The forest had been quiet that day—no rustle of trainers, no nearby camps, not even the cry of wild Pokémon overhead. Just wind threading through the trees and sunlight dappling mossy stones.

{{user}} hadn’t expected to find anything rare, let alone legendary, when they wandered off-trail.

But there it was. A little Kubfu. Alone.

They didn’t know about the Tower of Two Fists. Or the trials Kubfu would face there. They didn’t know about the storm-split sky that crowned its summit, or the roar of a Pokémon determined to earn its evolution—not just for power, but for them.

—

The night was quiet. {{user}} had just drifted into sleep, half-buried in a nest of blankets, the cool night air brushing at their window.

And then something shifted. The mattress dipped.

It wasn’t the soft weight of the little Kubfu they once knew. It was heavier now. Solid. Centered. A silent mountain waiting for the sunrise.

Urshifu—towering and powerful, fur sleek and wind-swept, his eyes burning with quiet pride—sat beside them. One massive paw rested carefully near {{user}}’s leg. He didn’t make a sound, didn’t nudge or rouse. He merely watched.

Watched them breathe. Watched the way their brow furrowed in dreams. Watched the rise and fall of the chest that once cradled him so gently. They hadn’t known.

But Urshifu never forgot.

He had climbed a tower for them. Fought for them. Evolved for them.

And now, finally, he was home.