Austin stirred awake, the soft sheets of the Pokémon Center bed tangled around his legs. His head was heavy, his body sluggish, and his mind foggy from the unexpectedly long nap he'd taken. The muted amber hues of the evening sky leaked through the curtains, painting the room in a tranquil glow. He rubbed his face, blinking away the remnants of sleep, before groaning and running a hand through his messy, spiky hair.

  "I need coffee," he mumbled groggily, his voice scratchy from the nap.

  Dragging himself out of bed, Austin shuffled over to the small mirror in the corner of the room. His reflection wasn't exactly impressive—his hair was sticking up at odd angles, and his face still had the faint imprint of the pillow. He gave himself a half-hearted attempt at finger-combing his hair into something that didn't look like he'd been electrocuted by Pikachu.

  "Good enough."

  Steam hissed softly from the hot water dispenser as Austin grabbed a flimsy plastic cup. He filled it with boiling water, the heat radiating through the thin material, before fishing a packet of instant coffee from his bag. Tearing it open, he poured the granules into the water, watching as they swirled and dissolved into a murky brown liquid. He stirred it with a tiny plastic stick, the scent of bitter coffee wafting up and nudging him further awake.

  Taking a tentative sip, Austin winced slightly at the harsh, acrid taste. "Instant coffee," he muttered, shaking his head with a small smirk. "Not good, but it works."

  Cup in hand, he wandered over to an empty table near the window. The view outside was breathtaking, the fading sunlight casting long shadows across Pewter City, while streaks of violet and gold painted the horizon. It was a calming sight, and for a moment, Austin let himself get lost in it.

  Reaching into his backpack, Austin pulled out Inside Kanto: A Political Analysis, the weighty book he'd bought earlier to satisfy his growing curiosity about the world he now found himself in. He flipped to the table of contents, scanning the chapter titles before settling on one that caught his eye: The History of the Pokémon League. Intrigued, he turned to the page.

  The chapter began with an unexpected twist. According to the book, the Pokémon League had its roots in the Holy Michina Empire. Austin paused, his brow furrowing.

  "Michina..." he muttered under his breath, the name ringing a faint bell. And then it hit him. "Wait, isn't that the place from the Arceus movie?" He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "So the movies are canon here too? Great... maybe I can meet Arceus one day and get some answers."

  His amusement faded as he read on. The book described how the Michina Empire had used Pokémon battles as both entertainment and warfare. The Ludi Gladiatori Sinica Monstra—gladiatorial games involving Pokémon—were the precursor to the modern Pokémon League. Austin grimaced as he read about how slaves were forced to participate in these games, both as trainers and as part of the spectacle.

  "Yikes," he muttered, taking another sip of his coffee.

  The book went on to explain that exceptional trainers, known as Lanista Monstra or "Monster Trainers," could earn their freedom by excelling in battle. These trainers were often recruited into the Michina military, a tradition that echoed in modern times, where Pokémon League champions were often scouted for elite roles like Rangers or police officers.

  As he flipped the page, his enthusiasm waned. The rest of the chapter barely scratched the surface of the gladiatorial games, leaving him wanting more. "Seriously?" he grumbled, tapping the book in frustration. "Would it have killed you to include more details?"

  Still, what he'd learned was fascinating—and a little unsettling. His eyes wandered across the room as he mulled over the information, eventually landing on a colorful poster pinned to the cafeteria wall. It advertised the Indigo League with bold text and vibrant images of gym badges.

  I haven't registered for the League yet!

  His chair screeched loudly as he pushed it back, startling a nearby group of trainers. Muttering an apology, Austin bolted out of the cafeteria, the half-finished coffee forgotten on the table.

  Austin skidded to a stop at the front desk, panting slightly. Nurse Joy, in the middle of arranging a tray of Pokéballs, looked up at him with mild concern.

  "Is everything alright?"

  "I need to register for the Indigo League!"

  Nurse Joy blinked, clearly unimpressed by his urgency. "You ran all the way here for that?"

  "Uh… yeah?"

  With a small sigh, she reached under the counter and pulled out a registration form, sliding it toward him. "Fill this out and submit it before nine o'clock tonight. Once the Indigo League processes it, you'll receive your League card in about a week."

  "A week?!" Austin repeated, his voice rising in disbelief. "You've got to be kidding me!"

  "That's the standard processing time. You're welcome to ask around if you don't believe me."

  Austin groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Fine," he muttered, snatching the form. "Thanks, I guess."

  "Take your time," she said, returning to her work with an air of practiced patience.

  As Austin walked away, he grumbled under his breath. "A week... Great. Just great." Still, he tried to look on the bright side. "At least I'll have more time to prep for Brock…"

  Back in the cafeteria, Austin returned to his table, form in hand. He opened his Pokédex, using Ash's information as a reference to fill out the necessary details. Most of it was straightforward, but when he reached the section asking for a parent's name, he paused.

  "Father's name…" he murmured, reading the entry in Ash's records: Alexander Rothsvale.

  Austin blinked, staring at the name in confusion. "Who the hell is Alexander Rothsvale?" he muttered to himself. He'd been expecting Red, Silver, or even Giovanni. But this? This was anticlimactic.

  "Guess Ash's dad isn't as special as people think," Austin muttered, jotting down the name anyway.

  Before he could finish, a loud voice rang out from across the cafeteria.

  "Hey! Whose Fearow—uh, I mean Spearow—is this?!"

  Austin froze, his stomach sinking. "Oh no…"

  "That's my bird!" he called, jumping up from his seat and rushing toward the commotion.

  After a few awkward apologies and wrestling his stubborn Spearow away from the chaos, Austin returned to his seat, flanked by his Pokémon. Pikachu and Eevee sat beside him, looking sheepish, while Spearow perched nearby, utterly unapologetic.

  "You can't just steal someone else's food, Spearow."

  Spearow squawked dismissively, turning his back on him with a huff.

  "You're really not making this trust-and-teamwork thing easy, you know that?"

  Pikachu and Eevee exchanged a knowing look, their ears twitching as if to say, We've got a lot of work to do.

  Shaking his head, Austin picked up the form again and got back to work. Spearow, meanwhile, continued to sulk, occasionally shooting him indignant glares.

  At least I have a week to work on my team, Austin thought, leaning back in his chair. He paused, his gaze drifting toward the window as his mind wandered. I wonder how different Brock would be in this world. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. If Brock was the same skill level as the anime, the manga, or even the games, this should be easy... right?

  His train of thought was interrupted when Pikachu leaned over curiously, sniffing his coffee. With a tentative lick, the Electric-type's face immediately scrunched up in disgust, and he spat it out with an exaggerated "Pikaaa!"

  Austin burst out laughing at the sight, holding his stomach as Pikachu gave the cup an offended glare.

  The Eevee sniffed it cautiously, wrinkled his nose, and quickly backed away as if the mere scent of it was enough to offend his sensibilities.

  "And of course, you wouldn't like it either," Austin said with a smirk, glancing at Spearow. The bird puffed up his feathers and turned his head away with an indignant squawk, the very picture of a tsundere refusing to admit he might be interested.

  Austin leaned forward, his fingers tapping the edge of the cup thoughtfully. No, I'm not going to underestimate this world, he reminded himself, his smile fading into a look of quiet determination. Let's prep.

  Flint walked quietly down the narrow streets of Pewter City, his boots scuffing against the uneven cobblestones. The houses here were old, their stone walls and arched doorways a reminder of simpler times. His steps slowed as he neared a familiar house—the one he had once called home. The weight in his chest grew heavier as he gazed at the worn wooden door, the same one he had walked through countless times as a younger man. His hand trembled at his side.

  It was his family's home. The home he had abandoned.

  He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out an envelope. Inside was everything he had managed to save this month, the meager earnings from odd jobs and handyman work. Flint bent down and carefully placed the envelope on the doorstep. His fingers lingered on it, the temptation to knock gnawing at him. To face them—to face Brock, his oldest son, and the others. To explain. To apologize.

  But what could he say? The weight of his past mistakes felt suffocating. The sound of footsteps from within the house broke his thoughts.

  "Coming!" Brock's voice called out.

  Flint's heart leapt into his throat. Panic set in, his chest tightening with every passing second. He couldn't do it. His body moved on instinct, turning him away from the door. He hurried down the street, ducking into a shadowed alley just as the door creaked open. Pressing his back against the cold stone of a nearby building, he clenched his fists, his breath shaky.

  "Coward," Flint muttered bitterly to himself, his voice a low rasp. He slammed his fist against the wall, the pain grounding him for a moment. But it wasn't enough to drown out the shame.

  He stayed there for a long moment, hidden from view, before finally pushing himself away from the wall. His shoulders slumped, and his steps were slower now as he drifted toward the city's park.

  The park was alive with energy, a stark contrast to Flint's somber mood. Children ran and laughed, their voices carrying through the air as trainers gathered near a dusty battlefield to watch matches. The ring was simple—a patch of hardened dirt surrounded by flat stone platforms for spectators. Flint found himself drawn to the commotion, stopping under the shade of a tree to observe.

  Among the crowd, he spotted a familiar face—Austin. He was walking toward the battlefield alongside another young trainer, a boy named Jimmy who radiated cocky energy. The two seemed to be exchanging a few barbed words, but Flint was too far away to catch the specifics.

  Flint's interest piqued when the trainers took their places on opposite sides of the field.

  Jimmy went first, tossing out a Pokéball. A Poliwag appeared in a flash of light, its glossy blue skin glistening under the sun. Its large, round eyes and the swirling black-and-white pattern on its belly gave it an almost hypnotic charm.

  On Austin's side, he released a small Rattata. The purple Normal-type stood firm, its eyes sharp and alert. Flint raised an eyebrow. "A Rattata?" he muttered under his breath. "This kid's gonna need some luck."

  But then Flint's eyes narrowed as he noticed Austin carefully strapping something onto Rattata—a weighted training vest. Flint's brow furrowed in confusion.

  "Why the hell is he using that now?" he murmured. "It's gonna slow her down. She'll get wiped out."

  Jimmy seemed to have the same thought. "What's that supposed to be? You think I'm some kind of joke?"

  "Not at all. Just trying something new."

  Jimmy's face turned red with anger, and he let out a frustrated grunt, tossing a rock into the air. The small stone arced high before clattering back to the ground. "Fine! Let's see if your little stunt pays off!"

  The match began with Jimmy calling the first move.

  "Poliwag, Bubble Beam!"

  "Run right! Wait for my signal," Austin instructed.

  Poliwag opened its mouth and unleashed a flurry of blue bubbles, each one gleaming as they hurtled toward Rattata. Despite the extra weight of the vest, Rattata darted to the side, her movements quick and precise. The bubbles burst harmlessly behind her, leaving small craters in the dirt.

  "Turn your head!" Jimmy called out.

  Poliwag swiveled its head, redirecting the stream of bubbles toward Rattata's new position. The attack swept across the field like a water cannon.

  "Jump!" Austin shouted.

  Rattata leapt into the air, the Bubble Beam passing just beneath her. She landed gracefully, her tail flicking in anticipation.

  "Quick Attack into Tail Whip!"

  Rattata charged forward, her small form blurring with speed. Though the added weight of the vest made the Quick Attack slightly off-target, she used the momentum to spin mid-run, slapping Poliwag across the face with her tail.

  "Water Gun!"

  Poliwag steadied itself and fired a jet of water from its mouth. The high-pressure stream shot toward Rattata like a bullet.

  "Dodge with Quick Attack!"

  The Quick Claw on Rattata's vest glinted in the sunlight as she bolted to the side, narrowly avoiding the Water Gun. She moved with an agility that seemed impossible given the added weight she carried.

  "Hypnosis!" Jimmy barked in desperation.

  Poliwag began swaying, the spiral on its belly spinning hypnotically. The air seemed to shift, the pattern almost drawing Rattata in.

  "Tail Whip, now!"

  Before the hypnosis could take hold, Rattata spun again, her tail striking Poliwag's face with a sharp crack. The attack broke Poliwag's rhythm, disrupting the hypnotic swirl.

  "Quick Attack!" Austin shouted.

  Without hesitation, Rattata lowered her head and charged forward. The impact of the headbutt sent Poliwag tumbling backward, its energy spent. The combination of Quick Attacks and repeated Tail Whips had taken its toll.

  Poliwag collapsed onto the dirt, defeated.

  Jimmy groaned in frustration, recalling his fallen Pokémon. "No way... You've gotta be kidding me!"

  Austin crouched down, a proud smile on his face as he gently stroked Rattata's head. "You were amazing out there," he said softly. He examined her closely, noticing the faint dilation of veins along her tail—a clear sign of how hard she'd pushed herself.

  "You've been working hard, huh? Time to rest."

  But Rattata puffed out her chest, clearly eager for another fight.

  Austin chuckled, tapping her nose lightly. "Nope. One battle. That's what we agreed on."

  Rattata huffed but didn't resist as Austin scooped her up and placed her on his shoulder. "See? You get the best seat in the house."

  Pikachu's eyes narrowed as it watched Rattata claim the coveted shoulder spot. With a defiant squeak, Pikachu hopped onto Austin's other shoulder, glaring at Rattata.

  Austin groaned, his balance thrown off as the two Pokémon jostled for space. "Guys, seriously?"

  "Ahem!" Jimmy interrupted. "We're not done here!"

  "Oh, right. My bad. Ready for round two?"

  "You're gonna regret that cocky attitude!"

  Jimmy smirked with confidence as he released his second Pokémon: a Nidorino. The large, purple quadrupedal Pokémon landed on the field with a low growl, its spiny ears flicking as it sniffed the air. Its black eyes gleamed with a predator's focus, and its sharp horn shone menacingly in the afternoon sun. Austin assessed the Nidorino carefully. The Poison-type looked tough, no doubt about it. Its movements were deliberate and strong, and Austin could already tell this wouldn't be an easy fight. With a practiced flick, he released Spearow onto the battlefield. The small bird materialized in a burst of light, shaking his feathers as he squawked defiantly. Despite his smaller size, Spearow radiated a fiery determination that made him seem larger than life.

  Jimmy raised an eyebrow at the sight of the weighted training vest strapped to Spearow's body, along with the Quick Claw necklace Austin had fastened earlier. His lips curled into a smirk. "What's that supposed to be? Some kind of fashion statement?" he jeered. "You think you can win with your Pokémon weighed down like that?"

  "You'll see."

  "Alright then, let's get this over with. Nidorino, Poison Sting!"

  Nidorino's horn began to glow white, firing off a flurry of sharp, poisonous darts. The sound of the stingers cutting through the air was enough to make the spectators flinch.

  "Dodge!" Austin shouted.

