekid. With Larvitar.
He still trains with the same intensity, but now, when training ends, he does not just walk away. He stays. He watches. He speaks. He doesn't just order them to push through exhaustion—he guides them through it.
A few days ago, Larvitar looked disappointed after one of her training sessions. I expected Paul to ignore it, to let her handle her emotions on her own. That was what he used to do.
Instead, he knelt beside her. He spoke softly. He explained why her ability would serve her better in the long run.
That was new.
I do not know what caused this shift. I do not ask.
But I do not fear it.
I am curious.
This is not weakness. I know that. Paul is still strong. But there is something more now—something I have never seen before.
A connection.
If Paul had been like this before… would things have been different?
Would I have been more than just his Pokémon?
But that is not my purpose. That is not who I was trained to be.
And so, like always, I stand.
__________
Elekid's POV
Paul never used to talk to us much.
Back when I first met him, he trained us hard. Gave orders. Pushed us. Made us stronger. That was good. That was enough.
I liked that. No, I loved that.
I still remember the first time I impressed him. It was during one of our training sessions—Paul had me use Thunder Punch over and over against a boulder, demanding more power, more force. My arms ached, my sparks flickered, but I kept going. I didn't stop until I shattered that rock into pieces.
Paul nodded. Just a simple nod. No praise, no words of encouragement. But that was all I needed.
That was proof I was strong. That was proof I was doing something right.
And that feeling—it was the best thing in the world.
But now?
Now, he stays after training. He actually sits with us. He talks to us. He watches our progress—not just to evaluate it, but to acknowledge it.
I don't know how to feel.
I tell myself this isn't necessary. Power is all that matters. Strength is all that matters. That's what Paul taught me. That's what I believed.
But when I think about how he stays now, how he actually looks at us instead of just commanding us—I feel something else.
I try to ignore it. I try to push it aside. I don't need this. I don't need… whatever this is.
But then he does things that make it impossible to ignore.
"Good work today," he says. Or, "Let's work on this next time."
He used to never say things like that.
And when I nearly fell asleep during one of our focus exercises, he—
He actually chuckled.
Paul. Chuckling.
I almost didn't believe it. I almost didn't recognize him.
The old Paul would've scolded me. Would've told me to keep my focus, to stop slacking off. But now, instead of being frustrated with me, he just… laughed.
And for some reason, that memory sticks with me. Lingers.
I don't know what it is.
I don't know if I like it.
No… I do like it. And that scares me.
Because I think I might love this feeling more than getting stronger.
Paul, what are we? Are you just my trainer?
Or are we something else?
I remember the talk we had a few days ago.
For the first time ever, Paul showed weakness to me. He admitted his fear of another trainer.
I still hear his voice in my head, low and serious. Not cold. Not detached. Just… honest.
"There's a strong trainer out there. Stronger than me. And his Pokémon… he puts them to sleep, then picks them off one by one. I can't let that happen. I won't."
I remember staring up at him, stunned. He didn't sound angry. He didn't sound frustrated. Just… uncertain.
Paul? Uncertain?
It didn't make sense.
Paul never used to talk to us like that. He never confided in us. He never needed us for anything except for battle.
And yet, that day—he spoke to me like I mattered.
Not just as his Pokémon. As his partner.
I try to tell myself I should be disappointed. This isn't the Paul I know.
Paul never showed weakness before.
He was always strong. Always certain.
That's what made him different. That's what made him strong. That's what made him Paul.
So why don't I feel disappointed?
Why does that thought—the idea of him being weak—make me angry instead?
I grit my teeth, sparks crackling at my fingertips.
I never want Paul to feel that fear again.
He's my trainer. He's supposed to be the one who leads us, the one who never falters. But if he's afraid, then fine. I'll carry that burden for him.
Whoever that trainer is—I will defeat them.
Even if I have to push myself harder than ever before.
Even if I have to fight until I can't stand.
Even if I have to become stronger than I ever thought possible.
I won't let Paul be afraid.
__________
Larvitar's POV
I like Paul.
I liked him before, but now? I think I like him even more.
Before, he was distant. Not mean. Just… not there the way he is now. He'd train me, push me, give orders—and I'd listen, because that's what I was supposed to do.
But after training, he'd move on. That was just how things were.
I used to wonder if I was doing something wrong. If I wasn't strong enough to hold his attention. He didn't get angry when I lost, but he didn't comfort me either. I told myself I didn't need that. I wanted to be strong, like him.
But now?
Now, he actually stays.
