Professor Samuel Oak sat at his desk, the light of the lamp casting a soft glow across the room. His fingers hovered over the keyboard as he sighed, staring at the flood of unread emails piling up like a mountain he'd rather avoid climbing. It had been a long day—no, a long week—but he wasn't complaining. He couldn't. Not when he had seen how far Gary had come.

  The psychologist's words from earlier that day played on a loop in his mind, offering the kind of reassurance he hadn't known he needed. Decent progress. The words weren't grand or groundbreaking, but after what Gary and his Pokémon had endured at Mt. Moon, decent felt like a small miracle.

  Oak leaned back in his chair, cracking his knuckles before rubbing at his tired eyes. His lips curled into a soft, involuntary smile—the kind only a proud grandparent could wear. Gary had fought through nightmares, emotional breakdowns, and moments when the weight of what happened nearly crushed him. But here they were, making strides. One step at a time. Oak had been there every step of the way—not just as a guiding hand, but as a quiet observer, giving Gary the space to grow on his own terms.

  In the beginning, things had been harder. Gary had walked into therapy sessions like they were battles, arms crossed, jaw set, as though determined to beat the process into submission. Oak had seen the cracks early, though, in the way his grandson's fingers trembled when he thought no one was looking or how his voice would falter when he spoke about his Pokémon.

  They had all been through hell together—Gary, his Wartortle, and his Nidorina—and Oak had made sure they healed together, too. Most of their days were spent outside, training in the large field behind the lab. It wasn't about honing strategies or preparing for battles. It was about rebuilding trust—between Gary and his Pokémon and within himself.

  He watched as Nidorina, once so aggressive and defensive, began to soften, often nudging Gary's arm after a successful training session. Wartortle, who had withdrawn into himself after Mt. Moon, had started splashing around playfully again, even spraying Gary with water when the mood struck. Gary, in turn, had learned to treat them like partners, not just tools.

  It was a lesson his father, Blue, had learned the hard way.

  Oak leaned back in his chair, thinking about those early years when Blue had been cold and obsessed with winning, seeing Pokémon as mere stepping stones toward becoming the Champion. It had taken his rivalry with Red to open his eyes and teach him that there was more to life than winning battles.

  Gary had learned that lesson too, but not from a rival.

  Mt. Moon had been enough of a wake-up call.

  "I wish you could see him now," Oak muttered, glancing at the picture frame sitting on his desk. It was an old photo of Blue back in his glory days as Champion, his trademark smirk frozen in time. Oak's gaze lingered on it, conflicted.

  "Your son has grown, Blue. I just hope you'll be around to see it one day."

  He exhaled deeply, shaking off the thought before it could weigh him down. Turning back to the computer, he began scrolling through his sea of unread emails—research proposals, invitations to conferences, requests for interviews. It was endless.

  One message, however, caught his attention: Urgent: Pewter City Hospital Report.

  His breath hitched for a moment, but when he opened the email, relief washed over him. It wasn't bad news, just a follow-up on Gary's progress and his Pokémon's medical checkups. The words were clinical, detached, but the underlying message filled him with warmth. Things were getting better.

  Another notification appeared at the corner of the screen: Blue Oak: Status Update.

  Oak's fingers froze. For a moment, he debated whether to open it. Did he really want to know where his son was now? Was he still out there, chasing Red and his endless quest for closure?

  He clicked it anyway.

  No new leads. Investigation ongoing.

  Oak shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

  Sometimes, the old man wondered if raising Gary had been as much about making up for Blue's absence as it had been about giving his grandson the stability he deserved.

  A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts.

  "Come in," he called, clearing his throat and straightening his posture.

  Gary stepped inside, wearing his usual red jacket but looking far less polished than usual. His hair was messy, dark circles clung beneath his eyes, but there was something else in his expression—a spark of determination that hadn't been there when he first returned from Mt. Moon.

  "You're still up?"

  "Old habits," Oak said with a chuckle, gesturing for him to sit. "You've been keeping me busy, you know."

  "I figured. Did the psychologist say anything good today?"

  "They said you're making decent progress," Oak replied. "You've come a long way, Gary. Don't underestimate that."

  "...I still get the nightmares."

  "I know." Oak resisted the urge to reach out and pull him into a hug. Gary wasn't the type to appreciate gestures like that, at least not openly. They'll take time to fade. But you've been facing them head-on, and that's more than most people can say.

  "I think Nidorina knows when I'm having them. She always sleeps right next to me now."

  Oak smiled. "She's looking out for you, just like you've always looked out for her. That bond doesn't break easily."

  Gary hesitated, his voice softening. "Gramps… do you think Dad's ever coming back?"

  The question hit Oak like a weight to the chest, but he didn't let it show. Instead, he offered a warm, reassuring smile. "I don't know, Gary. But I do know that you're not alone. You have Daisy, your friends, and you'll always have me."

  "I know. I just… needed to hear it."

  Oak stood and placed a hand on Gary's shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. "You're already stronger than you think. The fact that you're here, asking these questions, proves that."

  "Thanks, Gramps. I'm gonna check on Wartortle before I head to bed."

  "Good idea. He's probably waiting for you."

  Gary lingered by the door for a moment, then turned back. "I'm glad you've been here for me. I don't say it much, but I mean it."

  "You don't have to say it, Gary. I know."

  After he left, Oak sat back down and stared at the open email about Blue.

  Maybe one day, his son would stop running long enough to see the remarkable young man Gary had become.

  But until then, Oak would be here, making sure Gary had someone to lean on.

  [ An Hour Later ]

  Professor Oak let out a tired sigh as he scrolled through the seemingly endless list of unread emails. Most were mundane—requests for research collaborations, updates on grants, reports from field researchers cataloging the biodiversity of various regions. As he opened the most urgent ones, he jotted down a few notes for follow-up.

  There was a proposal about cataloging the behavioral differences between regional Tauros variants, a promising field study from Johto on the nocturnal migration patterns of Hoothoot, and an inquiry from the Pokémon League asking him to moderate their next conference panel on Genetic Anomalies in Evolved Pokémon.

  He considered that last one before muttering to himself, "They're probably still arguing over the Eeveelution genetic pathways." He sighed, knowing this topic was even more prevalent now with the news of the mysterious evolving—and devolving—Eevee of Mt. Moon.

  His cursor hovered over the next email, and his breath hitched slightly when he saw the subject line:

  "Ash Ketchum has made a scientific breakthrough."

  He stared at the screen, rubbing his eyes just to make sure he wasn't imagining things. Ash? Scientific breakthrough? Was this a prank? His assistant, Jeremy, wasn't one for jokes, but the subject line was absurd enough to make Oak question whether someone had tampered with his inbox.

  With a sigh, he clicked on the email, his curiosity outweighing his skepticism.

  Subject: Ash Ketchum's Scientific Discovery

  From: Jeremy Ross, Assistant Researcher

  Time: 6:32 AM

  Dear Professor Oak,

  I know you're busy, but you'll want to see this. Early this morning, I received an email from Ash Ketchum—yes, that Ash Ketchum—detailing a hypothesis he's been working on regarding Magikarp and whether it can learn Dragon Rage before evolving into Gyarados. At first, I thought this was a fluke, but after reading through his process and reviewing the evidence he's provided, I believe Ash may have stumbled onto something truly groundbreaking.

  He's included a voice recording explaining his hypothesis and a video of his experiment. I've attached everything below. This could change our understanding of how evolutionary biology and move inheritance work in Pokémon.

  Best,

  Jeremy Ross

  Oak sat back in his chair, tapping his fingers against the wooden armrest. He couldn't help but chuckle.

  "Ash, what are you up to now?"

  The boy had always been brimming with energy and intuition, but scientific breakthroughs weren't exactly his forte—or so Oak had thought. Still, if his years as a researcher had taught him anything, it was that breakthroughs could come from the most unexpected places.

  Science wasn't about who delivered the information—it was about whether the evidence held up.

  With a deep breath, he clicked on the attached voice recording.

  Ash's voice crackled to life, warm and familiar, with that unmistakable enthusiasm he carried everywhere.

  "Hello there, Professor Oak!"

  Oak chuckled softly. Ash's greeting was an endearing attempt to mimic his own, though the boy sounded more like a kid on the verge of revealing a big secret.

  "I know you might be thinking, 'What's this boy doing pretending to be a scientist?' But trust me, I think I've found something important, and I wanted to share it with you first."

  Oak paused the recording, leaning back in his chair and shaking his head in disbelief.

  "Of all the people," he murmured with a smile, "Ash Ketchum, thinking like a scientist."

  He hadn't expected this, but he reminded himself that science demanded an open mind. And if Ash had taken the time to form a hypothesis and conduct experiments, Oak owed him the courtesy of hearing him out.

  He resumed the recording.

  "So, I bought a book on the scientific method to help me organize my ideas properly. I figured that if I was going to do this, I needed to do it right."

  Oak blinked, genuinely surprised.

  "He's using the scientific method? Well, I'll be."

  He scribbled a quick note in his notepad: Check Ash's methodology carefully—he's maturing.

  "First, here's my hypothesis: Pokémon that evolve into stronger forms with different move sets may have latent biological structures—like vestigial organs—that could allow them to access certain moves before evolving if properly stimulated. In this case, can Magikarp, which evolves into Gyarados, learn Dragon Rage before evolving?"

  Oak nodded slowly. Ash had identified a specific question, framed it within a biological context, and tied it to move inheritance mechanics. That was more thought-out than most of the proposals Oak received from graduate students.

  "I started by reviewing what we already know. Gyarados can naturally learn Dragon Rage because of an organ called a 'Dragon Core,' located in its whiskers. I found references to this in an old 1940s study from Sinnoh that described Dragon Cores as energy-conducting structures capable of channeling life energy. The study mentioned that in many species, these organs remain dormant or vestigial until triggered by evolution."

  Oak raised a brow. He's cross-referencing historical research. Impressive.

  "So, I thought, if Magikarp has those same vestigial structures in its whiskers, could they be activated early using external stimuli—like a Technical Machine?"

  Ash's voice grew more excited as he continued.

  "I used a TM for Dragon Rage and applied it to a Magikarp. The idea was simple: if the TM could 'awaken' the dormant Dragon Core, Magikarp might be able to produce the move without needing to evolve."