  Spearow flapped his wings hard, rising into the air despite the weight of the vest. The darts zipped past him, narrowly missing their mark. His movements were slower than usual, but his agility hadn't been completely hindered.

  "Not bad," Jimmy admitted with a shrug. "But you're still too slow. Nidorino, Water Pulse! Hit him while he's airborne!"

  Nidorino opened its mouth, and a shimmering orb of water formed between its jaws, pulsating with energy. The orb expanded into a ring of water that blasted forward with incredible speed.

  Austin's eyes widened. "Fly up!"

  Spearow flapped hard to gain altitude, but the Water Pulse clipped him, drenching his feathers and sending him spiraling down. He hit the ground with a wet thud, mud splattering around him.

  "Spearow!" Austin called out, his heart tightening in his chest. "Can you get up?"

  Spearow twitched, shaking his body as water dripped from his feathers. With a defiant squawk, he stood back up. "That's the spirit," Austin said. "We're not out of this yet. Peck! Let's go!"

  Spearow lunged forward, his beak glowing as he aimed for Nidorino's flank.

  "Leer, then Poison Sting! Keep him back!"

  Nidorino's eyes glowed red as it locked Spearow in a piercing glare. Spearow faltered for a split second, the intimidating look throwing him off balance, but he pushed through, darting to the side to avoid the barrage of poisonous darts that followed.

  "Shake it off, Spearow!" Austin shouted. "Use Fury Attack! Let's show them what you've got!"

  Spearow let out a fierce cry as he ripped off the training vest in one swift motion. Freed from the added weight, he moved like lightning. His talons glowed as he slashed at Nidorino in rapid succession, each hit precise and relentless. Nidorino growled in frustration, unable to keep up with the sudden increase in speed.

  "Water Pulse! Point blank!"

  Nidorino opened its mouth, ready to launch another Water Pulse, but spearow was faster.

  "Quick Attack! Close the distance!"

  Spearow darted forward, white energy trailing behind him as he slammed into Nidorino's side before the Water Pulse could form. The impact sent the larger Pokémon stumbling backward.

  "Don't let up, Nidorino! Peck! End this now!"

  Nidorino charged forward, its glowing horn aimed directly at Spearow. The little bird was visibly tired, his breaths coming in labored puffs. Austin clenched his fists, searching for an opening, a way to turn the tide.

  And then it happened.

  A dark aura began to swirl around Spearow's beak, faint at first but growing more intense with each passing second. The crimson-black energy seemed to pulse and crackle as if responding to Spearow's determination.

  "What the—?" Austin muttered, his mind racing. He didn't recognize the move, but there was no time to think. "Go for it, Spearow! Give it everything you've got!"

  Spearow let out a piercing screech as he launched himself into the air. The dark aura around his beak flared brighter as he dove straight toward Nidorino, his small body cutting through the air like an arrow.

  "Water Pulse! Stop him!"

  Nidorino fired the pulsating ring of water, but Spearow didn't dodge. Instead, he pushed straight through it, the dark energy around his beak shielding him from the worst of the attack. He rammed into Nidorino's neck with a force that shook the battlefield, the dark aura exploding outward on impact.

  A blinding light enveloped the field, forcing everyone to shield their eyes.

  When the light faded, Nidorino lay sprawled on the ground, unconscious. Spearow, though poisoned and exhausted, stood triumphantly for a moment before collapsing onto his side.

  Austin rushed forward, quickly recalling Spearow into his Pokéball. "You were incredible," he whispered, his voice thick with pride.

  He pulled out his Pokédex, desperate to understand what had just happened. The screen displayed information on a move called Assurance. It was a Dark-type attack that doubled in power if the target had already taken damage.

  "So that's what it was," Austin murmured. "You've got more tricks up your sleeve than I thought."

  Jimmy approached, his expression a mix of frustration and grudging respect. He extended his hand. "You earned that win. I've got to admit, you're a lot tougher than I thought."

  Austin shook his hand, his grip firm. "Thanks. You gave me a real challenge."

  "You're gonna need it if you're heading to Pewter Gym. Brock's no joke."

  Austin stretched his arms over his head. "Guess I've got some more training to do," he said. "But hey, a little intel wouldn't hurt. Mind telling me about Brock?"

  "Figures. That's your prize, huh? You know, you might be the first trainer I've met who uses Pokémon battles to squeeze out information instead of just fighting for cash or bragging rights."

  "Well, hey, it's called strategy. I can't afford to buy guidebooks when I can just battle locals for free tips. Multi-tasking at its finest."

  Jimmy raised an eyebrow, stuffing his Pokéball into his bag. "You do realize most trainers just ask, right? No battles required."

  "Where's the fun in that? A little blood, sweat, and tail-whipping really builds trust. Also, if I lost, there wouldn't be much talking—just me quietly leaving with my pride in shambles."

  Jimmy barked out a laugh, shaking his head. "Alright, alright, you're definitely one of a kind. Fine, pay attention, because I'm only saying this once..."

  [DAY 2]

  The next morning, Flint found Austin back in the park. This time, the boy wasn't battling but was fully immersed in an intense training session with his team. Flint leaned against a tree, watching quietly from the shade as the young trainer worked.

  Rattata darted back and forth across the open field, her small body strapped with a weighted training vest that looked far too heavy for her size. Her paws kicked up small clouds of dust as she zigzagged around obstacles Austin had set up—stones, buckets, and even a tipped-over trash bin.

  Not far away, Pikachu held a glowing metal rod in his small paws, connected to a battery with wires that hummed faintly. Sparks danced across his cheeks as he bit down on the rod, his body trembling slightly from the effort. Flint recognized the setup immediately—training designed to strengthen an Electric-type's attacks by conditioning them to absorb and withstand higher voltages.

  Eevee was engaged in a more playful exercise with Austin, though it was no less challenging. Austin tossed bright plastic rings into the air, calling out commands as Eevee darted after them, leaping and twisting midair to catch them in her mouth. Above them, Spearow circled lazily at first, but at Austin's whistle, he began sharp aerial dives, mimicking the movement of a predator in pursuit. Every now and then, Spearow swerved to intercept a ring mid-flight, his beak snapping shut with a satisfying clink.

  Flint's eyes drifted to a neatly arranged pile of protein shakes and vitamin drinks on a blanket nearby, each labeled with a Pokémon's name. His brow furrowed slightly.

  He continued to watch as Austin knelt beside a notebook, scribbling furiously while occasionally glancing at his Pokémon. Flint didn't need to see the pages to know they were filled with strategies, observations, and notes. The kid's focus was impressive, almost unnerving.

  A moment later, a boy slightly older than Austin approached, his posture cocky and his expression confident. Flint recognized the type instantly—someone who enjoyed throwing their weight around, especially with less experienced trainers.

  "You," the trainer said, smirking. "I've heard you're battling around here. You want to go a round with me?"

  Austin looked up from Spearow and cocked an eyebrow. "Sure. Why not?" He didn't sound intimidated in the slightest, but Flint caught the flicker of nerves that flashed across his face when he saw the trainer send out Onix.

  The enormous, rock-serpentine Pokémon coiled itself onto the battlefield, its massive body casting a shadow over the ground. Flint noticed Austin's hand tighten slightly around Pikachu's Pokéball, but he stayed composed as he sent the electric type out to fight.

  The battle was brutal. Pikachu used everything he had; even a daring move where he tried to ride up Onix's rocky spine to land a hit. But the size and sheer resilience of the Onix were too much. A single Rock Tomb brought Pikachu to his knees, leaving Austin with his first defeat of the day.

  As the older trainer gloated, Flint kept his eyes on Austin. The boy crouched beside Pikachu, murmuring something softly as he gently rubbed the Pokémon's head. Then he stood, brushing the dirt off his pants, and walked straight over to the other trainer.

  "Hey," Austin said. "Got a second?"

  The trainer raised an eyebrow. "What, you want another beating?"

  Austin shook his head, smiling slightly. "Nah, I just want to know how you trained your Onix. How'd you teach it to use Rock Tomb so precisely? And that counter you used against Quick Attack—was that something you came up with on the fly, or do you practice that?"

  The older trainer blinked, his smirk faltering. "You're asking me… for advice?"

  "Why not?" Austin said with a shrug. "You're good. I'd be stupid not to learn something from you."

  The older trainer looked taken aback but eventually nodded, his tone softening. "Alright, kid. Let's talk."

  Flint watched from the sidelines as Austin spent the next hour asking questions, scribbling notes, and absorbing every piece of advice the older trainer had to offer. The boy's humility and hunger for growth were undeniable.

  [DAY 3]

  The following day, Flint didn't find Austin in the park. Instead, he stumbled upon the young trainer on the rocky cliffs just outside Pewter City. Austin had turned the uneven terrain into a makeshift training ground, and his Pokémon were hard at work.

  Rattata, Pikachu, and Eevee scrambled up the steep rocks, their bodies heaving as they adjusted to the weighted vests strapped to them. Every movement was calculated, the incline forcing them to push their limits as they leaped between ledges, sometimes faltering but always getting back up. Spearow circled above, his sharp eyes tracking his teammates. Occasionally, the bird swooped down, catching one of them if they slipped too far. His flight patterns were noticeably tighter and more deliberate than they had been in the park.

  Austin sat on a flat rock nearby, a notebook balanced on his knee and a pen in hand. Flint noticed a pile of papers scattered beside him, one of which caught his eye. It read: Strategies to Beat Brock.

  "Oh, hey Flint," Austin said as he noticed the man approaching from the trail. He snapped his notebook shut, a light breeze rustling the loose papers around him. "Didn't expect to see you out here."

  "You've got a real knack for showing up in the strangest places, kid," Flint said. "What are you doing all the way out here? This isn't exactly a tourist spot."

  "Training," he said simply. "After yesterday's loss to that Onix, I realized we needed to work on handling bigger, heavier opponents. Something that size? You can't just outspeed it—you have to out-think it."

  Flint arched a brow. "Huh. Most rookies would've chalked it up to bad luck and tried again without changing much."

  "Bad luck's just an excuse for not being prepared," he said firmly. "That trainer didn't win because he got lucky. He won because I didn't have a plan."

  Flint gave a low whistle. "That's some mature thinking for someone who doesn't even have their first badge yet." His eyes drifted to the pile of crumpled papers next to Austin. "What's all this, then?"

  Austin followed his gaze, then smirked. "Homework," he said, patting the notebook. "I've been talking to trainers who've battled Brock—figuring out his strategies, the Pokémon he uses, their moves, even the items he might rely on. Jimmy, that kid from the park, was bragging about beating him, so I made him spill everything he knew."

  "Let me guess—one of those 'beat me in a battle and I'll pay you' kind of deals?"

  Austin chuckled, leaning back on his hands. "Close. I offered him 500 Pokédollars if he beat me, but if I won, he had to give me the full rundown on Brock. Turns out, he's not half as good as he thinks he is. But his info was solid."

  "You're really putting in the work for one Gym Leader. Most trainers just show up and hope for the best."

  "Yeah, well, 'hope for the best' didn't stop that Onix from wiping the floor with Pikachu yesterday," Austin replied, a wry smile on his face. "I've seen what happens to trainers who just wing it. Their pokemon get hurt." He paused, his gaze drifting to his Pokémon. "I'm not gonna be one of those trainers."

  Flint studied the boy for a long moment, the afternoon sun casting sharp shadows across his face. "And the training vests?" he asked finally. "You used them in battle yesterday too. What's the deal with that?"

  Austin reached over and grabbed one of the vests, holding it up for Flint to see. The weights glinted faintly in the sunlight. "They're for endurance and speed training," he explained. "The idea is simple—if my Pokémon can handle battling with extra weight, they'll move faster and hit harder once it's off. It's like resistance training."

  "And you don't think it's a bit... much? I mean, they're still just starting out."

  Austin's expression softened as he set the vest down. "It's not about pushing them too hard," he said quietly. "It's about making sure they're ready. I don't want them going into battles unprepared, getting hurt because I didn't train them well enough." His voice dropped, just enough that Flint almost missed it. "I owe them that much."

  Flint felt a pang of respect. "You've got a good head on your shoulders, kid. More than I can say for most rookies."

  He watched Austin walk away, the young trainer's determination still lingering like a spark in the air. Flint stood there for a moment longer, hands shoved into his pockets, before turning back toward the winding streets of Pewter City. His boots scuffed against the old cobblestones as he moved, each step dragging with the weight of the encounter.

  He couldn't shake the thought of Brock—his son—and what this would mean for him.

  Lost in his thoughts, Flint stopped abruptly when a familiar voice broke through the murmur of the city.

  "Big Brother Brock! I want chocolate ice cream!"

  His head jerked toward the sound, his heart tightening in his chest as he spotted them—Brock standing in the town square, surrounded by his siblings. The youngest, a wide-eyed girl, tugged at Brock's sleeve as he patiently crouched to listen to her request. Beside her, two younger boys playfully tugged at each other's shirts, while the older siblings tried to keep the little ones in line.

  Brock's expression was warm and steady, a quiet strength radiating from him even as the chaos of his siblings swirled around him. To any passerby, it would have been a heartwarming scene—a dutiful older brother lovingly taking care of his family. But to Flint, it was a stark reminder of his own failures.

  This wasn't Brock's responsibility. It should've been his.

  Flint's fists clenched tightly at his sides as he watched. He'd left Brock to bear the burden of a family too big for one child to handle, forcing him to mature far too quickly. Brock had become the pillar of his family because Flint had abandoned them. And now… now this kid was about to crush his son in battle.

  Most trainers see battles as fights, Flint thought bitterly, his fingers curling tighter. But that kid? He sees them as chess. He's not just fighting to win—he's fighting to dismantle his opponent, to prove that every move they've planned means nothing against him.

  The image of Brock standing in front of his siblings, confident and steady, morphed into a haunting vision of him defeated—crushed under the weight of an overwhelming loss, his pride and confidence shattered. Flint couldn't bear the thought of Brock's siblings witnessing that.

  He felt the lump in his throat rise, his heart hammering against his ribcage. He had already failed Brock as a father. He couldn't let his son face humiliation like that, not when he had the power to stop it.

  "I can't let this happen," Flint muttered, his voice shaky. "I won't let this happen."

  Without fully forming a plan, Flint turned and hurried toward the outskirts of the city. His feet carried him down a familiar dirt path, overgrown with weeds but still etched into his memory. The old, abandoned cabin came into view—a relic of his younger days with Lola, Brock's mother. It had been their secret hideaway, a place where they'd escape the strict rules of their families. Now, it was a hollow shell of those happier times. Flint pushed the door open, the wood groaning under the strain of rusted hinges. Inside, the air was stale, filled with the faint scent of dust and decay. The sunlight filtered through cracks in the boarded-up windows, casting uneven beams of light across the room. His eyes scanned the space, landing on a dusty photo sitting on a rickety shelf. It was a picture of him, Lola, and a baby Brock, barely a month old. Flint froze, his breath hitching as he reached out to touch the frame. The smiling face of his infant son stared back at him, unburdened by the weight of the responsibilities he would one day carry.

