Everyone in the Galar region knew about Grimmsnarl, if only by reputation. Big, powerful, bestial creatures, the Fairy/Dark pokemon were intimidating and ferocious in battle. Even the softest were ruthless pranksters with an impish streak a mile wide.

Jojo, however, was proud of his own Grimmsnarl, a true beast of a pokemon named Grendel. It was a fitting title; like his namesake, the apocryphal monster from old folklore and sagas, Grendel was huge, towering over humans and even other Grimmsnarl. At just under seven and a half feet, the massive troll made even enemies with type advantage take pause, and that was ignoring the fact that he was even more feral looking than the average individual of his species, with more hair than was typical for Grimmsnarl, thick and coarse and midnight black; longer, more threatening and dangerous fangs; and even more emphasized musculature. Normal Grimmsnarl already looked ripped, but Grendel looked like nothing less than a bodybuilder.

But while the average trainer might have considered that Jojo would have trouble controlling such a mighty specimen, they had no idea how deep the bond between the two of them ran. Grendel wasn’t just Jojo’s ace in battle, he was his foremost companion—pokemon, human, or otherwise. The two of them could often be found enjoying each other’s company, laughing from good-natured pranks or from playful teasing. They were always ragging on each other; in fact, one might even consider their interactions like a bromance.

The bond between them was tight indeed, and it helped Jojo develop a closer connection to Grendel which translated to increased output on the battlefield. And so it was that Jojo’s friend Hop one day asked about how they did it.

“Come on, mate, you gotta give me the secret!”

Kicking back with a laugh, Jojo met his friend’s eyes. “It shouldn’t be a secret that friendliness yields results on the battlefield! [i[Every[/i] trainer should know that, Hop!”

Sticking a sausage on a skewer to cook over their campfire, Hop rolled his eyes. “Come off it, Jojo—what you and Grendel got is next-level, don’t convince me otherwise! I treat my pokemon good, but we ain’t got nothing like you lot!”

The two young men had both obtained their eighth badges and were camping together in a lonely part of the Wild Area. It would be their last moment of respite before the big tournament a few days hence. They would be rivals on the battle pitch; tonight, though, they were just two good friends enjoying one another’s company. They’d known each other almost since they were in diapers, and Hop had been the first to offer support when Jojo had expressed his desire to transition, sticking by his friend all the way. Even after they’d gone on this journey shortly after coming of age (with all the ups and downs that came from being rivals working towards the same goal) their friendship was stronger than ever.

Jojo leaned back, putting his hand behind his heads and smirking to himself. Hop scowled. Blast it all, but Jojo was hiding something from him—he knew it! It was unlike his best mate to play coy with information like this.

“You gotta be willing to experiment!” Jojo said after a few minutes’ pause, jumping up and waving his hands animatedly to make emphasis. “Go down paths you wouldn’t have considered!”

Hop leaned back, the crackling of the fire washing over him. “And what’s that mean?”

Jojo shrugged. “Different for different trainers, I guess. Me and Grendel, we—ah, forget it.” He turned and, reaching into his knapsack, pulled out a bag of mix. “Curry? My treat.”

Curry, it turned out, would be easier to envision than to make. Grendel kept interfering with his species’ trademark penchant for mischief, doing things like “accidentally” misplacing the curry bag or using his hair to grab the ladle and stir the other direction.

Jojo didn’t seem to mind, though. “Fuck off, mate!” he exclaimed, chucking his pokemon in the arm good-naturedly after yet another prank. Hop watched it all unfold with a smile on his face—but the uncertainty didn’t go away. He was close to Dubwool, to Snorlax, to the pokemon his brother had given him—every member of his team! He listened to them, fed them, practiced with them, even played with them; but despite it all, nothing he had was close to this natural chemistry between Jojo and Grendel. As his friend served up the curry—meaty, with a hint of sweetness from a few mixed berries—Hop reflected. Maybe it’s nothing you can learn or force, he figured. It’s gotta come natural. In that case, no wonder Jojo was having such a hard time explaining it to him.

After dinner, Hop released his team and Jojo released his as well, and all their pokemon milled together good-naturedly, play-fighting and trying to sneak helpings of leftover curry. Afterwards, it was time to set up the tents.

As Hop started putting his up, he noticed some unusually hesitant behavior from Jojo, who was normally an exuberant ball of energy. Grendel was hovering behind him, looking excited about something. “Hey, Hop,” he said, shifting and looking a touch—embarrassed? “I’m gonna, uhhh—set my tent up down there.”

Hop followed his friend’s pointing finger to see a lonesome-looking ravine and raised an eyebrow. “You sure, mate?” he asked.

“Yeah! You can, I mean should, just, um—hang out here. No worries.”

Hop frowned. Something was going on—Jojo was acting weird. But the more he thought of it, the more he figured everything was fine. Jojo was a bit hesitant, but not fearful or upset. In fact, he almost seemed to be hiding a sense of excited anticipation. Whatever was happening, he seemed fine with it—so Hop saw no reason to work himself up. “Alright,” he replied. “We can meet up here in the morning.” And as Jojo and Grendel wandered off, Hop shook his head.

What should have been an uneventful night for Hop—one of his last before the big tourney—ended up being anything but. He was abruptly woken in the middle of the night from some unfamiliar noises—noises coming from the ravine where Jojo had set up camp.

Sticking his head out of his tent, wondering what was going on, Hop was jolted into awareness by a sharp, distant note—Jojo’s voice, rising in what sounded like desperation! Quickly throwing on shoes and a jacket, Hop rushed down the ravine.

Jojo’s tent was situated a little bit further down, and the noise was coming from inside. The closer he got, the more uncertain Hop grew. That was definitely the sound of Jojo and Grendel. Were the two of them fighting? The closer he got (and the closer he listened) the more Hop began to blush. Those sounds… it sounded like…

Well.