A Sigh of Relief, and Then... Despair

Mountains, rivers, towns, and plains swept past the horizon, blurring into one mesmerizing panorama.

"Calm down, or we're going to fall out of the sky," Johan said, gripping Tinkatuff's arm tightly.

"Chu~ Chu~~"

Tinkatuff had finally settled down, its earlier frenzy subsiding.

Despite being on a flying taxi, its competitive spirit was unshaken.

It had discovered something infuriating: this Corviknight, carrying the flying taxi, was fast. Too fast. The stones Tinkatuff had flung had missed completely.

Defeated, it resigned itself to sitting still, hammer in hand.

"Chu..."

It muttered under its breath, gripping its hammer tighter.

It needed to become stronger.

Meanwhile, the Corviknight hauling the taxi seemed to heave a sigh of relief.

Close call.

Now it understood why its cousins in the Paldea region often looked so miserable.

Tinkatuff's small, adorable, pink appearance was deceptive; the rocks hurled by its hammer were no joke.

Corviknight shuddered.

If one of those stones had hit its wing, it might've shed feathers. And if it had struck its head... well, the thought was too grim to entertain.

The driver, however, remained impressively calm, betraying no hint of alarm.

He seemed to be well-versed in the "complicated relationship" between Tinkatuff and Pokémon like Corviknight.

In their earlier stages, Tinkatink often became targets for metal-loving Pokémon like Corviknight and Bisharp, drawn to their crude, metallic hammers.

But as Tinkatink evolved into Tinkatuff and sought stronger materials to craft larger hammers, they'd turn the tables—attacking Bisharp clans to scavenge metal.

By the time they became Tinkaton, they often took aim at flying Corviknight for the same reason.

This rivalry was so infamous that in Paldea, the Flying Taxi service exclusively used smaller, faster Pokémon like Squawkabilly instead of Corviknight.

It wasn't hard to imagine why.

Luckily, Johan's Tinkatuff was strong—too strong.

If this Corviknight hadn't been skilled, it might have ended up grounded and plucked bald.

After what felt like an eternity, the driver called out, "We're almost there!"

Ahead, a sprawling island came into view.

The Isle of Armor.

The island's size was impressive, featuring forests, wetlands, dunes, caves, and a variety of wild Pokémon habitats.

Without adequate strength, wandering freely here could be perilous.

"Ka-kah!"

Gengar, perched against the window, pointed to the island.

Two towering structures loomed in the distance, one to the east and the other to the west.

Approaching from the west, the western tower was more visible. From afar, the sound of rushing water could be faintly heard.

The eastern tower, shrouded in black mist, was less distinct.

The driver chuckled, noticing Johan's curiosity.

"Those are the Towers of Two Fists. The western one is the Tower of Waters, and the eastern one is the Tower of Darkness. Each teaches a different martial art."

"The Tower of Waters practices the 'Rapid-Strike Style,' focusing on seamless, continuous attacks like flowing water or crashing waves, with each strike more powerful than the last."

"The Tower of Darkness emphasizes the 'Single-Strike Style,' favoring devastating, one-hit blows that end battles in an instant."

"Chu..."

Tinkatuff's eyes gleamed as it pointed toward the Tower of Darkness.

Johan gave a small nod of understanding.

The renowned Elite Four member Bruno had once suggested that Tinkatuff might benefit from studying the Single-Strike Style.

Johan, too, was familiar with the towers.

Each corresponded to a specific evolution for Kubfu—either the Rapid-Strike Urshifu from the Tower of Waters or the Single-Strike Urshifu from the Tower of Darkness.

Urshifu was one of Mustard's signature Pokémon.

Of course, Leon, Mustard's protégé, hadn't inherited his master's martial expertise.

Rumor had it Leon once got lost trying to find the towers with his Kubfu, derailing the entire training process.

Classic Leon.

"Ka-kah~"

Gengar suddenly produced its phone, swiping to a picture of a younger Mustard.