  Tears stung the corners of Flint's eyes as he clutched the photo. "I'm sorry, Brock," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I've failed you."

  His gaze shifted to a small metal cube sitting beside the photo, the sheen of the TM glinting faintly in the light. Flint's jaw tightened. He grabbed the cube and bolted out the door, his mind set on what he had to do.

  Austin couldn't help but snort as he pedaled along the outskirts of Pewter City. The memory of how he and countless others back in his old world used to brag about how they'd easily be Pokémon Masters if they were in this world amused him to no end. "Just use items," they'd say. "Plan strategies," they'd boast. Austin had been one of those kids.

  But now, actually living in this world, he realized how naive that mindset had been. It wasn't a video game, and it wasn't as simple as planning for easy wins. Just the information he'd gathered on Brock alone made him realize how real and difficult this was going to be. This wasn't about memorizing type matchups; it was about preparation, adaptation, and thinking on your feet. Brock was going to be a real challenge.

  The warm breeze brushed past him as he breezed down the dirt path on his bike, Pikachu perched contentedly in the front basket, nibbling on a bottle of ketchup he'd swiped from the Pokémon Center cafeteria. Vee, meanwhile, was sitting comfortably behind him on the bike's rear rack, his large ears flopping happily with the motion.

  The quiet ride didn't last long.

  Out of nowhere, a panting, disheveled Flint appeared in the middle of the path, waving his arms frantically to catch Austin's attention.

  Austin barely managed to screech to a halt, the tires kicking up a small spray of dirt as he stopped just short of crashing into the man. "Seriously?!" Austin groaned, steadying his bike as Pikachu and Vee held on for dear life. "Why does everyone think jumping in front of a bike is a good idea?!"

  Flint bent over, hands on his knees as he caught his breath, sweat dripping from his brow. "S-Sorry," he wheezed, his words barely coherent. "I just... I need to talk to you. It's important."

  "What is it now? And please tell me it's not about selling me another magic rock."

  Flint shook his head quickly, standing upright and holding up a hand as if to calm the boy down. "No, no! Nothing like that. I need to... I want to make a deal with you."

  "A deal?" He crossed his arms, his tone wary. "Okay, what kind of deal are we talking about here?"

  Flint reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small metal cube. He held it up, the sunlight catching the polished edges. Austin blinked in surprise as he realized what it was.

  "A TM?!"

  "Yeah," Flint confirmed, taking a step closer and extending the TM toward him. "It's Hidden Power. A rare move. You can have it... on one condition."

  Austin frowned, his curiosity now mixed with caution. "What condition?"

  "Don't fight Brock."

  The silence that followed was deafening. For a moment, all Austin could do was stare at Flint, processing the absurdity of the request. Then, he burst out laughing!

  "Wait, wait," Austin said between fits of laughter. "You're telling me you ran all the way out here, panting like a dying Rapidash, just to bribe me not to battle Brock? Are you serious?"

  Flint's jaw tightened, but he didn't waver. "I am serious," he said firmly. "Take the TM, kid. Skip Pewter Gym. Go challenge another Gym first. Just... don't fight Brock as your first battle."

  Austin's laughter died down as he straightened up. "Okay, hold on," he said, his tone sharpening. "Why? Why are you so desperate for me to avoid Brock?"

  Flint hesitated, his gaze shifting to the ground as if searching for the right words. "Because..." he began, "if Brock loses to you, it's going to break him."

  Austin blinked, caught off guard by the raw emotion in Flint's voice. "Break him?" he repeated, frowning. "What are you talking about?"

  Flint ran a hand through his hair, his movements frustrated and restless. "Brock's strong, yeah. But he's been carrying so much weight on his shoulders for years. He's not just a Gym Leader, you know. He's been raising his brothers and sisters, taking care of them, making sure they have a good life—all while keeping up the Gym's reputation. If you come in here, with all your prep and strategy, and crush him..." Flint trailed off, his voice cracking slightly. "It might shatter his confidence. And Brock doesn't deserve that."

  For a long moment, neither of them said anything. Then, with a sigh, Austin dismounted his bike, setting the kickstand and stepping closer to Flint.

  "You really think so little of your son?" Austin said, his voice quiet but laced with an edge. Flint's eyes snapped up, his expression one of shock. "You think Brock's so fragile that losing one battle is going to destroy him?"

  "That's not—"

  "No, listen to me," Austin said, his voice growing firmer. "I know Brock. I know what he's done, what he's sacrificed. Do you think I don't know how strong he is? The guy gave up his own dreams to raise his siblings because you weren't there to do it." Flint flinched as if struck. "And you're standing here, trying to protect him from me, like he's some kind of glass statue that's going to shatter the moment it's touched? Give me a break."

  Flint's hands clenched into fists at his sides, his guilt and frustration boiling to the surface. "You don't understand!" he snapped. "Brock's already been through enough—"

  "Exactly!" Austin shot back. "He's been through enough. Which is why he's stronger than this! If Brock does lose, he'll get back up. Because that's what strong people do."

  Flint was silent, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths as he processed Austin's words. The boy stepped closer, looking Flint dead in the eye.

  "You don't need to protect Brock from me," Austin said. "What you need to do is stop running and be the father he needs. Because no matter how strong he is, he shouldn't have to carry everything alone."

  Flint's throat tightened, and he looked away, his vision blurring slightly as tears threatened to spill. Austin didn't wait for a response. He turned, hopping back on his bike and pedaling away, Pikachu and Vee glancing back at Flint as they disappeared down the path.

  Flint stood there, frozen, the TM still clutched tightly in his hand. The boy's words echoed in his mind, louder than his own guilt, cutting through the years of shame he'd buried himself in.

  "Lola... what do I do now?"

  Night had descended upon Pewter City, cloaking the world in a serene hush, broken only by the faint hum of streetlights and the occasional Pokémon call in the distance. Inside the Pokémon Center, the communication room glowed dimly, a soft blue light illuminating Austin's face as he waited for the call to connect. He tapped his fingers idly on the desk, sipping the remnants of his earlier coffee, now lukewarm and bitter.

  The screen flickered to life, revealing a haggard-looking Professor Oak, who blinked blearily at the camera. His silver hair was disheveled, and his white lab coat looked slightly wrinkled, as if he'd been wearing it for far too long without a break.

  "Hello?" Oak asked, rubbing his eyes and squinting at the screen. "Who is it?"

  "Professor, you look like you haven't slept in days. Do I need to remind you to take a break?"

  "Oh, it's nothing, my boy. Just reviewing a dissertation for one of my students—Professor Elm's doctoral approval, actually. Quite the ambitious thesis. I'm almost done, though."

  "Let me guess," Austin said, smirking, "It's something about Pokémon eggs?"

  "How did you know?" Oak asked, genuinely surprised.

  "Lucky guess," Austin replied with a laugh, shaking his head.

  "Don't go burning through all your luck at once, my boy," Oak chuckled faintly. "But I doubt you called just to check in on me at this late hour. What's on your mind? Need something?"

  "Yeah," Austin said. "I was wondering if you could help me figure out how to teach my Pokémon Iron Tail and Steel Wing."

  Oak's eyebrows lifted slightly, the faintest spark of interest lighting up his weary expression. "Ambitious, I see. You're not aiming for beginner techniques, are you? I like that."

  "I figured they'd give me an edge. But... I'm not sure how to go about it."

  Oak stroked his chin thoughtfully, leaning back in his chair. "Ah, a simple simulation exercise should do the trick."

  "Simulation exercise? What's that supposed to mean?"

  Oak leaned forward again, his tone turning slightly more animated, as if the topic energized him. "Do you know what instinctive moves are?"

  "Yeah, I've read about them... sort of."

  "Good. Then you'll know they're moves that Pokémon unlock in high-stress situations, usually as a natural response to a challenge. Think of it like a human's fight-or-flight reflex," Oak explained. His hands moved animatedly as he spoke, despite his earlier fatigue. "For Pokémon, that response often manifests as an ideal move for the scenario."

  Austin's mind flashed to the moment Spearow unlocked Assurance in his battle against Jimmy. The pieces clicked into place, and his eyes widened slightly in realization. "So... you're saying if I create a scenario where Iron Tail or Steel Wing is the ideal response, my Pokémon will unlock them?"

  "Precisely!" Oak said, snapping his fingers and pointing at Austin through the screen. "Smart lad. You catch on quickly."

  "So... how do I set up these scenarios?"

  "Ah, I'll send you some notes," Oak replied, standing up and stepping out of view for a moment. Austin heard the faint shuffling of papers and the clatter of objects being moved. A minute later, Oak returned, tapping something on his keyboard. "I'll transfer them directly to the teleporter system in the communication room. You should see it activating now."

  Austin glanced to his left as the machine beside the computer began to hum softly. A faint glow signaled its activity, and moments later, two neatly printed pages appeared in the tray. Austin picked them up and scanned the title: Unlocking Moves: Johto Edition.

  "These pages detail specific ways to unlock Steel Wing and Iron Tail," Oak explained, gesturing at the pages through the screen.

  Austin frowned slightly. "Why only a few pages? Is this some kind of teaser?"

  Oak chuckled. "It's all you'll need for now. These pages are sold separately in specialized PokéMarts, but they're not cheap, mind you. Consider this my gift to you."

  "Figures," Austin muttered, flipping through the pages. "Nothing in this world comes easy, does it?"

  Oak chuckled, the corners of his tired eyes crinkling. "Welcome to the life of a trainer, my boy. Everything worth having comes with a price—be it effort, time, or money."

  Austin set the pages aside and leaned forward. "Thanks, Professor. This is really going to help."

  "Nonsense. It's my job to support young trainers like you. Speaking of which, how's life as a trainer treating you so far?"

  Austin hesitated, swirling the remnants of his coffee in his cup. "It's... harder than I expected. But honestly? It's kind of fun. I think I'm starting to enjoy it."

  "That's the spirit," Oak said, his smile genuine. "Any plans for the immediate future?"

  "I'm training for Brock. Waiting on my League ID to arrive too," Austin replied.

  "Good, good. And what about Pokémon? Caught anything new?" Oak asked, leaning forward slightly, his curiosity piqued. "You know, Gary's already caught twenty so far."

  Austin rolled his eyes. "Let me guess—he dumped most of them into the ranch without even trying to bond with them."

  Oak's smile turned slightly sheepish. "Well... you're not entirely wrong."

  "I don't get it," Austin said, shaking his head. "How do you take a Pokémon from its home and not even try to form a connection? It feels... wrong."

  Oak studied the boy for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "You've changed," he said finally, his voice soft.

  "H-How so?"

  "Do you remember the bet you made with Gary? About catching the most Pokémon?"

  Austin nodded slowly.

  "Back then, it was all about numbers for you two. A competition. But now..." Oak's gaze softened. "It seems like you're starting to understand the responsibility that comes with being a trainer. Pokémon aren't just tools for battles. They're companions. Partners. And you're treating them that way."

  "I guess... having a team depending on me kind of forced me to grow up a bit."

  Oak chuckled warmly. "It's a good change. One I think your mother would be proud of."

  Austin's smile faltered slightly, and his gaze shifted to the side. "Yeah... I should probably call her soon."

  "You should," Oak said, his tone encouraging. "She'd love to hear about your adventures. You might not realize it, but just hearing your voice would mean the world to her."

  "I'll try," Austin said, his voice quiet but sincere.

  Oak nodded, his expression satisfied. "Well, I still have a pile of papers waiting for me, so I'll let you go. But remember this—you're doing great, my boy. Keep it up."

  The screen went dark, leaving Austin alone in the quiet room.

  "Call my mom, huh?"

  The suggestion was harmless on the surface, but each word felt like a subtle tug, pulling at a string of guilt buried deep in Austin's chest. Talking to Delia wasn't just difficult—it was strange. It felt like he was slipping into someone else's role, playing the part of a son he wasn't. Every interaction with her left him feeling both exposed and disconnected, a peculiar discomfort that gnawed at the edges of his thoughts.

  He leaned forward, propping his elbows on the desk and resting his face in his hands. His fingers dug into his temples as he let out a slow, heavy sigh.

  I don't want to feel this way.

  The idea of cutting off communication entirely crossed his mind—a clean break, no more awkward calls, no more pretending. But the thought left a sour taste in his mouth. Excommunication wasn't the answer. It felt too cold, too final, and far too selfish for someone like Delia, who had no idea what was truly going on.

  She deserves better.

  He sat up straighter, brushing his hands over his face as though trying to wipe away the uncertainty clinging to him.

  I'll try to be better. I'll try to be a better son than Ash ever was. At the very least, I owe her that.

  The words felt like a quiet promise, one that wasn't entirely selfless. Deep down, Austin knew the truth—he was lonely. In this strange world, where he was expected to lead his Pokémon and forge ahead, he lacked a human connection that grounded him. And maybe, just maybe, he hoped that Delia could fill that role. Not just for her sake, but for his own.

  For the first time since arriving in this world, Austin let himself imagine what it might be like to have someone to lean on. Someone who cared, unconditionally. And for the first time, he felt a flicker of hope that maybe, with time, he could build that.

  He wasn't ready to call Delia yet—not tonight. But soon. Soon enough, he would try.

  Austin sipped his coffee sluggishly as he sat in the park, the sky still cloaked in pre-dawn darkness.

  Around him, Pikachu, Rattata, and Vee were half-asleep, barely aware of the morning chill. Only Spearow was fully awake, perched alertly on a nearby branch.

  They were up at the ungodly hour of 5 AM for a specific reason: to unlock the moves Iron Tail and Steel Wing for his Pokémon. The method, however, was daunting.

  First, the Pokémon had to exhaust all their moves. Then, they had to brace their muscles while the trainer hit their tail or wing with a steel rod several times. After that, they would engage in battle with a weight attached to the tail, which supposedly would help unlock the desired move.

  "Spearow, wake them up, please, so that I don't get an abuse case because of this," Austin mumbled, his eyelids drooping.

  Obliging, Spearow let out a call loud as a rooster's crow, startling the trio awake. "Good," Austin said, his head bobbing as he fought the urge to sleep.

  "Spearow!" the bird chirped again, a bit too enthusiastically.

  "I'm awake, I'm awake," Austin grumbled, rubbing his eyes.

  "Spearow!"

  "Okay, now you're doing this on purpose, mister," Austin said with a pointed look, though Spearow seemed quite proud of its antics.

  Turning to the now slightly annoyed trio, Austin asked, "Who wants to go first?"

