Pokemon: Master of tactics-Chapter 443

"What are Pokémon to you?"

Maverick is sitting opposite Alex.

He didn't answer immediately.

Maverick sat back in the chair, one arm draped over the backrest like he owned the room—or at least refused to let it own him. His boots didn't quite touch the floor. He swung one lazily, eyes half-lidded, studying Alex with open curiosity rather than fear.

He looked exactly like the kind of boy people underestimated—and exactly like the kind who used that.

Maverick was a little shorter than most kids his age, with a wiry build that suggested speed and endurance rather than strength. His clothes were mismatched but intentional: a loose, dark hoodie with the sleeves pushed up, scuffed trousers reinforced at the knees, and boots that had clearly been repaired more than once.

His hair was a mess of dark strands that never quite stayed in place, as if he'd given up trying to tame it and decided it wasn't worth the effort. It framed a narrow face with sharp cheekbones and a perpetually unreadable expression—half bored, half alert. The kind of face that didn't give away thoughts unless he wanted it to.

His eyes were what stood out.

Steel-gray, steady, and observant. They didn't dart around the room like a nervous child's would. They lingered. Measured distance. Tracked posture, exits, and reactions without making a show of it. When he looked at Alex, it wasn't with awe or fear, but with a cool, analytical curiosity—like he was trying to figure out what kind of danger sat in front of him.

He sat casually, almost slouched, yet his balance never wavered. If he needed to move, he could do it instantly.

Alex recognized the type immediately.

Not a brawler or a dreamer.

Maverick was a survivor.

"What are Pokémon to you?" Alex repeated calmly.

Maverick scratched his cheek, then shrugged. "Depends," he said. "On the Pokémon."

Alex didn't interrupt.

"Some are weapons," Maverick continued. "Anyone who says otherwise is lying or dead. Some are partners—if you treat them right and don't get sentimental about it." His mouth twisted slightly. "And some are just… problems waiting to happen."

Gardevoir, hidden behind the board, felt nothing—not emotion. No hesitation. No performance.

Alex's gaze sharpened.

"And which category do you want them to fall into?" he asked.

Maverick's leg stopped swinging.

"The one that keeps me alive the longest," he said. Then, after a pause, added, "And makes me stronger in the process."

Alex leaned forward just enough to matter.

"Interesting answer," he said. "Most children start with ideals. You started with outcomes."

Maverick grinned. Not wide. Not friendly. His smile looks terrifying for a kid of his age.

"I don't have the luxury of ideals yet." 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺

Silence stretched between them—

Alex finally nodded once.

"That's acceptable," he said. "But understand this: Pokémon that are treated only as tools break— you or the Pokemon. Sometimes at the worst possible moment."

Maverick met his eyes without flinching. "Then I'll learn to stop treating them like tools."

That earned him something rare.

Alex smiled—thin, deliberate.

"Good," he said. "That means you're teachable."

Behind the board, Gardevoir's voice brushed Alex's mind. Father. He's cautious… but not afraid. He probably believes every word he said.

Alex's interest deepened.Alex finished his "interview" with Maverick and quickly sent him away. He pressed the button on the desk again, his voice calm and even as it echoed through the orphanage.

"Aurora. Please come to the office."

He released the button and leaned back slightly, fingers interlaced, gaze drifting for a moment toward the whiteboard where Gardevoir remained hidden. Maverick's presence still lingered faintly in the room—like the echo of a blade being drawn and sheathed again. Unfinished diamond indeed.

About two minutes later, there was a soft knock.

"Come in," Alex said.

The door opened, and Aurora stepped inside.

She was younger than the others—ten, maybe just turned eleven—but she carried herself with an odd composure for her age. Slender, almost delicate at first glance, with pale skin that hadn't seen much sun and long, silver-blonde hair braided loosely down one shoulder. The braid wasn't neat. It had been redone several times, strands slipping free, as if she'd started braiding it out of habit rather than care.