  Oak paused the recording again, his mind racing. If Ash was right, this could redefine how researchers understood TM compatibility and the biological changes triggered by evolution.

  Ash's thinking wasn't just intuitive—it was disruptive.

  Oak hit play again, leaning in closer.

  "I conducted the experiment at a pool with Misty's help. Here's what happened."

  Oak clicked on the attached video file. The camera quality wasn't great—it was clearly recorded using a Pokédex—but he could make out Ash standing by the pool, Misty beside him with an expectant expression.

  "Magikarp, use Dragon Rage!" Misty commanded.

  The little fish Pokémon's eyes narrowed with surprising determination. It opened its mouth, and, to Oak's astonishment, a red-orange fireball formed and shot across the surface of the water, creating a steaming splash.

  Ash turned to the camera, grinning ear to ear. "Well, I think my experiment is a success. Magikarp can indeed learn Dragon Rage. So, Professor, call me when you're free. I want to talk to you about all the stuff I've discovered."

  The video ended, leaving Oak sitting there in stunned silence. He hadn't expected this—not from Ash, not from a Magikarp—but here it was, staring him in the face. A boy who once charged headfirst into everything was now approaching problems with thought, research, and experimentation.

  Professor Oak sat there in stunned silence, the video still playing in his mind even after the screen had gone dark. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, trembling slightly. He wasn't sure if it was excitement or disbelief—or maybe both. His heart was racing so fast he could feel it pounding in his throat, a sensation he hadn't experienced in years.

  The boy had done it. Not only had Ash Ketchum presented a theory that was sound enough to raise eyebrows, but he had also conducted an experiment that proved his idea.

  He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly to steady himself. The implications of this discovery weren't just exciting—they were monumental. His mind raced through the possibilities, the questions tumbling over each other like dominoes.

  Why had the TM worked on Magikarp at all? The standard understanding was that TMs worked by transferring move data—memories, if you will—into a Pokémon's brain or nervous system. But Magikarp wasn't supposed to have the mental or physical structures necessary to interpret that data, at least not before evolution.

  Was the TM stimulating the vestigial Dragon Core in the Magikarp's whiskers? That could explain why the organ "activated" early, but the question remained: What exactly was the mechanism behind it? Did the TM bypass normal neurological pathways and directly interact with the organ, or did it awaken dormant genetic sequences tied to evolution?

  And if this was tied to genetics, then what else could be unlocked in other Pokémon?

  Oak leaned forward, jotting down notes as fast as his hand could move. There were so many angles to consider, so many variables to test.

  The scientific ramifications were enormous. But beyond the world of labs and research papers, this discovery could change society's perception of Magikarp entirely.

  He leaned back in his chair, letting the weight of that realization sink in.

  Magikarp had long been seen as the joke of the Pokémon world—weak, helpless, and frustrating to train until it finally evolved into a Gyarados. Trainers often abandoned them out of impatience or frustration, and those who did persist were rewarded with a Gyarados that, more often than not, struggled to control its destructive instincts.

  But now?

  If Magikarp could use Dragon Rage before evolving, it would be seen as a viable battler in its own right, not just a stepping stone to a stronger form. And if trainers could bond with Magikarp early on—before evolution—maybe they could help prevent the violent, uncontrollable outbursts Gyarados were notorious for.

  Fewer abandoned Magikarp meant fewer rampaging Gyarados in the wild.

  "This discovery could change everything," Oak whispered to himself. "The battle landscape, the way trainers approach evolution, even how society treats certain Pokémon."

  He allowed himself to imagine the chaos this revelation would cause. Gym leaders, tournament organizers, and even the Pokémon League itself would need to reconsider their strategies. Gyarados could become a far more common sight in competitive battles, shaking up the meta entirely. Trainers who once scoffed at Magikarp might now flock to catch them. Specialized Dragon Rage training programs could emerge, and breeders would start refining Magikarp lines to maximize their battle potential.

  He let out a breath, shaking his head. "One step at a time, Samuel," he muttered. "First, we need to study this more thoroughly. We'll need controlled experiments, peer-reviewed studies, and proper documentation before we release anything to the public."

  His gaze drifted back to the computer screen, and he couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all.

  A ten-year-old had just rocked the foundations of Pokémon biology.

  Ash hadn't even been a trainer for half a year, and here he was, making waves that could ripple through the scientific community for decades.

  "I don't know if I should call you a prodigy or the luckiest trainer alive," Oak said, shaking his head in disbelief. "Maybe both."

  The laugh that escaped him was loud and sudden, filling the quiet of the study.

  Fairy-type Pokémon in Kanto, Dragon Rage Magikarp, and now this? Ash was a walking storm of chaos and brilliance, constantly defying expectations in the most spectacular ways.

  He glanced at the clock. It was late—too late to call him tonight—but tomorrow, he'd make sure to contact him first thing.

  There was too much to discuss.

  They would need to plan the next phase of research, conduct follow-up experiments, and collaborate with specialists in the field. Jeremy would help coordinate with the lab, and Oak would reach out to a few trusted colleagues in Sinnoh and Unova.

  The last thing they wanted was for this discovery to be dismissed as a fluke or, worse, exploited before they fully understood its implications.

  He could already imagine the debates at conferences, the heated discussions over whether this discovery challenged established evolutionary theory or merely expanded upon it. There would be skeptics, of course—there always were—but the evidence was undeniable.

  A storm was coming, one that would shake the world of Pokémon research to its core.

  And at the eye of that storm was Ash Ketchum, a boy with more heart, intuition, and luck than any scientist Oak had ever known.

  "Buckle up, boy," he said softly, closing his notebook. "This is only the beginning."

  It was still dark when Austin padded quietly across the floor, careful not to wake anyone else. The early morning chill clung to the air, but he didn't mind—he was used to waking up before sunrise. His routine had become second nature by now. He made sure all his Pokémon were fed and hydrated, checked on their health, brushed Eevee's fur (Vee was surprisingly picky about his appearance), cleaned out their bedding areas, and even spent a few minutes examining their Poké Balls to make sure the internal mechanisms were working smoothly. Responsible pet owners—or trainers, in this case—had a lot to do, and Austin wasn't about to slack off when his team was relying on him.

  As he finished setting down Pikachu's breakfast, his Pokédex beeped, reminding him to check his emails. He blinked, yawning, and navigated to his inbox. There it was—an email from Professor Oak, asking for a call. Apparently, the professor had something important to discuss. Austin figured it had to do with the Dragon Rage Magikarp experiment, and his stomach did a little flip of excitement. He grabbed the phone off the counter and dialed.

  The screen lit up, and Professor Oak's face appeared. He looked… exhausted. Dark circles clung under his eyes, and his hair was messier than usual, as if he'd been running his hands through it all night. Austin bit his lip to keep from chuckling.

  The wall phone was a strange fusion of old and new—a retro '90s-style handset mounted on the wall, but fully integrated with a sleek computer system that displayed video calls on a built-in monitor. The mix of outdated design and cutting-edge tech was something Austin knew he'd never get used to in this world.

  "Ah, my boy," Oak greeted, sounding surprisingly chipper for someone who hadn't seen sleep in what looked like days. "You woke up early."

  "Yeah," Austin said. "There's always a lot to do in the mornings. But if you love something, you've got to put in the effort, right?"

  "It's good to hear you talk like this," Oak replied. "Honestly, the way you've grown… it's remarkable. You've changed so much that sometimes, I hardly recognize the boy I first met."

  Austin smiled faintly, glancing down for a moment. "I guess my Pokémon have done more than just travel with me. They've challenged me, humbled me, and somehow, they've made me a better man."

  "That's what true partners do," Oak said warmly. "They shape us into the people we're meant to be."

  "Well, enough about me," Austin said, shifting the focus. "You don't exactly look like you've been getting much rest. Everything okay on your end?"

  Oak chuckled, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "Oh, I'm fine. Just overwhelmed with all the work you've given me. You've been keeping me busy, young man."

  "Me? What did I do?"

  "Well," Oak said, "your video of the Dragon Rage Magikarp set off a chain reaction. I've been going through research papers all night, contacting esteemed colleagues, and reviewing past studies on vestigial organs in pre-evolution Pokémon. Let me tell you, it's been exhilarating—but exhausting."

  Austin laughed, holding back the urge to brag. If only the professor knew the insane stuff I'd already been through in this world… "Sorry about that."

  "Nothing to be sorry for, my boy," Oak said. "If anything, I should be thanking you. I haven't been this excited about research in years. If I were ten years younger, I'd be diving headfirst into this, dedicating every waking hour to uncovering the full implications of your discovery."

  "Wow, is it really that big of a deal?"

  "Of course it is," Oak replied, his eyes gleaming despite the sleep deprivation. "I won't bore you with the details just yet, but trust me—you should be proud of what you've done here. This experiment has opened doors we didn't even know existed."

  "Thanks, Professor. So, what's next? Are we writing a research paper or something?"

  "Well," Oak said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, "that depends. Has the Magikarp evolved yet?"

  "Not yet," Austin admitted, "but I'm planning to evolve it by the end of this week. We've been training pretty hard."

  "Excellent. In that case, I'm coming to your location tomorrow," Oak said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

  "Wait—why do you need to come here?"

  Oak smiled knowingly. "My team and I are going to observe the Magikarp firsthand. We'll take detailed notes and measurements before, during, and after its evolution. We'll compare this Dragon Rage-capable Magikarp to a control Magikarp without the TM influence to identify any differences in muscle growth, neurological activity, and organ development. We need as much data as possible before we can even think about writing the paper."

  Austin nodded, trying to take it all in. "So, you're basically running a full-on scientific investigation?"

  "Precisely," Oak said. "Based on our findings, we'll write a research paper that will be peer-reviewed and, hopefully, published in The International Journal of Pokémon Evolution and Genetics."

  "That sounds… intense," Austin admitted. "And long."

  "Scientific research is long, my boy," Professor Oak said. "Normally, something like this could take years to fully understand. But you've already done the hard part by proving it's possible. We'll conduct follow-up studies and gather enough evidence to solidify our claims. I expect it will take a few months."

  "I guess it'll be nice to have my name in the contribution section of a major research paper."

  "What are you talking about, boy? The research paper will be credited to you. Yes, my team and I will be listed, but this is your discovery. It would be wrong not to give you the accolades you deserve."