  Rattata jumped forward eagerly as Austin pulled out his Pokédex to check her moves: Tackle, Tail Whip, Focus Energy, Quick Attack, and Bite. "Do them one by one until you can't," he instructed.

  Rattata nodded and began her routine, quickly exhausting her moveset.

  This was because Pokémon moves relied on a special type of energy within their bodies called Pokemon Power but abbreviated as PP.

  Austin had facepalmed when he had read that.

  Picking up the metal rod, Austin looked at his exhausted little Rattata.

  He couldn't bring himself to strike her tail. "Pikachu, you be the abusive drunk."

  "Pika?"

  Pikachu was clearly confused by the odd request but complied, slamming the rod against Rattata's purple tail.

  Austin winced as her tail flickered with a glow.

  "Okay, next step," Austin said quickly, his resolve firming. He grabbed a stone and wrapped it around Rattata's tail, his stomach churning slightly. "If it hurts..."

  "Rattata," the purple Pokémon called out, pointing a claw at Pikachu and then motioning through her neck.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  Pikachu nervously giggled.

  "Well, you two have fun."

  Austin sat on the park bench; his posture relaxed yet his mind racing with thoughts for the next few days.

  The cool morning air brushed against his face, carrying the fresh scent of dew-laden grass, providing a calm backdrop to his intense thoughts. He leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees, gazing absently at the battle between the two.

  We have four days to prepare.

  Back on Earth, Austin was a competitive Pokémon battler, having clinched victories in local tournaments. His experience had taught him the importance of adopting a specific battle style. Unlike Ash Ketchum's aggressive and unpredictable approach, Austin favored a more balanced style.

  Now, free from the confines of the games, Austin realized the vast possibilities that lay ahead. He could weave more complex strategies into his battle plans, an aspect he had always wished was more prevalent in the anime—combo moves.

  He vividly remembered Ash's battle against Maylene in Sinnoh, where Buizel had impressively combined Water Pulse and Aqua Jet— a strategy that had left a significant impression on him. The potential of using such combinations excited him, stirring ideas of inventive battle strategies in his mind.

  Lost in thought, Austin was suddenly jolted back to the present as Pikachu zipped over his head, a blur of yellow energy.

  "Pika!"

  Turning his attention to the field, Austin's eyes widened in delight. Rattata stood proudly, her tail glistening with a metallic sheen—she had successfully unlocked Iron Tail.

  Nice, now let's create our first combo move.

  Time had slipped through Austin's grasp like sand through fingers, and before he knew it, the day he had been waiting for had arrived.

  "No pushing."

  In the room with an envelope in hand, the young trainer felt a flurry of movement as Rattata, Pikachu and Eevee vied for a spot on his shoulders, each trying to claim a better view. The playful jostling quickly grew cumbersome, prompting a slight look of annoyance to cross Austin's face. Deciding to bring some order to the chaos, he picked up Pikachu.

  "Okay, let's do it this way."

  The young trainer said as he set his starter gently on the table, giving the little electric mouse a better vantage point and more space to himself.

  "You are going to help me open it."

  Pikachu nodded.

  He then adjusted Rattata and Eevee, positioning them more comfortably on his shoulders, easing the cramped cluster. Soon, the soft flutter of wings followed by the light pressure of Spearow landing on his head.

  "You all need to learn how to give me some personal space," Austin sighed, his words falling on deaf ears as his Pokémon's attention remained fixed on the envelope.

  With a careful slice from Pikachu, the envelope opened to reveal its contents: a card and some papers. The card resembled a driver's license, complete with all the necessary information displayed on the front alongside a yellowish chip. The back of the card was empty, plain and unadorned.

  Austin carefully extracted the ID card, examining it for a moment before placing it into his wallet. He then turned his attention to the papers as he began reading it out loud.

  [Subject: Official Entry to Kanto League Tournaments]

  [Dear Ash Ketchum,

  Congratulations on your eligibility to participate in all Pokémon League-sanctioned events across Kanto. As a recognized trainer, you now hold the privilege of competing in these prestigious tournaments, provided you meet the necessary prerequisites for each event.

  Enclosed with this letter, you will find your official Indigo League Identification Card. This card serves as your primary credential for all Pokémon League events and is recognized as a valid form of government identification within the region. Should your ID card be lost, damaged, or stolen, please visit your nearest Pokémon Center for a replacement. Note that a fee may be applicable and can vary depending on the location.

  Please be aware that participation in the Junior's Division of the Indigo League requires the successful completion of at least eight gym battles. These battles must be recorded and encrypted on your ID card to validate your qualifications.

  We at the Pokémon League are excited to welcome you to this new chapter in your life, filled with adventures and the forging of new friendships. We wish you the best of luck on your journey as a Pokémon trainer.

  Sincerely,

  Blue Oak

  Champion of Kanto]

  Austin's hand froze, the paper trembling slightly as his eyes locked onto the final few words scrawled in bold print.

  Blue Oak? Champion?!

  A cold wave of disbelief rippled through him, his mind scrambling to make sense of the words. Blue Oak. The Blue Oak. The name practically leapt off the page, dripping with the weight of its implications.

  Wait a minute. Blue Oak? Champion of Kanto?

  His grip tightened as he re-read the words, his brain almost refusing to process them. It had to be a mistake, right? Blue Oak. It couldn't be that Blue, the one from the Pokémon Adventures manga.

  Austin smirked, shaking his head. "I've got to be losing it."

  Sure, he'd encountered elements of the manga in this bizarre Pokémon world—Sird from Team Galactic, see-through Pokéballs, and Vee—but this? This was pushing it.

  "Let's think this through logically," he muttered. "I've already run into Gary Oak. Gary, not Blue. So how could Blue Oak exist here too? Unless…"

  The thought lingered, unwanted and absurd, but Austin couldn't help entertaining it. What if Blue Oak was Gary's father?

  He snorted loudly, the sound startling Pikachu.

  And yet, as ridiculous as it seemed, the idea clung to his thoughts like a Stun Spore. Gary had never mentioned his father—at least, not in the anime.

  The absurdity of it made him laugh again, this time more openly. So, what does that make me? If Gary's dad is Blue, does that mean my dad is Red? So what about Alexander Rothsvale?

  Austin sighed, shaking his head. You know what? Forget it. If Blue Oak really is the Champion, I'll deal with that when the time comes. For now…

  "Let's focus on what's ahead. Food, warm-ups, and then winning our first gym badge."

  At his words, a chorus of cheers erupted from his Pokémon.

  [ Pewter City Gym ]

  Austin approached the Pewter Gym, its architecture instantly recognizable from the anime as it was built from stone with a robust steel frame, loomed ahead just as it did in the anime. Bold letters spelling out "Pewter Gym" were mounted on the front. He pushed through the metal doors and was immediately greeted by a secretary who bore a strong resemblance to Brock.

  As he handed over the papers for his gym battle, curiosity piqued.

  "Excuse me, but is a gym reservation a normal thing?"

  "Not for most gyms," the secretary, Sally, responded, her voice calm as she sifted through the documents.

  "So why here?"

  "The thing is, most gyms have a filter system where trainers would fight apprentice trainers of a gym," Sally explained, finishing up with the paperwork. "Pewter doesn't have the funds to sponsor apprenticeships because we have alot of mouths to feed."

  The last part was left unsaid, but Austin managed to piece it together.

  "So, Brock faces every challenger?"

  "Yes." Sally confirmed, a hint of pride in her voice.

  "Wow, he is amazing."

  "I am sure Big brother would love to hear that," Sally smiled as she scratched Pikachu's head.

  "Good luck on your match."

  Austin grinned appreciatively before he pushed open the next set of doors and stepped inside, only to find the lights off. "Who goes there?" a voice called out.

  A spotlight suddenly illuminated the other side of the room, revealing Brock dressed in brown cargo pants, an orange shirt, and a green vest, sitting with his legs crossed.

  "I am here for my gym battle."

  At his declaration, another one of Brock's siblings — Forrest, stepped into the rock-covered arena wearing referee clothing, marking another deviation from the anime. It was clear the gym wasn't just run by Brock; he had the support of multiple siblings.

  "Excuse me, Sir, do you know the rules of the match?" Forrest inquired, his tone official.

  "Run me by them."

  Forrest nodded slightly, a hint of confusion flickering across his face before he composed himself to begin the briefing. "This will be an official gym battle with the gym leader using two grade 1 Pokémon."

  "Grade 1 Pokémon?"

  "Yes, a gym leader has multiple teams based on the number of Gym badges the challenger has. Since this is your first gym battle, Brock will be using Pokémon on the same level as a 1-badge trainer, also known as grade 1." Forrest explained.

  Just like in Pokémon Origins.

  "You are allowed to use up to six Pokémon," Forrest continued. "The rules will be that both trainers can only use up to four moves from a Pokémon, doing more will gain you a penalty. One item per Pokémon use, and any illegal items will result in disqualification or an arrest."

  "There are illegal items?"

  "Yes, many items like Rare Candies are extremely harmful to a Pokémon's health; hence why they are banned."

  Austin nodded slowly, processing the information. If Rare Candies level up your Pokémon in the games, what does it do when levels aren't a thing?

  Forrest continued with the rules, "Any intentional act of violence on trainers or audience will result in disqualification."

  "Like if I have Pikachu attack Brock?"

  "Yes," Forrest replied, then added, "Using illegal strategies will also result in a penalty."

  "Illegal strategies?"

  "Any strategy that can be exploited and harms the basics of battling, like recalling Pokémon the moment a move is made to save it from harm," Forrest detailed.

  "Got it."

  "The matches will last until a Pokémon is knocked out or the trainer forfeits. These are the rules, any questions?"

  "No questions."

  Forrest glanced at Austin, who offered a confident smile.

  "Good, this will be an official 2 vs..." Forrest trailed off.

  "Let's say several Pokémon," Austin stated ambiguously, leaving the exact number open, which was within his rights since there wasn't any official rule requiring him to disclose the number.

  For the first time, Brock felt an unease against a rookie.

  It was unsettling to him that this rookie, who refused to brag about how many Pokémon he caught, could be such an enigma.

  'This guy is different,' Brock thought, his heart rate picking up as he readied himself for the challenge.

  Forrest moved to the referee zone with a clipboard in hand, his body language professional yet visibly more tense.

  "Let's begin the Pewter City Showdown!"

  Brock released his first Pokémon—a brownish-gray boulder Pokémon known as Geodude. Its bulging, rocky eyebrows and trapezoidal eyes with brown pupils gave it a formidable appearance, complemented by muscular arms ending in five-fingered hands. Unlike its portrayal in the anime, this Geodude clutched a smooth, partly crystalline rock in its left hand.

  As the dust settled around the rocky terrain, it swiftly transformed into a swirling sandstorm. "Sand Veil," Austin murmured, his tongue clicking in slight annoyance.

  "Pika," Pikachu voiced, sensing Austin's concern.

  "Don't worry, I have a plan," Austin reassured, leaning down to whisper something to his partner before extending his hand for him to jump off.

  Brock watched this with a frown. Given the electric type's disadvantage, he wondered, Did I overestimate this rookie?

  "Forrest signaled the start of the match. "Hajime!"

  Before Brock could issue a command, Austin shouted. "Jump and Thunder Wave!"

  Brock observed without much worry as the nimble electric type leapt into the air, cheeks sparking. Pikachu released a wave of electricity, but not at Geodude. Instead, it aimed at the ceiling.

  Ceiling? Brock puzzled over the target until he gasped in realization just a moment too late.

  The electricity struck the sprinklers, triggering them to release water throughout the arena. The sandstorm was immediately quelled, and the rocky terrain began to turn muddy under the deluge of water.

  Brock gulped as he caught sight of Austin's smile.

  In a single calculated move, Austin had neutralized the advantages Brock's setup provided—the Smooth Rock that extended the sandstorm, Geodude's evasion boost, and the familiar dry terrain were all rendered useless.

  'I was right, this guy isn't an ordinary trainer,' Brock thought, But how did he know about the sprinklers?

  Brock shouted, "Rock Polish!" and Geodude slammed its fists together, causing the rocky skin across its body to glow white with increased speed.

  "Quick Attack!"

  Pikachu's response was lightning-fast, vanishing the instant it touched a rock, leaving only a yellow blur in its wake.

  "Fire Punch!" Brock countered as Geodude's newly gained speed allowed it to catch up with Pikachu, thrusting an uppercut enveloped in flames towards the electric mouse.

  "Iron Shield!"

  Pikachu reacted with astonishing speed, twisting in mid-air just feet before Geodude's fiery punch could connect. The attack was intercepted by Pikachu's tail, which had taken on a metallic sheen, cushioning the blow and deflecting the force. Pikachu was thrown into the air, but the Pokémon seemed unfazed by the impact, thanks to its Iron Tail used defensively as an 'Iron Shield.'

  "Roll out to dodge!"

  Geodude curled into a ball and rolled forward, dodging just in time as Pikachu struck the ground where the Rock-type had been, mud splashing from the impact.

  "Roll out!"

  "Double team!"

  Geodude spun rapidly towards Pikachu, flinging mud in its wake. Simultaneously, multiple figures of Pikachu ran from the other side; Geodude phased through the illusory clones, but its momentum carried it straight into a rock, sending it airborne.

  "Sword Strike!" Austin's voice rang out clear.

  "Sword Strike?!" Brock echoed, confused by the unfamiliar move. He watched as Pikachu, assuming a stance of a Quick Attack, charged as a blur towards where Geodude would land.

  "Rock Tomb!"

  Due to the move Rock Tomb, rocks flew towards Pikachu, attempting to envelop him. However, Austin had prepared the electric type for this exact scenario. Pikachu leapt, skillfully dodging some of the rocks, and used a swiftly approaching boulder as a platform to launch himself higher.

  How?! Brock thought.

  Pikachu's Quick Attack stopped abruptly, its inertia and momentum carrying into a spin. In a swift, fluid motion, Pikachu used Iron Tail like a sword, slamming it downward with the combined force of its Quick Attack momentum and gravity.

  The impact was tremendous; Geodude slammed into the mud-covered ground, mud splashing everywhere from the force.

  The arena fell silent for a moment before the referee declared Geodude knocked out, the Rock-type Pokémon lying motionless in the muddied pit it had created on impact.

  Brock returned his Geodude as he noticed that Pikachu was inflicted with confusion, its head bobbing slightly from side to side. The flaw of your Sword Strike, the gym leader thought, seeing an opportunity to launch a free attack on Pikachu, since the rules prevented recalling a Pokémon under a status effect without waiting a turn.

  Suddenly, Pikachu pulled out a bitter berry and ate it, immediately shaking off the confusion and sprinting back to his trainer, effectively dousing Brock's hopes for an easy advantage.

