When the boys turned nine, the question of trainer school became a pressing one.

For all that the Battle Subway functioned as an educational tool, it was almost exclusively self-driven; trainers had to take it upon themselves to find study material or seek out a second opinion on their battle style. It was a battle facility first, and a resource second-- and, even though Rael and Kari undoubtedly knew enough to qualify as subway trainers, it would create a conflict of interests. While that might be an avenue to consider further down the line, it wasn’t on the table for the moment.

Unova was fortunate enough to boast a number of options: the Stratus Trainer School in Aspertia, the Blueberry Academy, and the competing Battle Institute which… wasn’t going to happen, if they were taking Emmet’s opinions into the decision.

Aspertia’s was a younger facility-- much smaller in scale-- but both local and headed by a former Battle Subway challenger. It would be nice and relaxed, and mean that the boys still spent the majority of their time at home; in another region, the daily commute might be an issue, but not one with Unova’s railroad system. That made it the forerunner against Blueberry Academy, located out on the sea, well past Undella. While it came highly recommended, the greatest sticking point was the mandated format. Doubles was a wonderful way to stretch one’s creative muscles, but it wasn’t the best starting point for new trainers; even in one-on-one matches, there were a myriad of variables to keep track of, and the inexperienced were bound to lose sight of something along the way. Adding two extra Pokemon on top of that was jumping directly into the deep-end-- which wasn’t exactly metaphorical, in this sense.

As they’d struck the Battle Institute on principle, the choice had seemed relatively clear-- but then Drayden had suggested looking into something abroad. Ingo had been hesitant to follow up on the proposal, knowing that the boys would struggle with such a vast separation at their age; even if he hadn’t stated as much, that had been another motivation for striking Blueberry Academy from the running. It wasn’t a decision that would go into effect immediately, but he knew they wouldn’t change so drastically over the course of a year.

That said, it was… a valid point, and it wouldn’t do to dismiss it offhand.

Ingo was still rather lost as to how, exactly, that led to visiting Paldea’s Naranja Academy in person, but there was no use dwelling on that in the thick of things.

To avoid confusion, they’d implemented a buddy system. Of course both Ingo and Emmet would watch out for both of the kids, but for today, the passengers had been given a specific dad and told to stay with them, even if the other was nearby; that way, they knew exactly who was keeping an eye on who, and no one risked getting lost in the shuffle.

Last Ingo had heard, Emmet and Kari were headed to check out one of the students’ common areas while he and Rael were in the art room. The teacher there-- an acquaintance of Drayden’s and their secondary point of contact, after the director-- was happy to explain how their work here related to the world around them. Frankly, Hassel may have been… a little too happy to explain, choking up as he delved into the symbolism behind his class’s most recent collaboration, but Rael was fascinated, and Ingo-- with very little room to talk in this regard-- could respect a passion for one’s career. He wasn’t expecting Rael to sit quietly for any reason when they were somewhere new and exciting, but something in Hassel’s commentary must have struck a chord with him; he wanted to draw a picture for the art room’s wall, too.

While Rael was focused, Ingo gravitated to the side of the room-- far enough so that conversation wouldn’t disturb the boy, but where he still had a perfect view of where his son was and what he was doing.

“I’m impressed,” He said as quietly as he could manage; he’d gotten better with years of practice not waking sleeping children, but sometimes his enthusiasm got the better of him, still, “A friend of ours is an artist, as well; Kari, my other son, would engage with his craft, but Rael was never interested.”

Ingo knew perfectly well that it was a matter of intimidation, but he would never breathe a word of it; Burgh was entirely, unabashedly himself, and that level of energy could be difficult to weather at a certain age. If it was a matter of minor socialization or playing with Pokemon, Rael was perfectly happy to interact, but as soon as it became a matter of creative pursuits, he clammed up. He drew at home, as all children did, but never when Burgh encouraged it. He’d clumsily signed, once, that he was afraid: Burgh was an artist, and Rael didn’t want him to see his art and not like it.

As an adult, Ingo knew it was a preposterous thought; Burgh would never stifle a beginner's creative vision, but it was difficult to explain that to a nervous child. On a few occasions, Ingo had encouraged Rael to give it a try, or share something from home, but the boys’s reaction had proven that he truly wasn’t ready yet, and so he hadn’t pushed. To see him so eager to draw a picture-- for someone he would view as a figure of artistic authority-- was exciting.

Hassel smiled at the small figure scribbling furiously at the table. “Perhaps he simply hadn’t found the right inspiration.”

“Oh, he loves bugs.” Ingo said, somewhat thoughtlessly, and then he processed Hassel’s actual point. The cap he was wearing wasn’t from his uniform, and the weight was slightly different, so it sat oddly when he tilted the brim down from embarrassment. “But it’s also very true that factual and creative interests are completely separate from one another.”