  Austin felt his breath hitch. He hadn't expected that. He thought Oak and his team would take the lead while he'd just be mentioned as a small footnote for sparking the idea. He hadn't even considered that he would be listed as the primary contributor to something this big. His palms started to sweat as the weight of what Oak was offering hit him.

  "Wow… that's more than I ever expected."

  "You've earned it. This discovery could change how we understand Pokémon biology, TMs, and evolution on a fundamental level. You've done something very special here."

  "How much of an impact could this paper actually make?"

  "Well, my boy, if I had to guess, your name will become widely known throughout the world. Trainers, researchers, and breeders alike will be talking about this for years. That's how much of an impact this paper could have."

  Austin froze. Widely known. Throughout the world. The excitement he'd felt earlier quickly shifted into panic. His heart thumped hard against his chest, and he could feel the blood rushing to his ears. If my name goes on this paper as Ash Ketchum, the world will know I'm responsible. Reporters. Trainers. Competitors.

  "Can I… use an alias instead?"

  Oak raised a curious eyebrow. "An alias? Are you worried this fame will affect your journey as a trainer?"

  Austin nodded quickly, relieved that Oak wasn't pushing back or asking too many questions. "Exactly. I just don't want all the attention to interfere with the progress I'm making. It's hard enough balancing everything as it is."

  Oak tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Well, I understand. I'll respect your wishes. Now, what alias would you like to use?"

  Austin's throat went dry as he considered his next words. He knew he couldn't use Ash Ketchum. Not for this. Ash didn't deserve the credit—Austin did. He was the one who ran the experiments, formed the hypothesis, and made the connections. Ash was the mask the world saw, but this discovery was his.

  "Austin Ashton Kevin," he said finally, the words leaving his mouth before he could second-guess them.

  Oak nodded, not suspecting anything. "Austin Ashton Kevin… Well, that's quite a name, but I suppose no one will be linking Ash Ketchum to that alias."

  Austin managed a small laugh too, though his hands were still trembling. "Thanks, Professor. I appreciate it."

  "Well, then," Oak said, glancing at something off-screen. "I have another call coming through, so I'll let you go. But I'll be at your location tomorrow, and I'm bringing Daisy with me." He smirked playfully, clearly teasing.

  Austin's face heated up instantly. "See you tomorrow, Professor," he said quickly before ending the call.

  As soon as the screen went dark, Austin slumped into the chair and let out the deepest breath he'd taken in a long time. His heart was pounding, his throat dry, and his head spinning. I can't believe that worked, he whispered to himself, wiping the sweat from his palms. He felt like he'd just pulled off the heist of the century without getting caught.

  He stood up and walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water, hoping it would help calm his nerves. As the water from the tap filled the glass, he heard a quiet sound behind him. He turned his head and saw Misty sitting at the kitchen table, staring down at a piece of toast she hadn't touched.

  "Hey, Misty," Austin said, trying to sound casual. "I didn't know you woke up this early."

  She didn't respond. She just sat there, the silence stretching between them, broken only by the sound of running water.

  Austin turned off the tap and took a sip from his glass. "Misty?"

  She lifted her head, her eyes locking onto his. His stomach dropped the moment he saw her expression. Her gaze was hard—not angry exactly, but intense—like she was analyzing him, fitting puzzle pieces together in her mind.

  "Austin," she said slowly. "If I can even call you that."

  Austin froze, the glass of water halfway to his lips. His brain scrambled, trying to make sense of what she was saying. How did she know—

  "All the telephones in the house are connected to one line," Misty said, her voice steady but heavy with meaning.

  He could feel the blood draining from his face as he slowly set the glass down on the counter. "Misty…"

  "When I woke up," she continued, "I came to the kitchen to get something to eat. I heard a call on the phone and thought maybe it was important, so I listened for a second to see who it was." She stood up now, her eyes never leaving his. "Imagine my surprise when I realized I wasn't just hearing any call—I was hearing the call between you and Professor Oak."

  Austin swallowed hard, his throat tightening.

  "Austin," she said again, her tone sharper this time. "Or should I say… Ash Ketchum?"

  Austin had bitten off more than he could chew.

  Of course, this was going to happen eventually. He'd been an idiot to think he could keep up the act forever. Misty had known him as Austin from the moment they met back on Route 1, and instead of correcting her when they reunited in Cerulean, he had just… gone along with it. Because he liked it. Because it felt right.

  And now?

  Now, he was paying the price.

  Pikachu, ever perceptive, nudged his arm, golden ears twitching. "Pika?"

  Austin ran a hand over Pikachu's head, keeping his expression neutral as Misty banged on the door to her sisters' room.

  "Get up!" she called. "This is important."

  "They should be down in a minute," she said, turning back to Austin with her arms crossed, her eyes sharp.

  Austin exhaled slowly. "Is this really necessary?"

  "Yes," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. Then, with a pointed stare, she added, "So, think of an excuse while we wait… Ash."

  Austin sweatdropped.

  Overreaction much?

  And, first of all, he didn't need an excuse—he had reasons. Good ones. Ones he had actually put thought into, because he knew this could happen someday.

  Misty didn't say anything else. Just sat there, arms crossed, waiting.

  Pikachu tilted his head up at Austin, his little brows furrowed. Austin gave him a reassuring pat, trying to steady his own annoyance. He could feel it creeping in, curling hot in his stomach. She wanted answers? Fine. But dragging everyone into this like he had committed some kind of crime?

  The door creaked open, and Misty's three older sisters shuffled into the living room, groggy and barely awake.

  Daisy rubbed her eyes. "What's going on?"

  "Can't it wait till, like, eight?" Violet yawned, stretching her arms over her head.

  Lily nodded, though her head was dipping from sleep.

  Austin sighed, glancing at Misty. "Sorry, you three. I guess Misty wanted to turn this into a whole thing, because she thinks she's hot shit."

  Pikachu sucked in a sharp breath. "Chu…."

  The three sisters blinked, suddenly much more awake. They weren't used to seeing Austin snap like that.

  Misty's jaw tightened. "Excuse me?"

  Austin ignored her. He had no interest in arguing with someone who had already made up their mind. Instead, he reached into his pocket, pulled out his trainer ID, and flicked it onto the table. It spun once before landing face up.

  "The name on my ID is Ash Ketchum."

  Silence.

  The sisters exchanged glances. Misty's expression remained unreadable.

  "Then who's Austin?" Misty finally asked, her voice quieter but still firm.

  Austin met her gaze, steady. "It's my nickname."

  Another beat of silence.

  Lily furrowed her brow. "How does that work? Ash to Austin?"

  Austin shrugged. "Shortening names does weird things. Richard to Dick, Robert to Bob, Jack for John. Peg for Margaret."

  Violet raised an eyebrow. "Austin is longer than Ash."

  Austin smirked. "I was trying to be quirky."

  That, at least, got a few snorts from the sisters.

  Misty, however, wasn't done. "Why?"

  Austin tilted his head. "What, do I need some deep, meaningful reason for using a nickname? Maybe I just thought it was cool." His tone turned sharp. "Oh, the horror."

  Daisy watched him closely. "Austin—Ash—are you mad at Misty?"

  "What did I do? I just wanted an explanation. Anyone would ask questions if they found out someone's been using a different name."

  Austin let out a slow breath, keeping his expression neutral. "It's not about you asking, Misty. Any reasonable person would. But the way you went about it? Calling everyone in here like I was some criminal on trial? Acting like I needed permission to use a name that I chose? Telling me I'd have to explain myself like I owe you something?"

  Misty blinked, caught off guard.

  "Who the hell do you think you are, Misty Waterflower?"

  Misty's lips parted, like she had something to say—but nothing came out. Instead, she just looked down, gripping her arms a little tighter around herself.

  The room was heavy with silence.

  Pikachu let out a low hum, his ears flicking back. He climbed up Austin's shoulder, rubbing his cheek against him in an attempt to calm him down. Austin exhaled through his nose.

  "I've got stuff to do," he said, pushing up from the couch. "Or do I need to check in with Boss Misty first?"

  No response.

  Then—sniffles.

  A shaky breath. And suddenly, Misty was crying.

  Austin shut his eyes, cursing internally. Great. Now I made a girl cry.

  Pikachu let out a worried sound, ears drooping slightly. Austin sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. He had expected Misty to be upset, but he hadn't thought she'd break down over it.

  The sisters shifted, exchanging glances. Daisy placed a gentle hand on Misty's shoulder, but Misty shrugged it off, wiping at her eyes.

  Austin felt the weight of Pikachu's stare on him.

  He could fix this. But he didn't want to. Not right now. Not when he was still simmering, still irritated that this even happened in the first place.

  So he turned toward the door, Pikachu still perched on his shoulder.

  "I need some air," he muttered.

  And with that, he left.

  The walk did little to settle Austin's mind. His thoughts kept circling back to the confrontation with Misty and her sisters, replaying every word, every reaction. He ran through different ways he could have handled it—explaining things more carefully, deflecting with humor, or even just telling the truth outright from the start.

  But in the end, he had gone with the simplest explanation—a nickname, a quirk, something a kid would say. Something easy to brush off.

  Because at the end of the day, the world saw him as Ash Ketchum, a ten-year-old boy.

  But Misty and the others? They saw Austin.

  Would they believe him?

  Logically, they had every reason to. They had seen his intelligence, his resources, his kindness. He had done a lot for them.

  A name wasn't going to change that.

  But trust wasn't just about logic. Would Misty want to believe him? Or would she feel betrayed that he had kept something from her? Would Daisy, Violet, and Lily care, or would they simply shrug it off as another one of life's oddities?

  And then there was the real question—the one that lingered at the back of his mind like a shadow:

  Did it even matter?

  If they believed him, would it change anything? Or would they still see him the same way they always had?

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Maybe the bigger issue wasn't whether they trusted him.

  Maybe it was whether he even cared.

  Helping Misty and her sisters had been the right thing to do, sure—but had it really been for them? Or was it just another part of his investigation? Another way to test the Butterfree Effect and see if fate truly existed?

  Austin sighed, pushing the thought aside.

  "Pika."

  A small tug on his sleeve pulled him from his thoughts. He blinked down at Pikachu, who was holding up a scrappy-looking flower, its petals slightly wilted from being plucked between the cobblestones.