  "An amazing performance," Brock conceded.

  "Thanks, I have been training for it for like a week," Austin boasted, his tone deliberately arrogant. He wanted Brock to think he was overconfident; an arrogant opponent might be deemed prone to mistakes against a much more intimidating foe. Plus, Austin couldn't deny that it felt somewhat satisfying to brag a little.

  "Well, then let's see how you'll perform against him," Brock said as he threw out his next Pokéball. In a flash of red, a Pokémon composed of a giant chain of gray boulders that became smaller towards the tail emerged. Its formidable size made it the tallest Rock-type Pokémon, with black eyes and a rounded snout topped by a rocky spine.

  Intimidating was indeed an understatement.

  As the giant Pokémon appeared, Pikachu took a hesitant step back, but Austin remained utterly calm. He knew that unlike in the games where battles could be resolved with a simple button press, here a lot of other factors mattered in a battle.

  If he appeared scared, then his Pokémon's morale would falter.

  With a steady hand, Austin released Spearow into the battlefield.

  Brock raised an eyebrow, curious about the choice of Pokémon and the next move.

  The commands came quickly.

  "Double Team!"

  "Leer!"

  Onix moved like a snake burrowing into sand, disappearing into the muddy terrain with a swift, smooth motion. Suddenly, three Onixes burst from the ground, a common intimidation strategy that Brock employed. Austin, having been forewarned by Jimmy, quickly discerned the real Onix by noting which one actually emerged from a hole in the ground.

  "To your right!" Austin shouted. Spearow spread his wings wide, catching the air displaced by Onix's massive form, and maneuvered like a kite in a gust of wind. The maneuver allowed Spearow to dodge the gigantic rock snake's attack gracefully. Spearow's eyes then glowed red, successfully lowering Onix's defense.

  "Rockslide!"

  Onix roared, its body glowing white momentarily before it summoned multiple rocks outlined in a white glow, hurling them at the flying Pokémon.

  "Aerial Wing!"

  Spearow became engulfed in streaks of white light, charging at the opponent with its wings aglow. The attack, resembling Aerial Ace but with the added strength of Steel Wing, wasn't as fast as the traditional move but potent enough to break through the Rockslide, striking directly on Onix's horn.

  Brock watched as the impact momentarily stunned the flying type. "Bind!" he called out quickly. Onix wrapped its tail around Spearow, squeezing tightly.

  Austin smirked, all according to plan. "Assurance."

  "Onix, let that bird go!" Brock yelled, realizing too late the setup Austin had laid out.

  Spearow's beak, glowing with a crimson black aura, slammed into Onix's tail, causing visible cracks in the rock snake's armor.

  The speed at which Onix released its bind and roared for another Rockslide surprised everyone in the gym. Austin contemplated recalling Spearow, but he saw a defiant look in his Pokémon's eyes, a look of pride that refused to back down.

  "Steel Wing!"

  Almost humorously, Spearow used his wings like a bat, swinging at the rocks flying toward him, using the motion to inch closer despite his wings showing damage from the Bind attack.

  "Fury Attack!" Austin yelled next.

  Spearow descended with his talon aimed at Onix's right eye, missing narrowly but continuing the assault.

  "Spear!" Spearow yelled as he twisted mid-fall, setting his second talon strike, which landed on the lower mouth of Onix as the flying Pokémon fell to the ground. Before Spearow fainted from the ordeal, he cast one last Leer at Onix, further reducing its defense.

  "Your prideful son of a bitch, couldn't just take the easy way out," Austin muttered as he recalled the brave but injured Spearow.

  Onix's segmented body was suddenly enveloped in a greenish glow, a clear sign of healing.

  Austin noticed that the glow was particularly bright around its third segment, indicating the hidden location of the item—Leftovers which allowed Onix to gradually recover health, but the intense brightness of the glow betrayed its exact placement.

  Austin had pieced together that Brock's Onix possessed an ability known as Weak Armor, which decreased its defense but increased its speed with every physical hit it took. Despite the rapid healing from Leftovers, the repeated strikes from Spearow had left Onix defensively weakened yet incredibly fast.

  "I need to get rid of that item."

  "Little lady, I call for your help!" He then sent Rattata onto a rock in the muddy terrain.

  "You are a very unconventional trainer," Brock commented, crossing his arms in a pose that caught Onix's attention—a clear signal between trainer and Pokémon.

  "Let's start off with Sword Strike!"

  Rattata moved with astonishing speed, even outpacing Pikachu, and charged towards the rock snake.

  Onix responded by glowing its horn, creating a sphere of white energy that plummeted to the ground.

  As the energy sphere made contact with the ground, a distinct smell of ozone permeated the air. The sphere unleashed a massive wave of electricity that radiated outwards in an omnidirectional burst. The electrical discharge crackled violently, sending arcs of blue-white energy dancing wildly around the battlefield. The air around it seemed to vibrate with the raw power of the unleashed electricity, causing the hair on the back of Austin's neck to stand on end.

  Hidden Power: Electric, Austin realized, recalling the information he had gleaned from Jimmy.

  The battlefield was soon covered in a dense smoke cloud.

  Suddenly, darting out from the concealing smoke, Rattata appeared, completely unscathed. Brock's jaw dropped in astonishment while Austin couldn't help but smirk; he had trained Rattata to use her iron tail to slam into the ground, effectively creating a lightning rod to counteract Onix's Hidden Power: Electric.

  With swift agility, Rattata climbed up Onix's massive body, deftly snatching an item that resembled a half-eaten apple. She had removed Onix's Leftovers, which was critical for its recovery. As she completed her theft, she spun into a backflip, her tail whipping across Onix's face as she gracefully landed on the ground.

  "Rockslide!"

  "Sword Strike!"

  Rattata executed the move combo perfectly, targeting the weakened spot where Spearow's Assurance had previously hit, causing Onix to scream in pain. The small purple Pokémon she leapt onto Onix's tail. In an instant, she scaled the rock snake's body again.

  "Onix, shake it off!" Brock yelled, but it was too late.

  Rattata opened her mouth, dark type energy swirling around her teeth as she bit down hard into Onix's horn.

  The Pokémon roared in agony and then fell silent as its defenses crumbled.

  The attack was too much, especially directed at the horn that seemed to magnetize each segment of the Pokémon. Onix began to crumble into boulders, the once formidable rock snake now defeated and knocked out.

  "Pika Pi!" Pikachu cheered from the sidelines. Austin placed his hand on his rapidly beating chest, his breath catching with the thrill of victory as he saw Rattata stood proudly on the head of the defeated Onix, her posture one of triumph.

  Austin stood frozen in the center of the arena, the echoes of the battle still lingering in the air like a distant roar. The gym was silent now, save for the hum of the lights above and the faint click of Onix being recalled into its Pokéball. The flash of red light marked the end, but Austin's mind struggled to catch up. For a fleeting moment, it didn't feel real. He had won. They had won.

  The realization struck him like a jolt of electricity, and before he could even move, a purple blur crashed into his legs, followed by a flash of yellow. Rattata and Pikachu tackled him to the ground in an explosion of joy, their triumphant cries filling the quiet gym. Austin's laughter erupted uncontrollably as he fell back onto the cold stone floor, his Pokémon climbing over him, their tiny bodies radiating warmth.

  Staring up at the vaulted ceiling, the gym lights casting a soft glow, Austin let out a deep, shaky breath. The Pewter City badge was theirs. His first gym victory. And as he lay there with Rattata perched proudly on his chest and Pikachu nestled against his side, he couldn't help but grin.

  This wasn't just his victory—it was theirs!

  When he finally stood, gently setting Pikachu and Rattata back on the ground, Austin turned to see Brock and Forrest standing a few feet away. Brock had a calm, approving smile on his face, while Forrest had his arms crossed, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

  "Sorry for the delay," Austin said. "Got a little caught up in the moment."

  "No need to apologize. If you don't celebrate moments like these, what's the point? You earned it."

  Forrest stepped forward, holding a small wooden box. He opened it with a click, revealing the Boulder Badge inside. The badge's metallic surface gleamed faintly in the gym's lighting, its rugged, rocky design simple yet powerful.

  "Thanks," Austin said softly, turning the badge over in his hand. He paused, then added, "Wait, what happens now? I thought the League encrypted my ID or something to keep track of wins."

  "Yeah, that's part of it. The encryption confirms your win, and the League automatically deposits your prize money into your account. Should hit in a day or two."

  Austin raised an eyebrow. "So… the badge is just for show, then?"

  "Not exactly. The Boulder Badge is more than a trophy."

  Austin glanced down at the badge, his curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?"

  Brock's tone shifted, taking on the weight of a teacher explaining an important lesson. "The Boulder Badge isn't just proof of your win—it's a tool. When your Pokémon absorbs its energy, their physical attacks become stronger."

  Austin blinked, his mind struggling to process the idea. "Wait, you're telling me this thing boosts stats? Like… in real life?"

  Forrest snorted in amusement. "Yup. Pretty cool, huh?"

  Brock nodded, folding his arms. "There's a reason Pokémon are capable of things most humans can't even comprehend. Think about it—how do you think a Machoke can lift boulders ten times its size? Or a Pikachu can generate enough electricity to knock out a full-grown Rhydon?"

  Austin tilted his head, considering the question. "PP?"

  Forrest burst out laughing, and even Brock let out a small chuckle.

  "Close, but not quite," Brock said. "PP just measures how many times a Pokémon can use their moves before they're too drained. The real answer is Aura."

  "Aura? Like that thing Lucario's known for?"

  "Exactly," Brock said with a nod. "But Aura isn't just something Lucario can use. It's the life energy that flows through every living being—humans, Pokémon, plants, even the environment. It's what gives Pokémon the incredible strength and abilities they have. And it's also why items like berries or evolutionary stones work—they're infused with natural Aura."

  Austin's eyes widened as the pieces clicked into place. "So… the badge has Aura in it?"

  "That's right," Brock confirmed. "The Boulder Badge carries Aura from the rock and ground types we train with here. When a Pokémon absorbs that energy, it amplifies their physical strength. It's a natural boost—not an artificial one like some items you might find from Silph Co. labs."

  "Wow…" Austin trailed off, turning the badge over in his hand again. It suddenly felt a lot more significant. "That's… amazing."

  "It is," Brock agreed. "But don't rely on it too much. Badges are meant to enhance the bond you already have with your Pokémon, not replace it. Trust, strategy, and teamwork will always matter more than any stat boost."

  Austin nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Got it. Thanks for explaining all that."

  Brock clapped him on the shoulder. "You've got a good head on your shoulders, kid. I think you're going to go far."

  Before Austin could respond, Brock straightened, his expression shifting to something more neutral. "Forrest will take care of the rest of the paperwork. I need to get Onix to the Pokémon Center."

  Austin raised an eyebrow, noting the way Brock seemed a little too eager to leave. "Pokémon Center, huh?"

  Forrest groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Oh, here we go."

  "What?" Austin asked, feigning innocence. "What's the rush, Brock? Nurse Joy waiting for you?"

  Brock froze mid-step, his shoulders stiffening slightly before he turned to give Austin a sheepish grin. "Just making sure my Pokémon are in top condition. That's all."

  "Sure," Forrest muttered under his breath, shaking his head. "Totally not about Nurse Joy. Absolutely not."

  Austin smirked. "It's fine. You're, uh, dedicated to your team's health."

  Brock gave an awkward laugh, muttering something about responsibility as he hurried out the door.

  As soon as he was gone, Forrest leaned against the wall with an exaggerated sigh. "I swear, that guy needs a hobby that isn't… that."

  "What, flirting?"

  Forrest snorted. "If you can even call it that. It's not just about Nurse Joy—it's every woman he meets. He's convinced we need some kind of… I don't know, 'mother figure' in our lives."

  Austin frowned slightly. "Mother figure?"

  Forrest crossed his arms, his expression softening. "Brock's been the head of our family since Mom died. He's the one who keeps everything running—makes sure the younger kids have food, clothes, all of it. But because of that, he's got it in his head that we're missing something. Like we need someone to fill the role Mom left behind."

  Austin was quiet for a moment, the usual humor of Brock's antics taking on a different tone in light of what Forrest was saying. "That's… kind of sad," he said softly.

  "It is," Forrest admitted. "His heart's in the right place, but he doesn't get that we don't need him to fix everything. We just need him. But try telling him that."

  Austin nodded slowly, a new respect for Brock settling in his chest. "I'm sure he'll figure it out eventually."

  Forrest rolled his eyes, though there was a faint smile on his face. "Yeah. Hopefully before someone files a restraining order."

  The sound of a furious shout and the unmistakable thud of a body hitting the floor echoed through the air, shattering the lighthearted moment between Austin and Forrest. Both of their heads snapped toward the noise, and without exchanging a word, they bolted outside.

  What greeted them froze them in their tracks.

  Brock was straddling a man on the ground, his fists coming down like a hammer. Each punch landed with a sickening crack, blood splattering across the floor. The man—an older, more rugged version of Brock—barely raised his arms in defense. His nose was a twisted, bleeding mess, a dark bruise already blooming across his left cheek. His split lip trickled blood down his chin, and his body was still, as if resigned to take the beating.

  "Get up!" Brock roared, his voice filled with raw fury. "You coward! Get up and fight!"

  Sally stood a few feet away, trembling so violently that her tiny frame looked as though it might collapse under the weight of her fear. Tears streaked her pale face as she clutched her Sandshrew tightly to her chest, frozen in place.

  Forrest snapped into action, rushing to his sister and scooping her into his arms. "Sally, it's okay," he whispered, though his voice was shaky. "I'm here. I've got you."

  Austin, heart pounding, rushed forward, grabbing Brock by the shoulders. "Brock! Stop it!" he shouted, yanking hard, trying to pull the gym leader away from the beaten man.

  Pikachu darted to Austin's side, his cheeks sparking dangerously, while Rattata positioned herself between Brock and the man on the ground. Her fur bristled, her tail raised in a threatening arc as she hissed.

  "Brock, he's not fighting back!" Austin pleaded, his grip straining as Brock thrashed against him.

  "He doesn't deserve to fight back!" Brock roared, his voice raw and filled with venom. He tried to lunge forward, his muscles bulging as he resisted Austin's hold. "He deserves this! He deserves worse!"

  "Brock, he's your father!"

  The words hit Brock like a slap. His movements froze for a moment, his breath heaving. "He's not my father," he spat, his voice low and cold, like the edge of a blade. "A father doesn't abandon his kids. A father doesn't walk out when his family needs him the most."

  Austin flinched under the intensity of Brock's words, but he didn't let go. "Brock, this isn't helping. Look at him. Look at Sally!"

