Pallet Town – Late Evening
The sun had dipped behind the trees, painting the sky with deep purples and bleeding oranges. Most kids were home. Homework, dinner, rest.
Not Aiden.
Aiden stood alone in the clearing near the outskirts of town, the same place where his parents used to take him for picnics.
Now, it was his training ground.
The grass rustled. Wind was gentle. But in Aiden's mind, storms brewed.
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Aura Training – Phase 1: Feeling the World
He sat cross-legged on a flat rock, eyes closed.
"Breathe in… Feel the life around you. Every tree, every Caterpie, every heartbeat."
Aura wasn't just about combat. At its core, it was empathy. Awareness. Connection.
Aiden stretched his senses, like tendrils of thought brushing against the world.
And he felt it.
A group of Rattata sleeping in a den.
A girl from town chasing her Meowth.
Even the flicker of sorrow in a distant Weedle that had just lost a sibling to a Pidgeotto.
He flinched.
"It never gets easier. Feeling the pain…"
But he didn't stop. He steadied his breath and accepted it. The world was harsh. His resolve couldn't waver just because it was uncomfortable.
His aura grew stronger the longer he stayed open.
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Psychic Training – Phase 2: Control
Next, Aiden stood. He faced a pile of stones stacked waist-high.
He narrowed his eyes.
A faint purple shimmer flickered behind his pupils.
"Lift."
The stones wobbled. One hovered upward. Slowly. Unsteadily. His jaw clenched. Sweat ran down his temples.
"Steady… not with strength… with balance."
The rock quivered, but remained afloat. Then a second joined it.
His hands didn't move, but his mind ached. The effort was like doing push-ups inside his skull.
Suddenly, a branch snapped behind him.
The distraction shattered his focus — the stones dropped with a thud.
Aiden gasped and dropped to one knee.
"Still not good enough under pressure…"
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Aura Training – Phase 3: Projection
He stood in front of a tree stump with a paper target nailed to it — a crude red circle painted in the middle.
He stretched his palm forward, aura swirling around his forearm.
"Pulse."
A pale blue burst of aura shot from his palm, crashing into the stump with a dull thud. The paper fluttered, but didn't tear.
"Too weak."
He tried again.
"Pulse!"
This time, the aura formed a proper ring — it struck the mark, burned the center of the paper, and shook the stump.
Still not enough to knock it over. But it was improving.
He panted, legs trembling.
⸻
Psychic Defense – Phase 4: Meditation and Barrier
He lay down, arms spread, and let his mind float.
From his body, a translucent sheen shimmered faintly — a weak psychic barrier, like a soap bubble of thought.
He'd read that true psychics could block attacks, deflect lies, and even reflect emotion.
Aiden couldn't do any of that. Yet.
His bubble lasted 14 seconds before popping.
"…14 seconds longer than last week," he said softly.
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Flashback: The Day of the Awakening
Blood. Smoke. Corpses.
That day was seared into his mind.
His parents' eyes. Unmoving. Cold.
That was the day his aura snapped open. That was the day his psychic powers unlocked like a dam breaking.
Power born from grief, not peace.
"But if that's the fire I have… I'll forge it into steel."
⸻
Closing Scene
As the moon rose, Aiden collapsed onto his back. The grass was cool. The sky shimmered.
He looked up at the stars.
"I don't have a Gold Talent. I wasn't born special."
"So I'll become special."
No shortcuts. No systems. No cheats.
Just pain, persistence, and power carved from effort.