He watches me. He talks to me. He listens.
I remember the first time I met Paul.
Back then, I didn't worry about much. I liked to sleep. I liked to bask in the sun. If I was warm and full, I would be happy. Even during training, I never saw the point in getting worked up over things. If I was going to get stronger, it would happen.
Paul was different. He was always focused, always thinking about the next step. I could tell he cared about strength, about results. He never wasted time.
I thought maybe he wouldn't like me.
I wasn't like Elekid, who loved every second of battle, or Murkrow and Sneasel, who always seemed eager to prove themselves. I was just… me. And I was fine with that.
Paul trained me just like the others. Gave orders, expected me to follow. He never yelled, never got angry, never said anything bad. But he never praised me either. I didn't mind.
At least, I thought I didn't.
The day we tested my ability, I got excited. Sand Veil would have made me harder to hit, right? That would be useful.
But when we tested it, I didn't have Sand Veil. I had Guts.
For a second, I felt disappointed. Would Paul be disappointed too?
But instead of brushing it off, he actually knelt down beside me.
"That's good," he said. "That means when you evolve, you'll get Sand Stream. That's the ability I wanted for you."
I blinked. He wanted something for me?
Paul didn't just accept my ability—he was actually happy about it. He had a plan.
He was thinking about my future.
I wasn't just some Pokémon he caught. I was part of his team.
After training, when I flopped onto my favorite sunbathing rock, I expected him to recall me right away. But he didn't.
He let me rest.
That was new.
I stretched out under the warmth, letting the heat soak into my scales. Paul was letting me rest.
And then—he sat down next to me.
He didn't say anything. He didn't give an order.
He just… sat there.
I peeked at him through one eye. He had his arms crossed, staring off at the horizon. Like he was thinking.
Like he was waiting.
I let out a small, content sigh and closed my eyes again. Maybe he really does care.
And maybe—just maybe—that makes me even stronger than before.
__________
Chimchar's POV
I made the right choice.
I was nervous at first. I didn't really know what trainers were like—only what the other Pokémon in the forest said. Some said trainers were strong, that they could make any Pokémon powerful. Others said trainers only cared about winning and would abandon weaklings without a second thought.
I didn't know what to believe. But now, after spending time with Paul, I know I was right to follow him.
He's strong. He's smart. And he actually cares about training with me.
At the gym, he showed me how to punch properly. He didn't just tell me—he showed me. He moved my arms into place, fixed my stance, and stayed by my side until I got it right. Trainers aren't supposed to do that, are they? Aren't Pokémon just supposed to figure it out on their own?
I don't understand him completely yet. But I want to.
I lived in the forest for most of my life. It wasn't easy.
The other Pokémon took advantage of me. They called me naive. It's not my fault. I can't help it—that's just the way I am.
I remember that fateful day. The dayI met Paul. The previous day, the Hoothoot tricked me into stealing from a group of Zangoose. They said it would be fun. That it would prove I was fast and clever. I wanted to impress them. I wanted to belong.
So I did it. I snuck in, swiped a few berries, and ran.
The Zangoose were not impressed.
They chased me through the trees, claws flashing in the moonlight. My heart pounded as I swung from branch to branch, my tail flame flickering wildly behind me. I thought I was done for.
Then... it gets hazy.
I remember my legs burning with exhaustion. I remember the snarl of the Zangoose, the way their eyes glowed in the dark. I remember—heat. A rush of fire exploding from inside me, wilder and stronger than anything I'd ever felt before.
And then—flames.
They burned into the side of a cliff, licking up the rock in swirling patterns. The Zangoose were gone after that. Or maybe I ran. Maybe they ran. I don't know.
I just remember standing there, staring at the scorched marks on the stone, panting, dazed. My heart was still racing, but everything else felt... empty.
Then I saw him.
A trainer.
Paul.
He wasn't afraid. He wasn't angry. He just stood there, watching me, like he was waiting for something.
He said something—I don't remember what. Maybe he asked if I wanted to get stronger. Maybe he just held out the Poké Ball and let me decide.
I don't remember the words.
I just remember choosing.
I still don't know why I stayed in that Poké Ball. Maybe it was because I was tired of running. Maybe it was because I wanted to be strong, like the stories said trainers could make Pokémon. Or maybe—just maybe—it was because, for the first time, someone looked at me like I wasn't just some foolish little Chimchar.
Paul trains me like he believes in me.
I want to prove him right.
I want to get stronger.
For him. For my team.
For myself.
I can't wait to see what the future holds.