  At the mention of Sally, Brock stiffened. His head whipped around to see Forrest cradling their sister, her face buried in his shoulder, her sobs muffled but heart-wrenching. Behind them, a small crowd of Brock's other siblings had gathered, peeking out from behind corners and doorways. Their faces were a mixture of fear and confusion, some of the younger ones clutching each other tightly, others with wide, tear-filled eyes.

  One of the older boys stepped forward cautiously, his voice trembling. "Brock… is that… Dad?"

  Brock's eyes darted between his siblings, his fury momentarily replaced with something that looked like shame—or maybe regret. His lips pressed into a tight line, and his fists clenched at his sides as if he was barely holding himself together.

  "No," he said sharply, his voice cold and clipped. He turned back to the man on the ground, his glare like fire. "This isn't Dad. This is just some… nobody."

  The word hung in the air, bitter and heavy.

  "Brock…" one of the younger girls whimpered, her voice cracking.

  "Enough!" Brock barked, his voice snapping like a whip. His siblings flinched, and he immediately regretted the harshness, but he didn't soften. He couldn't. "All of you, go back to the playground. Now!"

  The children hesitated, their small faces twisted in confusion and fear. When none of them moved, Brock's temper flared again. "I said now!"

  The shout sent them scurrying, some of them crying as they ran back inside or out toward the yard. Forrest hesitated, his arms still around Sally, his jaw tight as he looked at Brock. Finally, he turned and led her back toward the house, casting one last wary glance over his shoulder.

  With the children gone, Brock rounded on Austin. His expression was hard, his jaw tight, but his voice cracked slightly as he spoke. "Get him out of here," he said, his words trembling with restrained rage. "Before I do something I'll regret."

  Austin swallowed hard and nodded. "Okay."

  Brock stepped back, his chest still heaving with heavy breaths, and Austin cautiously approached the man on the ground. Flint—there was no mistaking it now—lay in a crumpled heap, his head bowed. Blood dripped from his nose and lip, staining his shirt. His eyes, though swollen and bruised, stared down at the dirt, hollow and filled with shame.

  "Flint," Austin said quietly, crouching down and offering the man a hand. Flint didn't respond at first, his shoulders slumped in defeat. "Come on," Austin urged, his voice soft but firm. "Let's get you out of here."

  Flint hesitated, then slowly reached out and took Austin's hand. His grip was weak, and he winced as Austin helped him to his feet. He swayed slightly, but Austin steadied him, draping one of Flint's arms over his shoulder.

  As Austin started to lead him away, Flint's voice broke the tense silence. "I deserved it," he muttered, his tone flat, almost emotionless. "Every punch. Every word. I deserved it all."

  Austin didn't respond immediately, glancing back at Brock, who stood rooted in place, his head bowed and his fists still clenched. "Maybe," Austin said quietly, his gaze shifting back to Flint. "But the kids didn't deserve to see it."

  Flint flinched at that, his face twisting briefly with guilt before he let himself be led away.

  As Austin helped Flint out of sight, Brock finally let out a shaky breath, his shoulders slumping as the adrenaline drained from his body. He ran a hand down his face, smearing sweat and dirt across his skin. His legs felt weak, and he sank onto the nearest bench, burying his face in his hands.

  Forrest appeared a moment later, standing a few feet away. "That wasn't exactly the reunion we imagined," he said, his tone even but heavy with unspoken emotion.

  Brock didn't look up. "I don't care," he muttered. "He doesn't get to waltz back in here after all these years and pretend everything's fine."

  "I'm not saying you're wrong," Forrest replied, his voice quieter now. "But yelling at the kids, beating him up in front of everyone… that's not you, Brock."

  Brock sat on the bench, staring at the ground. His hands rested limply on his knees, and his shoulders slumped under a weight no one else could see. He didn't say a word.

  Forrest sat down quietly beside him, not speaking at first. He didn't try to force anything, just let the silence stretch between them, heavy but unbroken. After a while, he reached out and placed a hand on Brock's shoulder. It was a small gesture, but steady.

  "You don't have to carry all of this alone," Forrest said softly, his voice low but firm. "We're here for you. I'm here for you."

  Brock's jaw tightened, but he didn't look up. His hands curled slightly, gripping the fabric of his pants. A single tear rolled down his cheek, hitting the floor below with a faint pat. Then another. And another.

  Forrest didn't say anything else. He just stayed there, his hand never leaving his brother's shoulder.

  Austin handed a cold soda to Flint, who collapsed heavily onto the sidewalk, his shoulders slumped and his bruised face grimacing as he pressed the can against his swollen cheek. For a moment, they sat in silence. The faint hiss of Austin opening his own soda and the quiet fizzing of Pikachu's can were the only sounds. Pikachu sipped contentedly from the straw Austin had rigged up, his ears flicking as he watched the scene unfold.

  Flint didn't answer at first. His hand trembled slightly as he shifted the cold can to his black eye. "For everything I've done… this doesn't even begin to cover it."

  Austin studied Flint for a moment, unsure how to proceed. The man looked older than he probably was, his face lined not just from age but from regret. Blood still trickled faintly from his split lip, and the bruises forming on his face made him seem almost unrecognizable from the proud father Austin had imagined Brock once had.

  "Getting pummeled by your own son isn't exactly a great look," Austin said lightly, hoping to break the tension. But his voice carried more curiosity than humor.

  Flint let out a bitter laugh, a dry, hollow sound. "I earned it," he muttered. "Every punch, every bruise—I earned all of it."

  Austin leaned back against the wall behind him, the cold concrete seeping through his jacket. "Why, though? What could you have done to make Brock that angry?"

  Flint hesitated, staring at the pavement as if it held all the answers he was struggling to find. The silence stretched long enough that Austin thought he wouldn't answer, but finally, the older man exhaled deeply, his breath shaky.

  "It started six years ago," Flint began, his voice heavy with the weight of the past. "Back then, I had it all—a loving family, kids who respected me, and a community that saw me as someone worth admiring. Pewter City was my home, and I was proud of the life I'd built. My wife, Lola, was expecting our tenth child." His voice cracked slightly on the word "tenth."

  Austin blinked, surprised. "Tenth? Jeez, did you think a condom was a Pokémon move?"

  Flint offered a faint, humorless smile but didn't comment. "Around that time, the position of Pewter City Gym Leader opened up. The old leader had retired, and everyone said I'd be perfect for it. I was strong, experienced, and people looked up to me. It felt like my calling. I even promised Brock that I'd become the new leader—told him it was going to change everything for us. He was so excited... proud of me, even." Flint's hands tightened around the soda can, the metal creaking slightly under the pressure.

  Austin stayed quiet, letting him continue.

  "I applied for the position. To be a gym leader, you have to prove yourself—earn 1,000 official battle wins and then pass the League's challenge, which involves battling an Elite Four member or their ace Pokémon. It's no small feat." Flint paused, his jaw tightening. "I wasn't ready. I didn't have the strength or the skill. So, I left."

  "You left?" Austin repeated, confused.

  "I started traveling," Flint clarified. "I told myself it was to train, to get stronger so I could prove myself worthy of the title. But somewhere along the way… I got lost. The training, the battles—they weren't about becoming a better gym leader anymore. They became about me. About the fame. People started recognizing me, cheering my name. And I… I let it consume me."

  Flint's voice grew quieter, tinged with shame. "I stopped calling home as much. I told myself it was temporary, that I'd make it up to them once I became gym leader. But the truth was… I liked being away. I liked the freedom. The attention. It was easier than being a husband. Easier than being a father."

  Austin frowned, the soda in his hand forgotten. "What about your wife? Your family? Did you just… ignore them?"

  "I tried not to think about them," Flint admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But then… the League finally approved my application. I was set to face one of the Elite Four's ace Pokémon in an official match. It was my chance to prove myself. My chance to bring something great back to my family. But…"

  Flint closed his eyes, and Austin could see the pain etched deeply into his face.

  "But what?"

  "Before the match, I got a call," Flint continued, his voice trembling. "Lola was in labor. She'd gone into complications, and the doctors said it wasn't looking good. I should've been there. I should've dropped everything and gone to her. But I didn't."

  Austin's stomach turned as the words sank in.

  Flint's hands trembled as he spoke, his grip tightening on the can until it crumpled slightly. "I told myself the match wouldn't take long. That I could win quickly and still make it in time. But I didn't. By the time I got back to Pewter, it was too late." His voice broke completely, tears streaming down his face. "Lola… my baby girl… they were gone."

  Austin felt a lump rise in his throat. He didn't know what to say. What could he say? He looked down at Pikachu, who had stopped sipping his soda, his ears drooping as if he understood the gravity of the moment.

  Flint wiped at his face with his sleeve, his shoulders shaking. "I abandoned them when they needed me most. I let her die alone because I was too selfish to leave that damn match. And for what? A stupid badge? A title I didn't even want anymore?"

  The weight of Flint's confession hung heavy in the air, the silence between them almost suffocating. Austin finally managed to find his voice.

  "What happened after that?" he asked quietly.

  "Brock came home," Flint said, his voice steadier now but no less pained. "He had just finished his first journey as a trainer. He was so proud, so excited to show me everything he'd learned. And there I was—this broken, useless shell of a man. I didn't have the heart to tell him what I'd done. But he figured it out. He always did. Brock's smart like that." Flint laughed bitterly. "I told him everything one night. I thought it would help, thought it would make me feel less… alone. But all it did was destroy him."

  Austin could picture it: Brock, young and full of admiration for his father, only to have that image shattered in an instant. It made his chest ache just thinking about it.

  "After that, I couldn't face him," Flint said. "I couldn't face any of them. So I ran. I left everything behind and hid like the coward I am."

  "You abandoned them," Austin said, his voice sharper than he intended. He immediately regretted it when he saw the way Flint flinched.

  "I did," Flint admitted. "And I've regretted it every single day since."

  Austin leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "So why come back now?"

  Flint looked at him, his bloodied face weary but determined. "Because you reminded me what it means to be responsible," he said simply. "When you told me to stop hiding, it hit me. If I don't try to fix this now, I never will. I'll spend the rest of my life running."

  Austin studied him for a long moment, trying to gauge his sincerity. Finally, he nodded. "So, what's your plan?"

  Flint exhaled deeply. "Every day, I'll show up. I'll beg Brock and my kids for a chance. I'll work whatever jobs I can find, earn money to help them, even if it's just a little. I'll do whatever it takes to prove to them that I'm not the same man who left."

  "That's… going to take a long time," Austin said. "Brock's not exactly the forgiving type."

  "I know," Flint replied, his voice steady. "But they're worth it. Every second of it."

  Austin nodded slowly. He still wasn't sure how to feel about Flint, but he could respect the man's resolve.

  Before they parted, Flint reached into his bag and pulled out the TM, handing it to Austin. "Take this," he said.

  "What's this for?"

  "Hidden Power," Flint replied. "Think of it as my way of saying thanks. For knocking some sense into me."

  "You don't have to—"

  "I want to," Flint interrupted. "Do me a favor and use it. That way, even if I fail, I'll know I did one thing right."

  Austin hesitated but eventually took the TM, nodding. "I'll put it to good use."

  Flint smiled faintly, his eyes tired but hopeful. As Austin watched him walk away, he couldn't help but feel a small glimmer of hope. Maybe Flint had a long road ahead of him, but at least he was finally walking in the right direction. As Flint disappeared from view, Austin took a sip of his soda, the fizzy drink cool against his throat. A thought bubbled to the surface, unbidden. So… what does this mean for me? Am I really going to go through this journey solo without Brock?

  The store was a small, cozy haven tucked into the corner of Pallet Town's quiet streets, a place Delia Ketchum had frequented for years. It smelled faintly of dust and worn leather, the scent of nostalgia. As she stepped through the door, the old, familiar tinkle of the bell above the frame greeted her. The place felt frozen in time, with rows of VHS tapes neatly arranged on shelves that stretched to the ceiling, each shelf packed with colorful covers and handwritten labels.

  "Delia Ketchum," came a familiar drawl from behind the counter. "Back again already? What, run out of tapes to obsess over?"

  Roger, the store owner, didn't look up from his magazine as he leaned lazily against the counter. His face was lined with faint wrinkles, the kind that came more from laughter than age, and his ever-present smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

  "Don't act so surprised," Delia said, feigning offense as she walked toward the counter. "You knew I'd be back."

  "Yeah, well, I was kind of hoping for a paying customer this time."

  "I will pay," Delia replied with mock indignation. "Just, you know, when the holidays roll around."

  "Sure, you will," Roger said, finally glancing up at her with a raised eyebrow. "The same way you were totally going to pay me back for that special edition Pikachu's Day Off VHS, right?"

  "Hey, that was an emergency," Delia said with a grin. "Ash was sick, and I needed something to cheer him up. Besides, you know I'm good for it."

  "Yeah, yeah. So, what's on the docket this time, Queen of Kanto Cinema?"

  "Queen of Kanto Cinema? I like that. It's way better than the last nickname you gave me—what was it? The VHS Goblin?"

  "That's because it was accurate," Roger deadpanned. "Now, are you gonna browse, or are you just here to talk my ear off?"

  Delia laughed and turned to the stack of new arrivals he had set out on the counter. Her fingers brushed over the titles, her eyes lighting up as she spotted one. "Ooh, Meowth Impossible—I've been waiting for this one. And look, Pidgeot Cage by Steven Sparrows! Didn't this just come out last week?"

  Roger grinned. "Straight from Pokéstar Studios. You're welcome."

  Delia grabbed both tapes, then spotted another title further down the stack. "Oh my goodness, A Staraptor is Born? Don't mind if I do."

  Roger shook his head in mock disapproval as she gathered the tapes. "You know, most people rent one, maybe two tapes at a time. But not Delia Ketchum. Oh no. You don't do things halfway, do you?"

  "What can I say?" Delia said, flashing him a cheeky smile. "I have refined tastes."

  Roger chuckled, scribbling her rentals into his worn ledger. "So, how's your little adventurer doing? Still off chasing fame and glory?"

  "He's doing great. He made it to Pewter City and should have his first Gym badge by now."

  "Not bad for a beginner," Roger said, nodding approvingly. "You planning to send him anything to celebrate?"

  "What do you think would be a good idea?"

  Roger tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Easy. Get him Poké Kart 64."

  Delia raised an eyebrow. "The one where the guy in overalls jumps on Squirtles and throws banana peels?"

  "That's the one," Roger said confidently. "Trust me, he'll love it."

  Delia considered it for a moment, then nodded. "Alright, I'll take it. You got any in stock?"

  "Always," Roger said, ducking behind the counter to grab a copy of the game. "But I gotta warn you—it's highly addictive. Last time someone rented this, I didn't see them for weeks. They might've been sucked into a Poké Kart black hole."

  "Good thing I have self-control," Delia quipped, grabbing the game and adding it to her growing pile.