  Austin took it, twirling the stem between his fingers. There was something grounding about the small, simple gesture. "Thanks, buddy."

  Pikachu puffed out his chest proudly, only to wrinkle his nose the moment Austin held the flower closer.

  "Pchu!"

  The sneeze was loud, sending the little mouse stumbling back. He shook himself, then immediately crossed his arms, face scrunched in deep Pikachu-offense.

  Austin chuckled, hugging him. "Allergic to flowers now?"

  "Chu!" Pikachu huffed, squirming out of his grip.

  "Oh, I see how it is." Austin raised an eyebrow. "I have to stay calm all the time, right? But you get to be all dramatic whenever you want?"

  Pikachu narrowed his eyes, then gave the slowest, most deliberate nod, like a sage passing down ancient wisdom.

  "Unbelievable."

  "Ka-chu." Pikachu flicked his tail dismissively, as if the matter had been decided long ago.

  Rolling his eyes, Austin tucked the flower behind Pikachu's ear, ignoring the immediate offended Pikachu noises that followed. "Whatever, let's go eat something before you overthrow me and declare yourself king."

  At that, Pikachu perked up instantly, all previous grievances forgotten.

  He'd grab some food, send a message to Nurse Joy—then it was time to see if the investigator had finished his report.

  Austin pushed open the glass door to Lowry & Lyle Investigations, stepping into a room that felt more like a high-end security firm than a back-alley detective's office.

  A faint trace of polished leather and fresh coffee lingered in the air, blending with the subtle musk of something more primal. That scent didn't come from the office itself—it came from the massive Arcanine lying in the corner, its fur gleaming under the office lights.

  Austin barely had time to take it all in before a deep voice cut through the quiet.

  "Kid."

  Detective Lyle.

  The man was leaned back in his chair, feet propped up on the desk, lazily flipping through a case file. He was clean-shaven today, his dark brown hair neatly combed back, but there was still something about him that screamed noir detective. Maybe it was the trench coat slung over the chair, or the calm, unshakable confidence in his sharp gray eyes.

  Or maybe it was the fact that his Arcanine was watching Austin just as intently as Lyle was.

  "Right on time," Lyle said, flipping the folder shut and setting it aside. "That's good. I like people who respect schedules."

  "Didn't want to keep you waiting."

  Lyle chuckled, reaching for a cup of coffee. "Smart kid." He took a sip before gesturing to the chair across from him. "Have a seat."

  Austin did. Pikachu, who had been happily riding on his shoulder, hopped onto the desk, carrying a club sandwich drenched in garlic ketchup.

  "That's an unholy amount of ketchup."

  Pikachu, utterly unbothered, took a dramatic bite, making an exaggerated mmm sound before licking the ketchup off his paws.

  "He's a connoisseur."

  "More like a menace." Lyle exhaled, setting down his coffee before sliding a neatly arranged manila folder across the desk. "Anyway, here's what you wanted."

  Austin picked it up, flipping through the precisely typed reports. Every page was crisp, every detail outlined clearly. No messy scribbles, no unnecessary fluff—just clean, hard facts.

  Lyle leaned back again, watching him read. "Gotta say, kid, you're a curious one. Not a lot of trainers your age would be running background checks on random people. You want to tell me why?"

  Austin didn't look up from the folder. "Just curiosity."

  Lyle didn't react right away. Instead, he reached out and scratched behind Arcanine's ear, the massive Pokémon letting out a deep, contented rumble.

  "That so?" Lyle mused. His voice was unreadable, but there was something about the way he said it—like he was testing the weight of the words.

  Austin stayed quiet.

  "Curiosity's a funny thing. Most people think it's harmless, but it's got a sharp edge. Information's only valuable if you care about what it means."

  Austin stilled slightly at that.

  "See, people don't go looking unless they already have a reason. Even if they don't realize it yet." The man nodded toward the file. "So, tell me, kid. You care about what's in there?"

  "I care about what it tells me."

  Lyle chuckled. "Good answer."

  Arcanine let out a slow breath, shifting its massive paws as it eyed Pikachu's sandwich like it was prey.

  Pikachu, mid-bite, froze. His little arms tightened around his sandwich, eyes narrowing. "Chu…"

  "Yeah, that's not a fight you're gonna win, buddy."

  Pikachu, undeterred, jabbed a paw at Arcanine and let out an indignant, "Pika-pi!"—as if challenging the fire-type to a duel over his sandwich.

  Arcanine didn't so much as twitch. Instead, it yawned. Stretched its legs. Then, with the most condescending air possible, turned its head away as if Pikachu wasn't worth its time.

  "Congrats, you just got ignored."

  Pikachu let out a scandalized gasp, clutching his sandwich dramatically as if Arcanine had dishonored his entire existence.

  "Gotta say, that's the first time I've seen a Pikachu declare a blood feud over a sandwich."

  Austin sighed, tucking the folder into his bag. "Thanks for the report."

  Lyle nodded. "Pleasure doing business." Then, as Austin stood to leave, Lyle added, "And kid—one more thing."

  Austin paused.

  "Be careful with what you dig up. Information's like fire—you don't need much to start something bigger than you can control."

  Austin held his gaze for a moment before giving a small nod.

  As he stepped outside, Pikachu shoved the last of his sandwich into his mouth, glaring at Arcanine like he had won some great battle.

  Arcanine, without even looking, let out a low, rumbling chuckle.

  Austin didn't comment.

  His mind was already elsewhere.

  Austin flipped open the folder, scanning the neatly typed pages inside.

  Each name on the list represented a pivotal moment in what should have been Ash Ketchum's original journey.

  Melanie – The girl with the Bulbasaur.

  The Squirtle Squad – A gang of abandoned Squirtles that caused havoc before he met them.

  Damien – The trainer who abandoned Charmander in the rain.

  The reason for the investigation? To see if his presence in this world had caused a butterfly effect.

  Had his actions altered their fates? Were these moments fixed, destined to happen no matter what he did? Or had he unknowingly sent ripples through time, pushing the world into uncharted waters?

  If it was fate, then his choices didn't matter. If everything was meant to unfold a certain way, then no matter how much he planned or prepared, he was simply playing his role in something larger than himself.

  But if it was chaos theory, if the timeline was truly malleable, then everything hinged on him. Every step he took had consequences. Every action, every deviation, could reshape the future.

  That thought sat heavy in his mind.

  Austin exhaled and turned to the first report.

  Subject: Melanie

  Full Name: Melanie Fairburn

  Parents: Dr. Richard Fairburn & Dr. Eleanor Fairburn

  Occupation: Field Conservationist – Pokémon Sanctuary Specialist

  Current Location: Hidden Village Sanctuary, Route 5

  Background Check:

  Melanie is the only daughter of Dr. Richard and Dr. Eleanor Fairburn, two highly regarded conservation biologists working under Nature's Haven Initiative, an NGO dedicated to the preservation of Pokémon habitats. The organization collaborates with major research institutions, including Professor Oak's lab, Professor Ivy's research center, and the Kanto Rangers Division.

  Her parents specialize in rehabilitating wild Pokémon that have suffered from environmental disruptions, illegal poaching, or forced displacement due to industrial expansion. Because of their work, Melanie grew up in temporary wildlife sanctuaries across multiple regions, developing an extensive knowledge of Pokémon care from an early age.

  In the present day, Melanie settled in Kanto's Route 5 sector, establishing the Hidden Village Sanctuary, a self-sustaining Pokémon refuge. This location acts as a neutral ground for injured, abandoned, or displaced Pokémon. The sanctuary is well-hidden, camouflaged by the dense forestry of the area, and has remained relatively unknown to the general public—aside from rumors passed between travelers and wandering trainers.

  Her work primarily involves: Providing medical aid and temporary shelter for Pokémon in distress.

  Collaborating with Pokémon Centers and independent breeders to rehabilitate abandoned Pokémon.

  Preventing poachers and illegal capture attempts in protected areas.

  Educating younger trainers about Pokémon welfare and responsible training ethics.

  Current Operations & Status: Sanctuary Condition: Fully operational.

  Number of Pokémon in Residence: Estimated 30-40.

  Notable Pokémon Residents: Bulbasaur – Unusually strong territorial tendencies; acts as the sanctuary's self-appointed guardian.

  Oddish Colony – Protected due to habitat loss caused by recent deforestation efforts in the area.

  Exeggutor – Previously injured in a trainer battle, now recovering in the sanctuary.

  Notable Findings:

  The report contained several photographs of the Hidden Village, showcasing makeshift wooden structures among the trees, a small natural spring, and Pokémon roaming freely.

  And in one of those pictures—he saw it.

  A Bulbasaur.

  Austin's breath caught slightly as his eyes locked onto the camera glare. There it was—Ash's Bulbasaur, standing at the entrance of the sanctuary, staring straight ahead with that same protective scowl.

  Even through the photograph, its presence was undeniable.

  So it was still there.

  That meant he could still go and get it. Austin tapped his fingers against the edge of the page, already formulating a plan.

  For now, he turned to the next report.

  Subject: The Squirtle Squad

  Classification: Localized Pokémon Gang

  Location: Purple Town

  Threat Level: Minimal (Classified as Public Nuisance rather than Criminal Entity)

  Background Check:

  The Squirtle Squad is a loosely organized group of wild Squirtles known for their playful yet disruptive behavior. While many assume they were abandoned by trainers, the true origin is more complicated.

  Approximately four years ago, a shipment of Pokémon eggs intended for a Pokémon Breeding Facility in Saffron City was involved in a transport crash outside of Cerulean. Several eggs were lost during the wreckage, and by the time local authorities conducted a recovery mission, a significant portion had already hatched.

  The resulting group of newborn Squirtles—left without handlers, trainers, or proper reintroduction into the wild—banded together for survival. They quickly became a well-known presence in the area, engaging in pranks, small-scale thefts, and general mischief.

  Confirmed Incidents: Blocking roads & harassing travelers (stealing hats, backpacks, and food).

  Spraying water on pedestrians and causing minor chaos in local markets.

  Vandalizing road signs and Purple Town's Welcome Center.

  Overwhelming the town's Pokémon Center with false 'injury' claims for free food.

  Local authorities have not deemed them a serious threat, classifying them instead as a recurring public nuisance.