Hassel was gracious about it, though; he chuckled under his breath and let the gaffe drop. “Well it shall most certainly be a pleasure to help him learn, should you decide to trust us with your sons’ education. Drayden had mentioned that they grew up surrounded with professional battlers-- that must give them quite the unique perspective on our trade.”

“One might assume-- though we’ve seen a number of very young people pass our entry exam and go on to become subway trainers. The Battle Subway is an ideal outlet for those whose interest outweighs their age, until such a time that they can go on their own journeys.” There weren’t a great many number of preschool-age subway trainers, but they’d seen more than just Oda in their tenures; Rael and Kari grew up with battling constantly in their peripherals, but their interest was more passive in comparison. Kari’s drive to find a partner wasn’t because he wanted to participate in the sport, but a deep-seated yearning for the companionship of a Pokemon.

Hassel nodded, eyes roving the art-filled walls, and his expression creased fondly. “You’re correct; there are, in fact, those who begin their journeys with Pokemon quite early on in their lives. We do see a number of them here, as w--”

A sharp but melodic fwee-fweeeet cut through the air, and Ingo immediately slapped a hand over his Xtransceiver to dampen the sound-- only to inch it away so he could check who was calling. Given the circumstances, he’d expected it to be an update from Emmet, and he wasn’t disappointed.

“I’m terribly sorry, can you give me just a moment?” He asked, and Hassel inclined his head, stepping toward the windows in order to offer a clear conscience in regards to their conversation, and some semblance of privacy. Usually, Ingo would step out entirely, but he settled for crossing the room, refusing to leave Rael alone when they were so far from home. His Xtransceiver continued to titter at him until he answered.

He’d taken long enough to pick up that Emmet’s eyes were on something beyond the Xtransceiver when the call connected, and instead of speaking, he raised his free hand to to the camera, knowing the motion would draw his brother’s attention. Emmet did, in fact, glance down and refocus.

“Are you at the schoolyard?” He asked, straight to the point. He only looked at the background after the fact, which gave him his answer, but Ingo ignored the redundancy.

“No, we stopped at the art room; are you already waiting on us?”

“No.” Emmet said, which made it plain that he wished they had been, “We became waylaid in the school store. There was a student with a Pawmi. Kari wanted to see it.”

Ingo hummed, waiting for the rest of it.

“He decided to purchase a Tandemaus patterned notebook while we were here.” His scoff wasn’t directed at their son, but at his brother, who touched a hand to his lips, charmed with the mental image. “Yup. I know. We will be en route to the school yard as soon as he’s finished his transaction. You deserved to have an estimated time of arrival.”

At that, Ingo hesitated. He didn’t want to derail their plans, but he didn’t want to rush Rael, either. He took an extra step back, as though that would help at all, and made a point of hushing himself to say, “We may be here longer than anticipated; Rael wanted to draw something for Hassel’s classroom.”

Emmet blinked at him, almost uncomprehending.

“I know,” He echoed, and glanced back across the room. His intention wasn’t to pry, but the sheet of paper was starting to look pretty full, so maybe it wouldn’t set them off course, after all. “Is there another stop you could make before we meet up?”

Emmet glanced off to the side, considering the immediate options, and then nodded. “We’ll get some berry juice from the cafeteria. For when they’re running around later. Such a busy place should distract Kari temporarily.”

“Thank you, that sounds appropriate; we’ll meet you once Rael’s finished his drawing.” Ingo said, tilting his head to acknowledge the conversation’s end. Emmet nodded back at him, and his Xtransceiver defaulted to its home screen.

At the call’s conclusion, Rael glanced up at him, gauging whether it was time for them to leave. Ingo shook his head and crossed the room to join Hassel again; when they eased into a casual discussion of their respective Haxorus, Rael relaxed and went back to his coloring.

It wasn’t anything important-- a way to buy him some extra time-- but it was interesting nonetheless. Hassel’s family acted as steward to long lineage of dragons, caring for them and ensuring that the clan lived on into the next generation. It was hilariously antithetical to their Haxorus’s origin, which was down to an overly-amorous Altaria.

Ingo was saved from a question he wasn’t sure how to answer by a tapping on his wrist. Rael returned his hand to the paper, which he was holding in front of his face to hide his nose and mouth. It meant that, when he spoke, it was ever-so-slightly muffled.

“I think I’m done.” He said, silver eyes fixed on Hassel.

“Are you, now?” Hassel asked, expression soft. “May I see it?”

Rael lowered it a bit, so his nose peeked out over the upper edge, and finally looked at his father.