  Roger raised an eyebrow. "You? Self-control? Didn't you once stay up for 48 hours binging Blastoise Wars?"

  "That was research," Delia said quickly, her cheeks coloring slightly.

  "Uh-huh. Sure it was."

  Delia stuck her tongue out at him and gathered her rentals, heading out the door with a spring in her step. When she arrived back at her small restaurant, she noticed the answering machine blinking on the counter. She hit the playback button, her heart skipping a beat as her son's voice crackled through the speaker.

  "Mom, uh… hey, it's me. I… I just wanted to talk to you about something. Can you call me back? I don't know how to handle this on my own." A pause, then a muffled, "How do you turn this thing off?" before the message cut off.

  Delia's chest tightened. Ash's voice had been uncertain, almost fragile. Without wasting a moment, she dialed the Pokémon Center's number, hoping he was still nearby.

  After a brief wait, the call connected. "Hello?"

  "Sweetie-pie, it's Mama," Delia said, her voice warm and soothing. "What's wrong, my little Pika-poo?"

  "Pika… what?!"

  "It's a new one," Delia replied, grinning to herself. "I'm trying it out. You like it?"

  "Not really," Austin muttered. "Can we stick to 'sweetie' or, you know, Ash?"

  "Oh, alright, my Snorlax Cub," Delia teased, unable to resist.

  Austin groaned.

  "Okay, okay," Delia said. "What's going on, hon? Did something happen?"

  Austin hesitated before launching into the story—Flint's reappearance, Brock's outburst, and the complicated family drama that unfolded in the wake of his Gym victory. He spoke in halting sentences, his voice uncertain, like he was trying to make sense of it all as he went. Delia listened quietly, her heart aching at the weight her son seemed to be carrying.

  When he finally finished, there was a long pause.

  "Baby, that's a lot to deal with," Delia said gently. "What do you think you want to do?"

  "I don't know," Austin admitted. "Part of me thinks I should just leave. It's not my business, right? But another part of me feels like… I don't know, like I should do something. Try to help. I just don't know what's the right thing."

  Delia leaned back in her chair, her brow furrowing in thought. "Ash, you're a kind boy—always have been. But you're also just one person. Flint and Brock… that's their family's stream, their journey. You can't steer it for them."

  "Stream?"

  "Like a river," Delia explained. "Your life is one stream, and theirs is another. Sometimes streams flow together for a while, and sometimes they drift apart. But you can't force them to go where you want them to. That's not your job."

  Austin was quiet for a moment, mulling over her words. "So… you think I should just leave?"

  "I think," Delia said carefully, "that you should ask yourself what you need right now. Do you want to help? Or are you staying because you feel like you have to? There's a difference, my little Jiggly-boy."

  Austin let out a small, exasperated laugh. "Please stop with the nicknames."

  "Never," Delia said, her voice light but her words full of love. "But seriously, sweetheart, it's okay to move on if this feels like too much. It doesn't make you selfish—it makes you human. You're not responsible for fixing everyone's problems."

  Austin exhaled, the tension in his voice easing slightly. "That… actually helps. Thanks."

  "Anytime, my darling Psyduck," Delia said cheerfully. "Now, tell me about your Gym battle. I want to hear every detail."

  As the boy recounted his battle, his voice grew more animated, the earlier weight of the conversation seeming to lift with every detail he shared. Delia listened intently, her smile widening as she imagined her little boy—no, her young man—standing confidently in that arena, facing the challenges of his journey with the determination she had always admired in him.

  Her gaze drifted to the bag of rentals she had brought home from Roger's shop, her eyes landing on the copy of Poké Kart 64. She let out a small, amused sigh as she picked up the box. It was brightly colored, with Pikachu, Jigglypuff, and even a grumpy-looking Gengar racing tiny karts across a checkered track. She tilted the box, letting the light catch the glossy cover.

  "Now, how am I supposed to get this to him?" she wondered aloud. Her brow furrowed in thought. "If he's still in Pewter, I could mail it… but knowing Ash he'll probably leave the second he's done at the Pokémon Center."

  She tapped her chin. "Maybe I could send it to Viridian's Pokémon Center and hope he swings by on his way back? Or... should I just hold onto it until I hear from him again?"

  Then, a more pressing realization hit her, and her expression froze mid-thought.

  "Wait a second…" she muttered, holding the box up and narrowing her eyes at the tiny print on the back. "What's he even going to play this on?"

  Delia's lips slowly curling into a grimace. "Did I just… buy him a game without a console to play it on? Oh no."

  She groaned, pressing her palm to her forehead as the answer became painfully clear. "Damn you, Roger," she muttered under her breath. "You conned me into this, didn't you? You knew I wouldn't think about the console! Ugh!"

  Flopping dramatically onto the couch, Delia clutched the box to her chest, glaring at the ceiling. "What am I supposed to do now, huh? Send him a game console next? What's next, Roger? Do I send him a TV and surround sound, too? A recliner? Maybe a popcorn machine while I'm at it?"

  With a huff, she tossed the game onto the coffee table and grabbed the remote. She popped Meowth Impossible into the VHS player and leaned back with her popcorn. As the movie started, her grumbling continued, though now laced with humor.

  "People think I'm the dramatic one," she muttered, shaking her head as the opening credits rolled. "At least I don't accidentally light my underwear on fire."

  Somewhere in Pewter City, Austin sneezed violently, startling Pikachu, who dropped his half-empty ketchup bottle. Pikachu shot him a glare, and Austin sniffled. "Ugh, I think someone's talking about me."

  Pikachu chirped something that sounded suspiciously like "Yeah, they're probably saying you need to buy me more ketchup."

  The Pokémon Center room was calm, lit by the soft glow of a bedside lamp. Inside, Pikachu, Spearow, Rattata, and Vee gathered around their evening meal, their trainer absent for the moment. The sound of plates being shuffled and occasional squeaks of approval filled the air as they enjoyed their dinner. Spearow, however, wasn't so thrilled. His wings were wrapped in a cast, a stark reminder of his battle injuries, and he glared at it with open disdain.

  "I hate this," Spearow grumbled, his raspy voice echoing his frustration.

  Pikachu rolled his eyes while carefully sprinkling some dehydrated ketchup powder—liberated from their trainer's supplies—onto his food. He licked his lips and replied with a smirk, "You're the one who kept going in the fight, tough guy. Now you're grounded, and not in the flying sense."

  "Only cowards run from a fight."

  "Only idiots forget when to stop," Pikachu countered smoothly.

  Rattata, chewing noisily, decided to chime in. "At least we fought," she said sharply, shooting a pointed glare at Vee, who was quietly nibbling at his food in the corner. Her tone practically dripped with disdain.

  Vee's ears perked up at the comment, his big eyes narrowing as he set down his food. "What are you trying to say?"

  "Oh, don't play dumb. You know exactly what I mean."

  Vee frowned. "I don't. Enlighten me."

  Rattata turned fully toward him, her tail flicking with agitation. "All of us—me, Pikachu, even this featherbrain—train and fight for our human. You? You just sit around and do nothing. Why? What makes you so special?"

  "I…" Vee hesitated, his voice faltering. "I don't decide that. The human hasn't sent me into a battle yet."

  "Maybe because he doesn't trust you," Rattata said with a sneer. "Or maybe you're just a liability."

  "Hey, lay off him," Pikachu interjected. "You're taking this way too far."

  But Rattata wasn't done. "Am I? Why should we carry the weight while he gets to just lounge around and eat like the rest of us? If he's not going to fight, why is he even here?"

  Vee's ears flattened against his head, his breath quickening. "I—I didn't ask for this," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't ask to be here."

  "And yet, here you are," Spearow added gruffly, joining Rattata's side. "You've done nothing but bring trouble to the team. You're not pulling your weight, and you're dragging us down."

  The words hit Vee like a stone. His heart pounded, and a wave of panic washed over him. His small body trembled as he glanced between his teammates, unsure of where he stood anymore. Were they right? Was he just a burden? His breathing grew shallow, his chest tightening with fear.

  "Enough!" Pikachu's voice cut through the tension like a thunderbolt, sharp and commanding. He stepped between Vee and the others, his cheeks sparking faintly. "Back off, both of you. Now."

  Before anyone could say another word, the door creaked open. Austin stepped into the room, his eyebrows furrowed as he took in the scene. The tense atmosphere was palpable, and it didn't take him long to realize something was wrong.

  "What's going on in here?"

  The Pokémon froze, exchanging awkward glances. Pikachu turned to Austin and let out a series of squeaks and gestures, doing his best to explain the situation. Spearow squawked something unintelligible, Rattata huffed and crossed her tiny arms, and Vee remained silent, his gaze fixed on the floor.

  Austin sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Okay," he said after a moment. "Everyone, line up."

  Austin crouched to their level and looked at them seriously. "Alright, I can tell something's going on here. Pikachu, you're the charades master. Walk me through it."

  Pikachu took a deep breath, miming the whole argument with a mix of gestures and occasional squeaks. He pointed at Rattata, mimicked her strutting, and then pretended to snap at Vee. He imitated Vee's frightened shrinking and then turned to Spearow, miming his dismissive flaps and sharp jabs.

  Austin frowned, piecing it together. "So... Rattata and Spearow were giving Vee a hard time for not battling?" He glanced at the culprits, who avoided his gaze. "And Pikachu stepped in to stop it?"

  Pikachu nodded firmly.

  "Alright, Rattata. Apologize to Vee."

  Rattata blinked up at him, her pink nose twitching in disbelief.

  "Don't give me that look," Austin said. "I know being wrong isn't easy to admit, but you crossed the line, and you know it."

  Rattata's defiant stance faltered. She squeaked softly, glancing down at the floor. Her tail flicked toward her bowl of food, and then she pointed at her Pokéball with a quick tap of her paw. She made a sharp motion to Vee, then to the food again, trying to explain herself in the simplest way possible.

  "You're saying that because Vee eats the same food as you but doesn't fight, you don't think it's fair?"

  Rattata gave a firm nod, puffing out her chest slightly as if to double down on her argument.

  Austin crouched down to her level and smiled softly. "First of all, I enjoy making food for all of you. You're my team. I don't care if you're fighting, training, or just sitting around enjoying the sun—you're still my Pokémon. That means you all get to eat. Even you, Spearow," he added, chuckling.

  "But," Austin continued, his tone growing more serious, "I'm the one who decides who fights and who doesn't. Not you. Not Pikachu. Not anyone else. Me." He glanced at Vee, whose ears perked up slightly at the sudden attention. "And there's a reason I haven't sent Vee into any battles yet."

  The room grew quiet, everyone now paying close attention.

  Austin took a deep breath and crouched lower so he was on eye level with Vee. The little Eevee flinched slightly but didn't look away. "Vee," Austin began gently, "to help you, I need to make you evolve."

  Vee's ears flicked nervously at the word, and his paws shuffled against the floor.

  Austin held out his hand, palm up, an unspoken offer of trust. "I know the idea of evolution scares you," he said. "But it's the only way to help you stabilize. I don't want you to hurt anymore. I don't want you to keep thinking your ability is a curse. That's why I haven't pushed you into battles yet. I wanted to give you time to feel safe. Time to trust me."

  Slowly, cautiously, he lifted a trembling paw and placed it on Austin's hand.

  "The thing is," Austin continued, addressing all of them now, "Vee's been through more than any of us can imagine. Those experiments didn't just hurt his body—they messed with his mind, too. He can evolve into three unstable forms, and it's painful for him. My goal is to help him evolve into something stable—like Espeon or Umbreon—so he doesn't have to suffer anymore."

  Pikachu's ears drooped slightly, his earlier frustration with the argument replaced with understanding. Rattata looked down at her paws, her earlier pride now replaced with a sense of shame. Even Spearow glanced away with a slight frown, as though quietly rethinking his earlier judgment.

  "Starting tomorrow, we'll begin training together. I won't push you into battles until you're ready, but I want you to know that I believe in you. You're part of this team, and you're going to be amazing. Do you trust me?"

  Vee hesitated only a moment before nodding, his stance firmer now.

  "Good," Austin said, standing up and turning to Rattata. His expression grew serious again. "And as for you, little lady, I expect better next time. You're strong, and I respect that, but strength doesn't give you the right to put down your teammates. Got it?"

  Rattata squeaked softly, her ears drooping even further. She turned to Vee and mimed a small bow, her squeaks quiet but apologetic. Vee blinked, surprised, but then nodded in acceptance.

  "Good," Austin said, clapping his hands together. "Now, here's the deal. If there's ever a problem, you come to me. We don't fight amongst ourselves. We talk it out. Clear?"

  The Pokémon nodded, each of them looking slightly sheepish but resolute.

  Austin grinned and raised his voice slightly. "Because we are a team."

  The Pokémon exchanged confused glances, unsure of what he wanted them to do.

  Austin repeated, louder this time, "We are a team!"

  Pikachu tilted his head, then let out a confident "Pika!" Rattata followed with a hesitant but growing "Tata!" Spearow grumbled something that vaguely sounded like "Row," and Vee let out a soft but clear "Eve!"

  "That's what I'm talking about!"

  Just as the moment seemed perfect, a muffled voice shouted from the hallway. "Would you shut up in there?!"

  Austin froze, his grin faltering for a moment before he burst into laughter. The Pokémon quickly joined in,

  As the laughter died down, Austin glanced out the window toward the distant hills of Mt. Moon. His smile faded slightly as he thought about what lay ahead. Mt. Moon wasn't just another stop on his journey—it was Team Rocket territory.

  And Austin wasn't looking forward to it.

  The next day, Austin found himself standing in front of the Pewter City Indoor Climbing Center, a sly grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. He had spent the night strategizing and sketching out ways to train his Pokémon that didn't rely on battling alone, and this idea had taken root like a stubborn tree. If his team was going to tackle the treacherous caves of Mt. Moon—and whatever Team Rocket nonsense was lurking ahead—they needed to sharpen more than their moves. They needed agility, coordination, and teamwork.

  And what better way to simulate rocky, uneven terrain than climbing?

  He'd heard about the climbing center in passing from a couple of trainers at the Pokémon Center the other day and made a mental note. Now, standing in front of the glass doors with his team gathered at his feet, he adjusted his cap and took a deep breath as he pushed open the doors, stepping into the cavernous gym.

  The first thing that struck him was how massive the space was. Expansive walls stretched high above him, covered in colorful climbing holds that formed intricate routes. Some looked deceptively simple, the kind you'd find on a playground rock wall, while others seemed downright impossible, with overhangs and tiny nubs that practically sneered at gravity. Skylights bathed the room in natural light, and the air smelled faintly of chalk dust. The occasional sound of climbers scaling walls, the slap of hands against holds, and rustling chalk bags filled the space.