  Notable Pokémon: Leader Squirtle – Unofficially recognized as the leader of the group. Notably larger than its counterparts and wears sunglasses.

  Core Members – Five additional Squirtles, highly loyal to the leader.

  Encounters with Trainers – None confirmed, though they have been known to follow trainers they find interesting.

  Capture Probability – Low, unless directly challenged or approached with an offer of leadership.

  Austin closed the reports on Melanie and the Squirtle Squad, leaning back slightly in his chair.

  Bulbasaur and Squirtle were safe.

  That was good. It meant things were stable—so far.

  But none of this actually answered the question that had been gnawing at him since he first woke up in this world.

  Was this fate? Or had he already changed things beyond recognition?

  There were ways—a lot of ways—to interpret these reports.

  On one hand, the fact that Bulbasaur and Squirtle were still in their original locations suggested that some things were set in stone, that no matter what he did, these key moments would still exist in some form.

  But on the other hand, knowing their exact locations now meant he had already deviated from how things originally played out. He wouldn't be wandering blindly into the Hidden Village, accidentally earning Bulbasaur's trust by defending the sanctuary from Team Rocket. He wouldn't be stumbling into the Squirtle Squad's antics and winning over their leader through sheer dumb luck.

  This was deliberate. Planned.

  That, in itself, was a change.

  Austin held off on making judgments. It was too soon to tell.

  For now, there was only one report left.

  And this was the one that mattered.

  Austin flipped open the file on Damien.

  Subject: Damien Calloway

  Full Name: Damien Alexander Calloway

  Parents:

  Father: Victor Calloway – CEO of Calloway Global Enterprises, a multi-billion-dollar investment firm with interests in energy, Pokémon pharmaceuticals, and real estate development.

  Mother: Helena Calloway (née Devereaux) – Retired film actress and former Johto Elite Beauty Contest winner.

  Current Status: Active Trainer.

  Background Check

  Damien Calloway is the only son of one of Kanto's wealthiest corporate families. His father's empire spans across multiple industries, with high-profile business partnerships that include Silph Co., Devon Corp., and various elite Pokémon research laboratories, including Professor Oak's lab. His mother, Helena Devereaux, was once a celebrated actress before retiring from public life following a highly publicized divorce.

  Investigations into Damien's childhood upbringing have indicated severe neglect due to both parents being frequently absent. Household staff and former nannies reported that the boy exhibited violent tendencies from a young age, particularly towards weaker Pokémon, which he saw as expendable tools rather than companions.

  At age nine, Damien was expelled from an elite Pokémon academy after multiple disciplinary issues, including unauthorized battles that resulted in severe injuries to Pokémon belonging to fellow students. Following this, his father pulled strings to secure a private mentorship with a retired Pokémon League official to train his battling skills.

  Trainer Profile

  Official League Registration:

  Trainer ID: 04672-KL

  Journey Start: Vermilion City, Kanto

  Received Starter: Charmander (via Professor Oak's Lab, arranged through private donation).

  Primary Battle Strategy: Overwhelming force, brute strength, and exploitation of rare or high-level Pokémon rather than personal skill development.

  Pokémon Team Overview

  (Verified through Battle Registry & Trainer Challenge Records)

  Scizor – Purchased from a Johto-based breeder specializing in high-IV Bug-types.

  Rhyhorn – Acquired from a Silph Co. subsidiary project on artificially enhanced battle growth.

  Electabuzz – Gifted by his father as a "correction" to his loss against Lt. Surge.

  Tauros – Obtained illegally through an underground battle auction. (Investigation pending).

  Charmander – Least used Pokémon in rotation; often sent into disadvantageous battles against Water or Rock-types.

  Charmander was originally registered to Damien at Professor Oak's Lab, obtained through a large donation to the facility. While most Charmander given to trainers at the lab show a healthy developmental curve, this specific Pokémon has exhibited:

  Low recorded battle experience

  Frequent losses

  Prolonged exposure to type disadvantages

  Notable Battle Footage & Records: Repeatedly sent out against Water-type opponents without tactical planning.

  Visibly exhausted in multiple gym recordings.

  Does not display confidence in battles; reluctance noted in trainer command responses.

  One particularly noteworthy discovery included a physical irregularity on Charmander's back—a discolored marking that appears slightly darker than surrounding skin.

  Medical Analysis:

  ? Unavailable (Further investigation required to determine if the discoloration is due to an old injury, a burn scar, or an unknown genetic anomaly.)

  Current Location & Activity:

  Tracking indicates Damien is en route to Cerulean City.

  Scheduled to participate in Misty Waterflower's Cerulean Tournament.

  Austin stared at the words.

  And then, he laughed. A deep, breathless laugh of sheer relief.

  His shoulders sagged as he covered his face, the folder slipping from his hands. His chest ached, his breath caught, and before he knew it— Tears slipped down his face. Not from sadness. Not from frustration. But because, for the first time since waking up in this world—he finally had proof.

  There was no all-powerful, invisible force keeping the timeline in check.

  No divine hand ensuring everything played out exactly as it should. No scripted fate keeping him locked into Ash Ketchum's original path. Everything—every single event—had been nothing more than a series of dominoes.

  Meeting Brock. The Clefairy tribe. Team Rocket's repeated encounters. Misty. The Dragon Rage Magikarp. Sird. Green. Vee's entire existence.

  None of it had been destined to happen.

  It had all been reactions to his choices. His presence.

  And that meant…

  There was no safety net.

  No invisible force ensuring he wouldn't fail. No guarantees that things would turn out for the better.

  And that?

  That terrified him.

  His voice cracked as he muttered, "I—I'm scared."

  Pikachu, who had been napping in his cap, stirred at the sound of his voice. His ears twitched before he groggily crawled out, blinking up at Austin.

  The moment Pikachu saw the tears, he immediately climbed up, hugging Austin's face.

  "Chu…" Pikachu whispered, nudging his cheek.

  Austin let out a shaking breath, pressing his forehead against Pikachu's fur.

  The boy admitted it—to himself, to the Pokémon that had stuck by his side from the beginning.

  "I'm scared, buddy," Austin whispered.

  Pikachu held on tighter, his tiny paws wiping at Austin's face.

  And slowly… slowly, Austin felt his breathing steady.

  Because that was life—a step into the unknown, no map, no certainties.

  Fear wasn't a weakness. It was proof he understood the weight of what lay ahead. All he could do—all he would do—was brace himself and keep moving. Because this wasn't some scripted anime timeline, preordained and unshakable.

  This was his journey.

  And for better or worse, he alone would shape what came next.

  Regret.

  Misty had felt it before—more times than she liked to admit—but she had never been one to regret what she said.

  Why should she?

  Her mother never taught her to back down, never raised her to be the kind of person who swallowed her words. If you had something to say, you said it. That was how Misty lived. That was how she fought.

  And yet…

  After her argument with Austin that morning—after hours of waiting for him to come back and finding nothing but silence in return—regret was all she felt.

  Ash Ketchum.

  No—she refused to call him Ash. He had always been Austin to her, the person who had been there for her, the one who had gone out of his way to help her and never asked for anything in return.

  And yet, when he had finally needed something from her—just a little patience, a little understanding—she had demanded answers like he was beneath her. Like she had the right to own his truth.

  Now, with every passing hour that he didn't come back, the silence grew louder. She had spent so much of her journey alone. Even when she had her sisters, even when she had Pokémon, even when she had a dream to chase, she had always felt like she was on her own. But now, when she was closer than ever to achieving that dream, she had thrown away the one friendship that made it possible.

  And for what?

  Because she had let her pride get in the way? Because she had let her temper run her mouth? Misty let out a heavy sigh, staring at the half-empty pools of the Cerulean Gym.

  "Hey."

  A voice broke through her thoughts, and Misty turned to see Meowtholomew making his way toward her, balancing a tray of sandwiches in his tiny paws.

  A trench coat. A fedora. Whiskers twitching with every step.

  The guy was a complete weirdo. The first time she saw him, she had nearly burst out laughing. A tiny man with cat-like whiskers, dressed like some shady street informant, talking with an accent straight out of a detective movie? Come on.

  But apparently, according to him, he had a rare genetic condition from being bitten by a radioactive Meowth.

  Misty hadn't believed a word of it. But Austin hadn't made a big fuss about it, so she didn't say anything either.

  "You should eat somethin'," Meowth said, hopping up onto the bench beside her and setting the tray down.

  "I'm not hungry."

  Meowth shrugged, not pushing it. "Alright, but Boss Daisy told me ta tell ya—no tournament today. She wants ya ta rest. Eat somethin'. Get ya head straight."

  Misty sighed. "Yeah… that's probably for the best."

  She wasn't in any state to battle right now. Not with him still gone. Still, just to stop Meowth from nagging, she picked up one of the sandwiches and took a small bite. Then she pushed the rest toward him. "You and your friends can have the rest."

  Meowth blinked. "Oh—uh, thanks!" His whiskers twitched in surprise, but he reached for a sandwich anyway.

  Then he stopped.

  His sharp little eyes narrowed.

  "Somethin's buggin' ya."

  Misty tensed slightly. "It's nothing."

  Meowth snorted. "Kid, when people say it's nothin', it's usually somethin'."

  Misty hesitated, then exhaled, gripping the bench beneath her. "...Have you ever felt bad about something you said?"

  Meowth tilted his head, thinking.

  Then he grinned, sharp and knowing. "Course I have. That's the blessin' of talkin', ain't it?"

  Misty frowned. "Blessing?"

  "Yeah," Meowth said, gesturing with a sandwich like he was giving some great speech. "Ta be able ta say somethin'—ta speak, ta be understood—ta be heard? That's a blessin'."

  He leaned back slightly, flicking the brim of his fedora.

  "When I was just a scrawny little runt, I taught myself how ta walk like a human, how ta talk like a human. And ya know what happened?"

  Misty stayed quiet.

  Meowth's grin didn't fade.

  "They called me a freak."

  Misty's stomach twisted.

  "But," Meowth continued, waving a paw, "through speakin', I found a place. Through speakin', I found people who listened. And that's all that really matters."

  He glanced at her, eyes sharper now. "Things only happen when ya say somethin'. Good or bad, it don't matter. The world don't move unless ya speak up. And if ya don't like what ya said?" He smirked. "Well, lucky for you—ya still got your tongue, don'tcha?"