Ingo sort-of-but-didn’t-really smile at him, which got him to lower it the rest of the way. “Would you like me to step away for a moment?”

With a rapid shake of his head, Rael’s hand shot out and grabbed him by the sleeve, fist tight around the fabric.

“Alright, then; if you don’t mind, I’d love to see it, too.” He said. When he didn’t try to move away, Rael let go, and then went so far as to push on his hip.

“Go over there so you can both see.” Rael told him and, dutifully, Ingo took a step nearer to Hassel. With both of his hands available, Rael turned the paper over to show them the other side.

It was a bit hard to parse at first, but after a second, the concentric circles and irregular lines told Ingo what he was looking at. There was a high likelihood that Rael had started with a Klink, and realized it left him with more blank space than he wanted-- either that, or he’d specifically chosen to give each of the gears their own face, which was also very possible. The third gear that made it a Klang was too big to fit in its entirety, but one of its eyes and its mouth had made it into the picture and, after studying it, Ingo realized there was a warped gear at the bottom-- tilted at an extreme angle to fit the space Rael had been able to work with. A Klinklang! A child’s rendition of a Klinklang from memory, but a Klinklang nonetheless!

“Oh, bravo! We should take a picture so the Klinklang can also see your work!” He said brightly, clapping his hands together-- and he saw Rael’s lips twitch, pleased, but his son was still intent on Hassel for his reaction.

The man in question had a hand to his chin as he considered it. “Interesting… I was under the impression that a Klink’s faces normally match. What compelled you to use such vibrant colors in your depiction?”

At the first hint of scrutiny Rael went tense, fingers making little creases in the edge of the paper.

“Both are usually blue.” He said, gaze straying up to the ceiling so he didn’t have to maintain eye contact, “That’s my color, and Kari’s is red, so I wanted that one to be red like him.”

“Your brother?” Hassel asked, though of course he knew the answer by then.

There was a beat of silence as Rael nodded, and then he jumped at a sudden burst of sound-- hiding behind his father, who also instinctively startled at the unexpected noise.

“WONDERBUL!” Hassel boomed, and, in spite of the outburst, he didn’t seem upset, “Whad a beaudiful thoud! Glink, like a bair ob twins!”

Rael hesitantly peered around, looking at him from Ingo’s other side. He tucked his drawing under his arm so he could privately sign, “Why is he crying?”

“It seems he found your art, ah… very moving.” Ingo said lowly, and then-- with a glance to ensure Hassel was still caught up in his emotions-- also signed, “Let’s refrain from talking about him when he’s standing right next to us; it’s rude.”

Rael didn’t acknowledge it, but dropped his hands. While Hassel scrubbed a hand over his face-- still sniffling-- the boy emerged from his hiding spot and started fiddling with the edges of his paper.

With the new perspective granted by color theory, Ingo took a moment to consider the larger gears. He’d thought that Rael was simply mimicking real life, making the backing gear darker than the foremost two, but looking at it now, it was bordering on black, contrasting starkly against the pale gear below.

Rael glanced up in time to catch him looking, and he tilted his head minutely, tapping at the off-white gear. His son’s eyes traveled to Hassel, and he gave a terse shake of the head, signing a brief, “Later.”

After a moment, Hassel cleared his throat and resumed his professional cadence, which Rael seemed to find amusing. “You have a wonderful sense for symbolism! Shall we find a place to hang this, so my students can appreciate it?”

Ingo stood back, letting them debate where the picture would fit best, and once they’d decided, Rael pulled him over so he could take the promised photo.

As they were posed to leave, Rael hesitated and looked at Hassel one more time. “I’m sorry I made you cry, but… I’m kind of happy you liked it that much, too?”

Hassel’s face creased as he beamed back at him. “As am I! Thank you kindly for sharing your artwork with us.”

“We appreciate your hospitality today,” Ingo said, making sure to put every ounce of that good will into his voice, “Even if Naranja Academy isn’t the best fit, I’ll be in contact with regards to Haxorus.”

The door shut behind them, a solid and reassuring thud, and Ingo took Rael by the shoulder as they started their walk to the annex.

“Okay!” Rael said, perking up out of nowhere, “Obviously you’re the black gear. You had us, so that's where you are. And dad hovers. So that made sense, too.”

Taken off-guard by the tonal whiplash, it took a second for Ingo to connect what Rael was talking about-- and when it did, he had to stifle an embarrassingly loud snort into his elbow. For several seconds, he walked blind, trusting Rael to take them twelve feet without incident, laughing helplessly all the way.

When he was able to breathe without snickering on the exhale, he let go of the boy’s shoulder in order to card gingerly through his hair, instead.

“Hassel was entirely correct,” He said, unable to articulate just how sweet and adorably silly it was, “Your metaphors are impeccable.”