  "Whoa," Austin breathed, glancing around. "This place is insane."

  "Pi...ka..." Pikachu murmured beside him, tilting his head as he gazed up at a climber halfway up a particularly daunting wall. Spearow, with his wing still in a cast, ruffled his feathers irritably, already annoyed at the prospect of being stuck as an observer.

  "Don't look at me like that," Austin teased the bird with a smirk. "I didn't put you in the cast. You're here to supervise."

  Spearow responded with a sharp squawk.

  At the front desk, a young woman with cropped hair and a bright smile greeted him with enthusiasm that was borderline disarming. "Hi! Welcome to Pewter City Indoor Climbing Center. How can I help you today?"

  "I'd like to register for climbing classes," Austin said confidently, leaning an arm on the counter like he'd been planning this for weeks—which, in a way, he had. "I heard there's a weekly fee?"

  "That's right!" she said, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she brought up the registration screen. "It's 1000 Pokédollars per week. Oh, and you'll need a Flying-type Pokémon for safety reasons."

  "Why a Flying-type?" he asked, though he already had a good idea. He figured it would be good to play along and get the details straight.

  The woman gestured toward one of the walls, where an older man—a coach, by the looks of it—was scaling the wall with a Pidgeot hovering nearby. The bird's sharp eyes followed his every move, its wings flaring occasionally to keep close to the climber. "Flying-types act as safety monitors," she explained. "If a climber falls or gets stuck, the Pokémon can assist."

  "Got it," Austin said, glancing at Spearow. "He might not be happy about it, but I've got a Flying-type."

  "Great!" she said brightly. "You're all set, then. Classes start in about an hour. Feel free to check out the facilities and meet the coach if you'd like."

  "Sounds good." He gave her a thumbs-up before signaling to his team, who were already inching toward the climbing walls with wide-eyed curiosity. "Alright, guys, let's scope it out."

  Austin spent the next hour familiarizing himself with the gym. The walls were categorized by difficulty, with the beginner section on the far left and the expert routes—with their insane overhangs—on the right. He watched the climbers, paying close attention to their techniques and the way their Pokémon assisted them. A group of trainers practiced on a smaller wall meant for Pokémon, which had been designed to mimic natural rocky terrain. It was perfect.

  As he made mental notes, the coach from earlier approached him. The man was tall and broad-shouldered, with a rugged but approachable demeanor that instantly put Austin at ease.

  "You must be the new guy," the coach said, extending a hand. "Name's Cole. First time climbing?"

  "Yeah," Austin admitted, shaking his hand. "I'm Austin."

  "Good to meet you, Austin." Cole gave his gear a quick once-over before nodding approvingly. "You're all set. Let's get you started on a beginner route."

  "Sounds good," Austin said, turning to his Pokémon. "Alright, team, watch and learn. I'm going up first."

  Austin's first attempt... did not go as planned.

  He reached for a hold that was clearly out of his range, missed by a mile, and ended up swinging wildly from the rope. Spearow squawked indignantly, flapping his good wing to steady the rope, only to get tangled in the process.

  From the ground, Pikachu and the others watched with varying degrees of concern. Vee's ears flattened against his head, and his tail flicked nervously. Rattata let out a squeaky laugh that only she found funny, while Pikachu crossed his arms, looking equal parts worried and unimpressed.

  "Alright, alright," Austin muttered as he steadied himself. "Let's take it slow this time."

  By his second attempt, Austin was starting to find his rhythm. With Cole's guidance, he learned to rely on his legs more than his arms and to plan his moves instead of scrambling aimlessly. As he climbed higher, he felt his confidence grow, the initial fear fading into focus.

  When he finally reached the top, he let out a triumphant laugh, holding onto the final hold for a moment before letting Cole lower him back down.

  "Nice work," Cole said, clapping him on the back. "You've got potential."

  "Thanks," Austin said, grinning. He turned to his team, whose expressions ranged from excited to relieved. That's when an idea struck him.

  "Hey, Cole, do you let Pokémon climb too? You know, for training?"

  Cole's face lit up. "Absolutely! We've got a whole section for that."

  "What do you guys think? Ready to climb?"

  The Pokémon buzzed with excitement, their enthusiasm practically contagious—except for Spearow, who glared at everyone with a look that could curdle milk, clearly dreading the extra effort this would undoubtedly require.

  The room was quiet now, save for the sound of Austin's slow, steady breaths. After several hours of grueling rock climbing and teamwork exercises with his Pokémon, he barely managed to drag himself to the bed. The moment his body hit the mattress, a deep, exhausted sigh escaped him. The bed felt like heaven—soft and inviting, as though it had been waiting all day just for him. Every muscle in his body ached in that satisfying, post-workout kind of way, like the ache had meaning.

  As he stared up at the ceiling, he muttered, "If this bed could marry me, I'd say yes."

  Across the room, the Pokémon were gathered in their own little huddle. Pikachu was happily munching on an apple he'd snuck from dinner, while Rattata and Vee seemed to be engaged in some kind of playful competition—Austin couldn't quite tell what it was, but it involved darting around the room, dodging imaginary obstacles. Spearow, however, sat off to the side, feathers fluffed up and his cast still wrapped securely around his wing. He looked about as thrilled as a Murkrow stuck in a sunny field.

  Austin turned his head just enough to catch Spearow's glare—the bird's signature mix of judgment and disdain. If looks could talk, this one would be saying: This is all your fault, you human disaster.

  "Yeah, yeah, I know," Austin said, his voice muffled by the pillow. "But hey, you pulled through. I told you it'd be worth it."

  Spearow tilted his head skeptically, but Austin just smirked and reached over to the nightstand. His fingers brushed against the cool surface of the Boulder Badge, and he grabbed it. Holding it up, he studied the badge in the dim light. It gleamed faintly, its rugged, rock-like design a symbol of everything they'd worked for.

  "Here," Austin said, leaning forward and gently placing the badge in front of Spearow. "You earned it."

  The rest of the team immediately perked up, their heads snapping toward the badge like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. Pikachu stopped mid-bite, Rattata froze mid-pounce, and even Vee, who was usually the calmest, looked wide-eyed and curious. They all turned to look at Austin as if to say, Wait, really?

  "Come on," Austin said with a grin. "The grumpy bird deserves it. He worked his tail feathers off, literally."

  Spearow's sharp eyes narrowed, flicking between Austin and the shiny object on the floor. Slowly, cautiously, he hopped forward, his talons clicking softly against the floor. He hesitated for a moment, then reached out with his beak, lightly tapping the badge.

  The reaction was immediate. A soft, grayish aura began to swirl around Spearow, like mist curling through the air. The room seemed to grow just a little quieter, as though holding its breath. The transformation was subtle but undeniable. Spearow's feathers smoothed out, his stance grew more upright and confident, and his eyes gleamed with a sharp, vibrant energy. He let out a low caw, testing the newfound strength coursing through him.

  The other Pokémon stared in awe. But then, as the excitement settled, Austin caught the flicker of disappointment in their expressions. Pikachu scratched behind one ear awkwardly, Rattata's tail flicked with a faint pout, and Vee's ears drooped ever so slightly.

  Austin sighed, sitting up fully now. "Alright, alright, don't look at me like that. You think I forgot about you guys?" He reached into his bag and pulled out the TM cube Flint had given him. "How about we try out some new moves, huh?"

  That was all it took. Pikachu and Rattata practically bounced in excitement, and even Vee's ears perked back up. Spearow, still basking in his aura upgrade, gave them a smug little side-eye as if to say, Good luck topping that.

  Austin recalled each Pokémon into their Pokéballs, one by one, and placed the capsules into the TM cube. The device hummed softly, a gentle vibration running through his hands as it activated. A faint glow filled the room, casting dancing shadows on the walls.

  He leaned back, watching in fascination. "Man, TMs are wild," he muttered to himself. He'd always thought they were cool in the games, but seeing them work in real life was something else. It was like the device was transferring a piece of knowledge—an actual, living memory of the move—directly into the Pokémon. The process reminded him of downloading software, only way more sci-fi.

  When the cube finally went quiet, Austin opened each Pokéball, releasing his team back into the room. They blinked at him expectantly, eager to see what they'd gained.

  Austin grabbed his Pokédex to check. "Alright, let's see what we've got."

  He scanned Rattata first. "Hidden Power: Dark," he read aloud. Rattata grinned, her sharp teeth glinting as if she already had ideas for how to use it. "Nice," Austin said with a nod.

  Next was Pikachu. "Hidden Power: Grass. Huh. That'll give us some coverage for those pesky Rock-types, buddy." Pikachu puffed out his chest proudly.

  Finally, Austin turned to Vee. He paused. "Hidden Power: Normal," he said, frowning slightly. That was weird. Hidden Power: Normal wasn't possible in the games. Something didn't add up.

  He decided to experiment. Vee into Flareon, then checked the pokedex. To his surprise, the move shifted—now it was Hidden Power: Fire. His mind raced. He had to test it further. He watched Vee become a Vaporeon, and sure enough, Hidden Power changed again—this time to Hidden Power: Water. Then, it became Hidden Power: Electric when Vee evolved into Jolteon.

  What the hell? Hidden Power was adapting to each evolution. This wasn't how it worked in the games, and Austin's mind started spinning with theories. Could it be linked to the elemental affinity of each Eeveelution? Was there something about how the move interacted with the transformation process?

  He was just starting to piece together some thoughts when his stomach growled, loud enough to break his concentration. It was almost comical. Here he was, uncovering something that could be a huge breakthrough, and his body was reminding him of more pressing matters.

  "Let's eat fast so we can eat again!" he said to no one in particular, a grin spreading across his face.

  Food first, theories later.

  For two days, Austin had been preparing, but as he sat alone in the cafeteria, poking at his cold plate of eggs and toast, he couldn't ignore the pit of anxiety in his stomach. His fork hovered aimlessly over the plate, stabbing at the same piece of toast over and over. The faint hum of the radio played in the background, the usual morning news filling the air with talk of weather, politics, and random city events. His ears pricked at every mention of Mt. Moon, though.

  He was waiting—hoping—for some news. Any news about Team Rocket.

  It wasn't just paranoia; it was a pattern. In the anime, in the games, Mt. Moon was where Team Rocket had made their first big move. It wasn't a question of if they'd show up, but when. The thought of running into them made his chest tighten. If something went wrong—if Team Rocket came after him—what would happen to Pikachu? To Vee? To the rest of his team?

  He clenched his fist under the table. Just thinking about it made his gut churn.

  Beside him, a map of the area lay open, its edges creased and worn from constant folding and unfolding. His finger traced the mountain range's winding paths for the hundredth time. Mt. Moon wasn't just a mountain—it was a sprawling network of caves and tunnels that cut through the rocky terrain, offering a shortcut between Pewter City and Cerulean City. The alternative? Trekking two weeks over harsh mountain paths. For most trainers, the caves were the obvious choice.

  But Austin wasn't most trainers.

  He had thought about skipping Mt. Moon altogether, taking the longer, safer route. But every time the idea crossed his mind, he imagined Team Rocket ambushing him on the mountain trail instead, and his grip on the fork tightened until it bent under the pressure. He'd prepped for this. He'd battled hard to make his team stronger. He'd trained himself to climb. He'd cooked enough meals to last them two weeks, packed carefully, planned meticulously. And yet, no amount of preparation erased the doubt gnawing at him.

  He glanced at the map again, then at the clock on the wall. It was time to execute Plan A.

  Plan A was simple: call in a false report to the Pokémon Rangers. Lure them to Mt. Moon under the pretense of an emergency, and let them deal with any Team Rocket presence before he even got there. It was their job, right? Protecting civilians? Handling criminals? This was the smart move—safer, cleaner.

  But even with the plan ready, Austin couldn't shake the weight of unease pressing down on him as he approached the phone booth. It was tucked away at the edge of a small park, its faded blue paint chipped and rusted in places. The glass was scratched and fogged with age, making the inside feel cramped and oddly claustrophobic. As he stepped inside, he adjusted the mask on his face—a simple precaution to keep himself anonymous—and took a deep breath.

  This had to work.

  His hand shook slightly as he dialed the number for the Pewter City Pokémon Rangers. The line clicked, and a pleasant but professional voice answered.

  "Pewter City Ranger Station, how can we help you?"

  Austin pinched his nose to alter his voice, adding a faint tremble of panic to sell the story. "H-hello? Is this the rangers? Please, I need help!"

  "Sir, are you okay? What happened?" The operator's voice immediately shifted to concern.

  "I—I was hiking near Mt. Moon when these Pokémon thieves attacked me! They—they're crazy! I barely got away!" He let his voice shake, adding a rasp to make it sound like he'd been running.

  "Pokémon thieves? Sir, when did this happen?"

  "An hour ago," he lied, gripping the receiver tightly. "I—I just made it to safety on my Rapidash. They—they had these uniforms with a big red 'R' on them." He was laying it on thick, but it had to be convincing.

  There was a pause on the other end, and for a moment, Austin thought the operator believed him. But then her tone changed, growing sharper. "Sir, are you sure about this?"

  "Yes!" he insisted, his voice rising slightly. "They're still there! I swear!"

  "Sir," the operator interrupted, her voice firm. "We've had a patrol stationed at Mt. Moon for the past week. They check in every hour. Either you're mistaken, or you're playing a very dangerous prank."

  Austin's stomach dropped. "I—I'm not—"

  But the line cut off before he could say anything else.

  He stared at the phone in stunned silence, his heart hammering. A patrol? Every hour? That wasn't what he'd expected. His whole plan relied on Team Rocket being unchecked at Mt. Moon, but if the rangers were actively monitoring the area...

  Am I wrong? he thought, his mind racing. Are they not there? Or are they hiding from the rangers entirely?

  Stepping out of the booth, the morning air felt cool against his skin, but it did nothing to calm the whirlwind of thoughts in his head. What now?

  He paced a few steps, staring down at the sidewalk. Maybe he'd been paranoid this whole time. Maybe Team Rocket wasn't even at Mt. Moon. But the idea of traveling through the tunnels, even with the rangers' presence, still left him uneasy. What if they weren't enough? What if they missed something?

  He paused, glancing back at his map. Should he stick to the original plan and take the long, safer route around the mountain? It would cost time, but it would keep him away from the threat. Or should he trust the rangers, push through the caves, and hope for the best?

  His gut twisted with indecision. For all the preparation he'd done, all the scenarios he'd planned for, he hadn't anticipated this.

  Taking a deep breath, Austin squared his shoulders. Whatever choice he made, it had to be his own. No one else was going to protect him or his team. If he wanted to make it through this journey, he'd have to trust himself—and his Pokémon.

  For now, though, he needed to keep moving. One way or another, Mt. Moon awaited.