  Misty's breath hitched slightly. She didn't answer at first, just stared down at her hands.

  "...Thanks."

  Meowth shrugged like it was nothing. "No problem."

  He grabbed the tray of sandwiches and hopped off the bench.

  "I'll be takin' these back ta Jessie and James. You, uh…" He tilted his head. "Ya figure out what ya gotta do yet?"

  Misty clenched her fists.

  Yeah, she did.

  Meowth smirked, already turning away. "Good."

  Austin sat in front of the Pokémon Center's communication room, watching as the screen flickered before settling on Nurse Joy's familiar face.

  "Nice to see you finally called," Joy said, arms crossed. "Your Rattata and Spearow were getting restless."

  Austin winced. "Yeah… sorry about that. Things got a little busy on my end. Figured it was easier for them to stay with you while they recovered—at least long enough that they wouldn't draw suspicion."

  "Of course, the mysterious hero has to hide his identity," Nurse Joy teased, a knowing smirk on her lips. Then her expression shifted, more serious. "But I'll have you know that Spearow was extremely aggressive. We had to keep him separated from the other patients. He even injured some of the Chansey nurses."

  Austin winced again, this time deeper. "Damn. I—I'm really sorry about that. I'll make it up to them. I'll give Spearow a… stern talking to."

  "Mmm-hmm. You do that." Nurse Joy didn't sound convinced. Then her gaze softened. "Rattata, on the other hand, was an absolute sweetheart. A joy to have around."

  "That sounds like her. How are they both doing?"

  "I'll send you their full medical reports—both a detailed and simplified version. Thought you'd appreciate not having to wade through the jargon."

  Austin exhaled in relief. "You have no idea how much I appreciate that."

  "Rattata has made a strong recovery," Joy continued. "No complications. The only thing left is some fur regrowth, but that's normal. I'd recommend a few more days of rest before she undergoes any serious battling."

  Austin nodded. That was a weight off his chest. His little lady was back, just needed a little more time.

  "Now… about Spearow."

  "His case is a little more… interesting."

  "Interesting how?"

  Nurse Joy paused, choosing her words carefully. "Well, physically, Spearow's injuries weren't the main concern. He didn't have severe external wounds. The real problem was… mental."

  "How so?"

  "Think of it like this," Joy said, adjusting the camera slightly. "Imagine a professional athlete—someone at their peak—suddenly getting bedridden for months, maybe even a year. Their muscles weaken, their coordination deteriorates, and even though they remember how to move, their body just… doesn't respond the same way anymore. They have to relearn everything—from balance to endurance, from reflexes to precision. And that process? It's frustrating. Maddening, even."

  Austin's hands tightened into fists.

  "Spearow's going through something similar. His body is strong—stronger than it's ever been. But his instincts haven't caught up."

  "...I am not following?"

  "Spearow still thinks he's the same as before, but with his new size, weight, and muscle structure, his old instincts just don't work."

  "Give me examples."

  Nurse Joy nodded. "For starters, his flight mechanics are completely off. His wingspan hasn't adjusted to his new weight, so he keeps trying to take off the way a normal Spearow would—but his heavier frame means he can't generate the same lift. He goes up but loses stability, which makes him crash. Hard."

  Austin grimaced.

  "Due to this, he gets frustrated, and that frustration turns to anger. And that's why he attacked the Chansey nurses when they tried to calm him down. He doesn't understand what's happening to him. His self-perception and reality aren't lining up, and it's making him angry at everything."

  Austin let that sink in.

  "Right. Forget the stern talking to. I need to actually help him."

  "That would be best," Joy agreed.

  "Alright. I'll take care of it. And I'll make it up to the Chansey nurses. How about I send you some money? Buy them all something they like—as an apology from both Spearow and me."

  "I think they'd appreciate that."

  Then the pink-haired woman paused, grinning mischievously.

  "Buuuut…"

  "What?"

  "What do I get?"

  Austin blinked. "What?"

  "C'mon, kid. I was the one who fixed your Pokémon. Don't I get somethin' too?"

  Austin deadpanned. "You do realize you're asking a ten-year-old for money, right?"

  Nurse Joy waved a dismissive hand. "Let's just say I'm preparing you for the real world. Being a successful trainer means you'll attract all kinds of gold-digging bugs. I'm just giving you practice."

  "Uh-huh. And in this practice scenario, what kind of bug are you?"

  Nurse Joy flipped her hair dramatically. "Obviously, the beautiful kind."

  Austin snorted. "Right. Should've known."

  Both of them laughed. After a moment, Joy leaned forward slightly. "Jokes aside, what have you been up to? You seem… different."

  Austin blinked, caught off guard. He hadn't expected to be this comfortable talking to an adult. Most of the time, he felt like he was walking on eggshells, like he had to act a certain way to avoid suspicion. But Nurse Joy? She felt safe. Like he could actually talk to her.

  Still, he hesitated. "...That's a long story."

  "Summarized version, then."

  Austin sweatdropped. "Figures."

  He leaned back, gathering his thoughts.

  "Alright… here goes."

  By the time Austin finally returned to the Cerulean City Gym, the sky was painted in deep shades of blue, the streets bathed in the soft glow of streetlights. The long day had drained every ounce of energy he had—a meeting with Professor Oak about the Dragon Rage Magikarp, a conversation with Delia, and now this.

  No rest for the wicked, huh?

  He pushed open the door, stepping inside quietly, Pikachu curled up and fast asleep in his arms. The scent of something warm and inviting hit him instantly, mingling with the faint hum of the night. Across the room, Misty sat at the dinner table, staring down at a pot in front of her, her fingers tapping against the wooden surface.

  The moment she saw him, her head snapped up.

  "A…Austin." She stood up abruptly, like she had been waiting for hours.

  Austin held up a hand, motioning for silence. "Shh."

  Misty blinked in confusion until she noticed the tiny yellow lump snoozing in Austin's arms, his ears twitching slightly.

  "I should take him to bed first," Austin murmured.

  "And then… can we talk?"

  "Sure."

  A few minutes later, Austin returned, his shoulders feeling lighter without Pikachu's weight. He took a seat across from Misty at the table, stretching out his sore arms.

  "Pikachu's out like he worked a full-time construction job today."

  Misty smiled faintly, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Yeah."

  A moment of awkward silence settled between them.

  "…Did you eat anything yet?"

  "Not really."

  Misty nodded, reaching for the pot in front of her. "I made some pasta," she said, removing the lid.

  The moment she did, a wave of rich, savory aroma filled the air. Steam curled from the pot, carrying the scent of perfectly cooked noodles tossed in a creamy, herb-infused sauce. Small bits of diced tomatoes and basil glistened under the warm light, blending together in a way that made Austin's stomach immediately remind him of how little he had eaten that day.

  "I could eat."

  He grabbed the ladle, scooping a portion onto his plate. The first bite was heaven. The pasta was soft but firm, coated in a velvety sauce that carried just the right balance of garlic, butter, and fresh herbs. Each bite melted against his tongue, the flavors lingering long after he swallowed.

  "…Damn, Misty," he muttered, barely pausing before taking another bite. "This is really good."

  A small, almost shy smile flickered across her lips. "Thanks."

  "…And I'm sorry."

  Austin paused mid-bite, glancing up.

  "For what?" he asked, swallowing.

  "For… this morning," Misty admitted. "I—" She exhaled, shaking her head. "That was wrong of me."

  "Misty, anyone in your position would've asked questions. It's normal."

  "But it wasn't just the questions," she said quickly. "It was how I said it. The way I demanded answers from you like I was—" She stopped herself, her throat clenching.

  She exhaled, looking down.

  "I'm not your boss," she whispered. "You don't owe me anything. And I was wrong to act like I did."

  Austin stared at her for a moment before sighing. "…Oh yeah, don't worry about that. I kinda forgot already."

  Misty jerked her head up. "You—what?"

  "I had a lot of stuff to do today. Guess it took me longer than I realized." He picked up his fork again. "How'd the tournament go today?"

  "…We, uh. We canceled it."

  "…Why?"

  "We were too… worried about you."

  The words settled heavily between them.

  "I'm sorry for worrying you."

  Misty didn't respond right away, just nodded, staring down at the table.

  For a while, they just sat there, eating in comfortable silence. Then, Misty cleared her throat. "So… what were you doing today?"

  "Mostly just talking to Professor Oak about the Dragon Rage Magikarp project. He and his team will be coming by tomorrow afternoon to do some science stuff."

  Misty raised an eyebrow. "Science stuff?"

  Austin gave her a flat look. "Do I look like a scientist?"

  Misty giggled. "Fair enough. The professor's team won't get in the way of the tournament, right?"

  Austin shook his head. "Nope. Oak assured me they'll stay out of the way."

  "…Then why do you look so tense?"

  "Because there's… someone tagging along with them."

  Misty tilted her head. "Who?"

  Austin hesitated, then exhaled.

  "…Delia Ketchum. My mom."

  "Wait, is she also a scientist?"

  Austin snorted. "No. She runs a restaurant. But she wanted to spend the weekend with me, so I was wondering if—" He hesitated. "—if there's no issue, can she stay here with us?"

  "Of course she can stay! Daisy and the others will love having her here!"

  Austin raised an eyebrow. "That was quick."

  Misty fumbled slightly, suddenly flustered. "I—I mean, it's only polite! Besides, I don't mind cooking for the weekend."

  "Well," he said casually, "you do make a mean pasta."

  Misty's entire face turned red. She looked down, pressing her hands against her cheeks, letting out a tiny, muffled squeal.

  Austin's brain short-circuited.

  Wait. Wait. Is Misty—?

  He took another bite, mentally processing.

  …Don't tell me she's trying to impress my mom.

  Another bite.

  …Don't tell me she's developed a crush on me.

  Another bite.

  …Fuck. Arceus, please, I'm begging you—don't throw anything worse at me.

  His plate suddenly cracked. Austin's entire soul left his body.

  Great. I just jinxed it. He sighed, rubbing his temples. Austin had no idea just how much insanity was waiting for him next.

  The Next Day

  The Cerulean Gym was bustling with activity.