Her clothes were simple and a little oversized, clearly handed down: a soft sweater, worn at the cuffs, and a long skirt that reached past her knees. No attempt to look practical like Camila. No calculated disorder like Maverick.

Just… quiet.

Her eyes lifted to meet Alex's—and he felt it immediately.

Aurora's gaze was a clear, light blue, almost translucent. Not sharp. Not guarded.

Almost reflective.

She looked at him the way one might look at a deep lake: calm on the surface, but impossible to tell how far down it went. There was no fear in her expression. No excitement either. Just a gentle attentiveness, as if she were already listening to something no one else could hear.

She closed the door carefully behind her and stood where she was, hands folded in front of her.

"You called for me," she said.

Her voice was soft, but steady. Not timid. Simply unforced.

Alex studied her in silence for a second longer than necessary.

No visible scars. No signs of hunger. No tension in her posture.

Yet something about her presence felt… displaced. As if she didn't fully belong in the room—or anywhere else.

Gardevoir's voice brushed his mind, quiet and precise.

Father. Her emotions are… muted. Not suppressed but naturally faint.

Interesting.

Alex gestured to the chair opposite him. "Sit, Aurora."

She did so without hesitation, smoothing her skirt before sitting, back straight but relaxed. Her feet didn't quite reach the floor.

Alex leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the desk.

"Do you know why you're here?"

Aurora thought for a moment before answering. Not long. Just enough.

"You think I might be useful," she said.

No pride. No expectation. Just a statement.

Alex smiled faintly.

That answer alone told him more than most children managed in an hour.

"Then let's see if you're right," he said calmly.

"What are Pokémon to you?"

Aurora didn't answer right away.

Her gaze drifted past Alex, not to the walls or the window, but somewhere farther—somewhere inward. She tilted her head slightly, as if weighing not the best answer, but the truest one.

"Pokémon…" she said slowly, testing the word.

Her fingers tightened together for just a moment before relaxing again.

"They're not tools," she continued. "But they're not people either."

Alex remained silent.

"They're… companions that accept danger as part of life," Aurora said. "More honestly than humans do."

She lifted her eyes to him then, and for the first time, there was something vulnerable in them.

"When a Pokémon follows someone, it knows it might get hurt. It knows it might die. But it still chooses to walk forward."

Her voice didn't shake—but it softened.

"I think Pokémon are beings that don't lie to themselves about what the world is. They fight because that's how they live. Humans fight while pretending they don't."

There was no accusation in her tone. Just observation.

Alex felt his interest sharpen.

"That's a dangerous way to think," he said evenly. "If Pokémon accept danger, it becomes easy to justify throwing them into it."

Aurora nodded. "That's why it matters who they follow."

She hesitated, then added quietly, "A Pokémon that trusts the wrong person gets broken. Not because it's weak. But because trust makes it fragile."

For a few seconds, the room was completely still.

Gardevoir's voice brushed Alex's mind again. Father… her emotions are calm. But there is something there what i cannot describe. She's speaking from experience—or very close understanding.

Alex leaned back slightly. "You didn't talk about strength," he noted. "Or victory."

Aurora gave a small, almost apologetic smile. "Strength is easy to admire, But I think Pokémon care more about whether their trainer understands the cost of winning."

Alex studied her—really studied her this time.

"Thank you," Alex said at last. "You can wait outside."

Aurora stood, bowed her head politely, and left without another word.

When the door closed, Alex remained seated, eyes unfocused.

"…I like how she thinks." he murmured.

Gardevoir smiled, her presence gentle and amused as it brushed against his mind. I wonder what part of her answer made you like her so much? hmm... The secrets of this world are hard to uncover.

Alex's lips curved into a small, genuine smile—the kind he reserved almost exclusively for his Pokémon.

"Who knows," he replied lightly. "Maybe she's a legendary Pokémon in human form. One of those with an absurdly annoying passive ability."

Gardevoir laughed quietly in his mind, warm and bright.

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