In the photo, Mustard stood proudly with two imposing Urshifu—one on either side.

"Oowu?"

The other Pokémon crowded around, expressions serious.

"Chu."

Tinkatuff muttered, seemingly impressed by the strength the Urshifu radiated.

"They're just bear paws," Johan joked.

The Pokémon turned to him with expressions that could only be described as judgmental.

Really? You're making food jokes right now?

"We're landing soon!" the driver announced as Corviknight descended toward a dojo-like building below.

The Isle of Armor—Mustard's Dojo.

Under a clear blue sky, Corviknight flapped its wings, landing smoothly on the sandy shore.

Ahead lay dense forests and rolling hills, while behind them stretched the open ocean, where a Drednaw emerged from the water with a menacing growl.

After the driver passed along his contact number, he quickly departed, clearly eager to leave the island as soon as possible.

"Chu."

Tinkatuff watched the retreating Corviknight with mild annoyance, grumbling about missed opportunities to "test" its hammer.

Johan surveyed the surroundings thoughtfully.

Not bad.

An entire island as a personal training ground.

No wonder Mustard, with his undefeated 18-year championship streak, was so accomplished.

Maybe one day, Johan mused, he'd buy his own island. A peaceful place to raise his Pokémon, complete with a cozy little house—and maybe even a partner to share it with.

The creak of the dojo door interrupted his daydream.

A woman in a bright green sweater, her makeup flawless, emerged, broom in hand.

"Are you Johan-sensei?" she asked with a warm smile.

Honey.

Mustard's younger wife and the dojo's co-founder, Honey was as sharp as she was charming. She managed the dojo alongside Mustard, balancing practicality with a touch of flair.

"Perfect weather for laundry, isn't it?" she remarked, shielding her eyes from the sun.

Johan returned the smile.

"You must be Honey. I see Mustard is a lucky man."

"Flatterer." Honey giggled, visibly pleased. "You're much smoother than Leon."

"Mustard's inside—probably gaming again. I'll take you to him."

"Thanks for the trouble."

As they entered the dojo, passing through a serene garden, they reached a central hall.

Inside, an older man with flowing white brows and a lively green jacket sat on a sofa, engrossed in a video game.

"Sorry about this," Honey said apologetically. "Mustard loses himself in games sometimes. But don't worry—it looks like he's about to lose anyway."

Sure enough, the words "GAME OVER" flashed across the screen moments later.

"Welcome, welcome!" Mustard said cheerfully, finally noticing his guests.

"Little Johan?"

Johan froze.

Little Johan?

He fought the urge to wince at the nickname.

"Yes, Mustard-sensei."

"Haha! You made good time."

Not really. His principal had practically launched him onto a plane overnight.

"Come on—I'll show you some Pokémon," Mustard said suddenly, clapping his hands.

"Pokémon?" Johan repeated, confused.

This wasn't part of the plan.

"Yup. I heard you only have four so far, right? You might find one of mine to your liking."

"Wait, I'm just here to train my Tinkatuff!"

But Mustard didn't seem to hear, leading Johan toward the back of the dojo.

"You'll need to pass a test to earn one, though," Mustard added with a grin.

A test?

Johan relaxed slightly.

Good. If he failed, he wouldn't have to take one home.

When they reached an open courtyard, Mustard turned, releasing two Pokémon onto the field.

A tiny Rookidee and a Rockruff appeared, both looking timid and inexperienced.

Johan's jaw dropped.

Noticing the eagerness in his Pokémon, he muttered in disbelief:

"Wait, you're holding back for me?"

What kind of Pokémon were so valuable that Mustard—the Mustard—would go this far to ensure he could catch one?

Suddenly, Johan's hopes of failure didn't seem so secure.

A breeze rustled through the grass, revealing a tuft of gray fur nestled among the foliage.

(－ω－) zzZ

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Powerstones?

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