  A large white research truck pulled up to the front of the gym, its tires rolling smoothly over the pavement before coming to a steady stop. The vehicle was imposing, larger than a standard transport truck, with the Kanto Research Institute's emblem painted on the sides—a stylized Poké Ball encircled by an atom-like design. The truck's rear doors swung open, and out came a team of lab-coated researchers, unloading crates of equipment, scanning devices, and storage units. Some carried heavy-duty coolers—probably filled with specimens or scientific instruments—while others adjusted the wheeled carts stacked with data tablets and computers.

  Austin and the Cerulean Sisters stood outside, watching the organized chaos unfold.

  "Well, well, well! What do we have here?"

  A familiar, cocky voice rang out from the back of the truck, and before anyone could react, a figure leapt down from the vehicle.

  Gary Oak.

  Dressed in his signature purple long-sleeved shirt and dark jeans, his spiky brown hair catching the sunlight, Gary landed smoothly before straightening with a smug grin.

  "So I hear from the old man that you discovered something big." His grin widened. "Just so you know, I'm gonna make an even bigger discovery. Mark my words."

  Austin smirked, a chuckle slipping past his lips.

  "Hey, I'm serious!"

  Austin shook his head, still smiling. "No, I believe you." He offered his hand. "Good to see you, man. Hope you've been doing alright since everything that happened on Mt. Moon."

  Gary paused briefly, glancing at Austin's outstretched hand before smirking again. He shook it, his grip firm. "You think something as small as that is gonna stop The Great Gary Oak?"

  Austin chuckled. Yeah, that sounded like Gary.

  "I'm glad Gary is still his confident self."

  A warm, familiar female voice rang out, turning everyone's attention toward the truck's main side door, which had just opened. Austin already knew who it was before she even stepped out.

  Delia Ketchum.

  She emerged from the vehicle with the same gentle elegance she always carried, dressed in a peach-colored blouse and white capris. Her auburn hair was neatly tied back, and her eyes were bright with warmth. Gary barely had time to react before his grandfather stepped down right behind her, letting out an exasperated sigh.

  "Maybe he needs a little less confidence."

  Gary rolled his eyes. "Pfft. Says the guy who spent all morning geeking out over some research notes."

  Austin didn't pay much attention to their usual banter, his focus locked on Delia.

  His mother's eyes found him immediately, her lips curving into a soft smile. Without hesitation, she held out her arms.

  Austin didn't even think.

  He stepped forward and hugged her.

  Delia leaned back slightly, studying him with a sharp motherly gaze.

  "Have you been wearing clean underwear?"

  Austin groaned as the Cerulean Sisters burst into laughter.

  "Ohhh, can't the genius prodigy keep his underwear clean? Huh, Austin?"

  Austin's face burned. "Oh, shut up."

  Delia blinked, turning to Professor Oak. "Austin?"

  The professor chuckled. "That's the name our young Ash here is using for his research paper—keeps the reporters and sponsors from bothering his Pokémon journey."

  Delia's expression cleared in understanding. "Oh! Well, that makes sense."

  Gary, however, snorted. "I think it's lame."

  Austin's eye twitched.

  Gary grinned. "Seriously, couldn't come up with something cooler? Austin? What, were Ace and Blaze already taken?"

  Before Austin could respond, a bright, crackling spark suddenly ignited beside him.

  Gary barely had time to jump back as a yellow blur leapt forward.

  "PIKACHU!"

  A bolt of electricity shot from Pikachu's cheeks, narrowly missing Gary's foot as the rival trainer yelped, stumbling backward.

  "HEY!" Gary snapped. "Keep your rat in check, Ashy-boy! Or should I say Austin?"

  Austin smirked as Pikachu landed back on his shoulder, tail flicking smugly. "Maybe you should keep your mouth in check, Gar-Bear."

  The two boys locked eyes, a familiar crackling tension forming between them—one that didn't need words to be understood. Lightning clashed between their gazes.

  "Well, I'm not surprised." Delia's voice cut through the standoff.

  "Not surprised about what?"

  "Your father had a habit of using a nickname instead of his actual name."

  Silence.

  Austin's entire body froze.

  Misty blinked. "Wait… what was it?"

  "His nickname was Red Ketchum."

  Austin kept his expression neutral. I figured as much. Blue is Gary's father. Red is Ash's father. But then… why is Green my age? His head hurt, but he shook off the thought for now.

  "Well," he said, forcing himself to focus, "why don't we go inside before we start unpacking everything?"

  "That sounds like a wonderful idea."

  And just like that, the chaos was only beginning.

  An Hour Later

  Professor Oak's team worked efficiently, unloading advanced monitoring equipment and setting up analysis stations around the battle arena. The hum of machinery, the clatter of metal cases being unlatched, and the soft murmur of scientists discussing data points filled the air. Daisy, Violet, and Lily—though usually not ones for hard labor—had rolled up their sleeves and were actively helping the researchers.

  "Careful with that one," Daisy warned, watching as a scientist positioned a large bio-sensor array near the battlefield. "If it falls, it's so not coming outta our budget."

  "Ugh, this is so much work," Violet groaned, but she continued carrying a bundle of cables to one of the monitors.

  "Hey, think of it this way," Lily chimed in. "We can totally say we helped with a scientific breakthrough. How many performers get to do that?"

  Daisy smirked. "Yeah, plus, it makes the Gym look super professional."

  Professor Oak was hunched over a clipboard, scribbling notes and calculations as he observed Magikarp resting in a large, transparent observation tank. The tank was equipped with multiple electrodes that monitored the Pokémon's aura output, muscle contractions, and metabolic activity. A bioscanner hummed softly, displaying fluctuating readings on a holographic screen nearby.

  Professor Oak adjusted his glasses. "Fascinating… Its aura signature is far weaker than that of a naturally occurring Dragon-type user, yet it's still able to manifest Dragon Rage."

  Misty stood beside him, arms crossed, watching intently. "How are you planning to monitor Magikarp during the tournament? Will it interfere with the battles?"

  Oak glanced at her with a reassuring smile. "Not at all. The sensors we're using are non-invasive. We'll be tracking changes in its body temperature, heart rate, and energy output in real-time—all without affecting its movement." He tapped on his tablet. "My goal is to observe how Magikarp's biological functions change before and after battle."

  "So, you're looking for what exactly?"

  "The metabolic cost of Dragon Rage," Oak explained. "In theory, using a move like that should be impossibly draining for a Pokémon like Magikarp. But the fact that it can use it at all suggests something unusual in its aura distribution."

  "Aura distribution?"

  Oak nodded. "Every Pokémon has a natural aura, though for most species, it's passive rather than active. Dragon-types, for instance, have innate reservoirs of aura that fuel their Dragon-type attacks." He gestured toward Magikarp. "But this Magikarp? It shouldn't have enough aura density to sustain Dragon Rage, and yet… here we are. So how many times can it use Dragon Rage before it tires out?"

  "From what I've seen?" Misty thought for a moment. "Five times. After that, it's completely drained."

  Professor Oak tapped his chin. "Interesting. That's half the normal limit for a trained Dragon-type."

  "Wait, really? Dragon Rage is usually used ten times?"

  Oak nodded. "A healthy Gyarados or Charizard can use it ten times before hitting their natural energy threshold. If Magikarp's limit is five, it suggests that its aura pool is significantly smaller. The question is—"

  Oak's eyes gleamed with curiosity.

  "—is that limit due to Magikarp's natural biology, or is it because its body isn't designed to handle Dragon energy?"

  Misty's eyes widened slightly. "Wait… are you saying Magikarp might be damaging itself every time it uses Dragon Rage?"

  Oak tapped a few notes on his clipboard. "We won't know until we compare its pre-battle and post-battle metabolic readings. That's why today's tournament is so important."

  Misty swallowed. She had never thought about it like that. Was Magikarp hurting itself just to use that attack? Her grip on her arms tightened. "Then I'll make sure it doesn't overdo it today."

  Oak smiled approvingly. "That's exactly the kind of awareness a good trainer needs."

  Meanwhile, on the other side of the gym, Austin was standing next to his makeshift merchandise booth, watching as his mother examined one of the T-shirts on display. Delia hummed, running her fingers over the fabric. "These designs are adorable." She paused, eyes landing on one shirt in particular—a muscular Pikachu flexing like a bodybuilder. She raised an eyebrow, amused. "And this?"

  Austin groaned internally, already feeling the heat creep up his face. He pointed at Pikachu, who was perched smugly on the table.

  "…His idea."

  Pikachu puffed out his chest, striking the exact pose as the buff Pikachu on the shirt. "Pika!"

  Delia laughed. "Oh, no need to be embarrassed! I love it." She grinned at her son. "How about I buy one?"

  "You can just have one."

  "What kind of mother would I be if I didn't support my son's business?"

  "You should've told me this sooner. You could've been my first customer."

  Delia beamed. "Well, since I wasn't, how about you make me a custom one? Something only I can wear."

  Austin chuckled. "Alright, sure. What kind of design do you want?"

  Delia tilted her head playfully. "Hmm… I don't know. Surprise me."

  Austin sighed. He already knew this conversation was going nowhere. Delia was the type of mom who would love anything just because her son made it. No, if he was doing this, he was going to make something good.

  "Alright," Austin said. "What's your favorite Pokémon?"

  Pikachu immediately tapped his chest, grinning. "Pika!"

  Austin pinched his partner's cheek. "Not you."

  Delia laughed, then paused for a moment before saying, "Riolu."

  Austin froze.

  "…Wait, what?"

  Delia smiled at his stunned expression. "Oh, you don't know? Riolu is this—"

  Austin kind of blanked out as she started explaining. He already knew what a Riolu was. That wasn't what shocked him. What shocked him was that Delia's favorite Pokémon was Riolu. In everything he had ever seen about her, Delia Ketchum was just… Ash's mom. A woman who cooked, cleaned, and waved happily as her son ran off on his adventure. Nothing deeper than that.

  But now he had questions.

  "That's… an interesting choice," Austin said slowly. "Why is Riolu your favorite?"

  Delia smiled fondly. "Because it was the folklore hero Pokémon of the town I grew up in."

  Austin's stomach dropped.

  "…What town was that?"

  "Rota."

  Austin stiffened.

  His mind raced. Rota? As in, the Rota from the Lucario movie? The one with Sir Aaron's Lucario? That means— Wait… could I actually free him? Lucario reacted to Ash's aura in the movie. But my soul isn't Ash's… would it react to me?

  "Sweetheart?" Delia's voice pulled him from his spiraling thoughts. "You got really serious just now. Is something wrong?"

  Austin blinked, quickly composing himself.

  "Oh… no. I was just thinking of a Riolu design for you, Mom."

  Delia's face lit up. "Oh, baby, you don't have to think so much! I'll just take this Pikachu shirt!"

  Pikachu cheered as Delia scratched behind his ears.

  Austin, however, was already lost in thought.

  "So cute!"

  Delia squealed in delight, clasping her hands together as Austin introduced her to his Pokémon. Her eyes sparkled with warmth, taking in the unique personalities of each one.

  Austin, standing proudly, chuckled. "Well, my team isn't the biggest, but I'm proud of each and every member..." His voice carried a quiet confidence, a sense of pride that ran deeper than just words. "...of my family."

  His gaze shifted toward his Pokémon, and as if on cue, his most problematic—yet proud—bird was sitting off to the side.

  Spearow.

  The small, sharp-eyed bird sat on a plush pillow, the cone of shame securely fastened around his neck—a precaution from Nurse Joy to prevent any sudden, unprovoked attacks. If looks could kill, the cone would have burst into flames. Spearow sat there, shoulders stiff, his feathers slightly ruffled in sheer displeasure. His beady eyes flicked toward Delia, narrowing slightly, as if daring her to say anything about his current predicament.

  Delia hesitated.

  Austin noticed immediately.

  He wasn't blind to how people reacted to Spearow. They saw aggression. A temperamental fighter. Someone unpredictable. Dangerous. Something to be cautious of.

  But that wasn't what Austin saw. He saw a Pokémon that wanted respect, not fear.

  Austin walked over, crouching beside Spearow.

  "This is Spearow," he said, his tone steady. "My eyes in the sky. The best flying-type in Kanto." He smirked. "And soon? The best in the world."

  Spearow's eyes widened slightly. Then, his chest puffed out. Austin reached forward, scratching just behind the bird's angular beak, right where the feathers were softest.

  Spearow froze for a brief second—then slowly, instinctively leaned in. The tension melted from his small frame, his wings drooping ever so slightly, and for a rare, fleeting moment, he looked utterly relaxed.

  "I… I didn't know Spearows could be this adorable!"

  The moment she said it, Spearow's eyes snapped open.

  His entire body tensed. Then, in an instant, he jerked away from Austin's hand, straightened his back, and turned his head away in the most dramatic, 'I'm too cool for this' motion possible.

  A perfect, badass pose.

  Unfortunately, the effect was completely ruined by the cone.

  Austin couldn't stop himself from grinning, and neither could Delia, who giggled behind her hands.

  Spearow side-eyed them sharply.

  Delia cleared her throat quickly. "Oh! What I meant was… handsome."

  Spearow gave a satisfied nod.

  Austin rolled his eyes—then suddenly felt small claws scratching at his pants. He looked down just in time to see a familiar tiny figure trying to climb up his leg. Grinning, he bent down and carefully scooped up Rattata, hoisting her up so that her small feet dangled in the air.

  "And this little lady," he said, holding her up with one hand, "is the fastest—"

  "Pika!"

  "Spear!"

  "Horsea!"

  A chorus of protests erupted from Pikachu, Spearow, and Horsea all at once.

  Austin didn't acknowledge them.

  "—and the most spunky member of the team."

  Rattata let out a triumphant squeak.

  Delia cooed. "Oh, she's precious! How about I make her a little hat? Something cute!"

  The moment she said it, the other Pokémon lost their minds.

  Pikachu stomped his tiny foot. "Pika!"

  Spearow flared his wings aggressively. "Spear!"

  Horsea bubbled loudly in protest. "Sseaaa!"

  "… I think you're gonna have to make hats for everyone."

  Delia giggled. "Of course, of course!" She booped Rattata's nose, making the tiny Pokémon's whiskers wiggle excitedly. "But the first one? That's for you, my little lady."

  Rattata chattered happily, already envisioning her new look. Austin set Rattata down and turned toward the small water bowl beside them.

  "And now," he said, carefully lifting up a small, wiggling Pokémon, "our newest member. And the future dragon of the team."

  Horsea.

  The tiny seahorse let out a cheerful trill, blinking up at Delia with big, innocent eyes.

  "How can something this cute turn into a ferocious dragon?"

  Tell that to Game Freak.

  Horsea twitched at that—then, without warning, sprayed a small jet of water straight at Delia's face.

  "Ah!"

  Delia yelped, stumbling back as drops of water dripped from her blouse.

  Rattata squeaked indignantly, as if saying, See?! Horsea's a future dragon!

  Austin, meanwhile, was holding back laughter.

  Delia sighed, pinching her earlobes. "Alright, alright! I apologize! I don't know much about Pokémon, but I'm sure you'll become a beautiful dragon. And when you do? I'll throw you the biggest party ever!"

  Horsea released a few happy bubbles, clearly forgiving her.

  "See? She gets me."

  Austin smiled before glancing around.

  "...Where's Vee?"

  Pikachu pointed toward the bathroom.

  Austin narrowed his eyes. "Vee, come out. I have someone special I want you to meet."

  "...Um."

  Austin frowned.

  He walked over, pushed the bathroom door open and a roll of toilet paper slowly unraveled onto the floor. There, in the middle of the absolute disaster zone, sat Vee —Umbreon, completely wrapped in toilet paper. It was everywhere—around his tail, tangled in his ears, draped around his neck like a ridiculous scarf. And, of course, he had a chunk of toilet paper hanging from his mouth, which he was very actively chewing.

  Austin sighed deeply.

  "And this," he said, "is Vee."

  Umbreon paused mid-chew.

  "The biggest troublemaker on the team."

  Umbreon slowly looked down.

  Delia covered her mouth, laughing.

  Austin exhaled, stepping forward and carefully untangling the paper.

  "But I love him," he murmured.

  Umbreon lifted his head slightly, blinking in surprise before softly nuzzling into Austin's hand.

  Delia watched the entire scene unfold, a gentle warmth settling in her chest.

  She didn't say anything. She just observed. The trust. The love. The unspoken understanding. And in that moment, Delia Ketchum knew she had nothing to worry about.

  Her son was growing into a fine young man.

  The rest of the day had been a blur of activity. With the tournament gaining more traction, Austin had found himself busier than ever. Delia had proven to be an absolute powerhouse when it came to selling T-shirts. Her natural charisma and enthusiasm had single-handedly doubled their sales, charming passersby and trainers alike. And, of course, his marketing strategy had worked brilliantly.

  A Pikachu in a buff Pikachu T-shirt?

  A Rattata sporting a tiny cap with her own face on it?

  The kids loved it. The media ate it up.

  With the local Cerulean news covering the tournament, the event had begun gaining massive popularity. At least fifty trainers had signed up, some even bragging about how they had traveled from Vermilion City just for the prize money. Austin, sitting at a makeshift registration table, was scribbling down trainer IDs onto the official league documentation.

  Everything was running smoothly.

  BANG.

  The sudden slam of a palm against the table jolted Austin from his paperwork.

  His eyes flicked up. Standing there, grinning like he had just won the lottery, was Gary Oak.

  "I caught it!"

  "…What?"

  "A Magikarp," Gary said, grinning wider.

  "…Okay?"

  "What do you mean, okay?! Don't you get it? Now I can do my own research on Magikarp!"

  Austin sighed, already sensing where this was going.

  "So what exactly," he said slowly, "are you planning to discover, Professor Gary?"

  The sarcasm was palpable. Gary, however, missed it entirely.

  "I'm glad you asked!" He crossed his arms, looking entirely too pleased with himself. "I'm gonna research how Magikarp can breathe out of water."

  Austin stared at him for a long moment. Then, without looking up, he casually picked up another entry form and continued writing.

  "Already been done."

  Gary blinked. "What?"

  Austin didn't even pause. "That research was conducted by Professor Quincy T. Quackenpoker in 1973. Published in The International Journal of Aquatic Pokémon Studies."

  Gary's jaw slightly unhinged. "…You're making that up."

  Austin finally glanced up, giving him a flat look.

  "Gary," he said, "I spent days researching major scientific studies on Magikarp to see if anyone had ever documented a Dragon Rage-capable one. Do you really think I wouldn't have come across something as basic as respiration studies?"

  There was a beat of silence.

  "…Well, whatever," Gary huffed, crossing his arms. "I'll just do research on something else."

  Austin smirked, returning to his paperwork.

  "Uh-huh. You do that, Professor Gary."

  "Sign me up."

  Austin raised an eyebrow. "For what?"

  "The tournament, obviously," Gary said.

  "You're serious?"

  "Of course I am. I've already beaten Brock. This'll be easy money."

  Before Austin could respond, a loud buzzer echoed through the gym. Gary immediately went on alert, his hand instinctively reaching for a Poké Ball. "What's that? Trouble?"

  "No. It means someone defeated Misty."

  Gary stiffened. "Wait—what? So… the tournament's over?"

  "It means the winner moves on to the second round."

  Gary's confusion was visible, so Austin leaned back, deciding to spell it out for him.

  "See," Austin began, "the tournament is divided into two sections. The first round is where trainers fight Misty. If they win, they qualify for the second round—the actual tournament."

  "Wait… so fighting Misty wasn't the tournament?"

  "Nope."

  Gary's immediate scowl told him everything he needed to know.

  "Oh," Austin said, "you thought fighting Misty was the whole thing, didn't you?"

  Gary's huff was all the confirmation needed.

  "Doesn't matter," the boy muttered. "I'll just win the whole thing."

  Austin chuckled, sliding a registration form across the table. "Well, good luck with that, Professor Gary."

  As Gary scribbled down his details, Austin went back over his mental checklist.

  The main appeal of this tournament was simple: money. A solid prize pool ensured that high-level trainers from other cities were showing up, thinking they had a shot at easy cash.

  Austin had structured the competition so that Round 1 forced every trainer to battle Misty—which meant that Misty racked up legitimate wins, boosting her battle record to apply for the gym leader position.

  And Round 2? It became a battle royale between the best trainers—where Austin himself could enter.

  And if he entered? He'd win—which meant he kept the prize money.

  Austin bit back a smirk.

  This whole tournament was a money-printing machine, and he wasn't about to lose a single cent of investment. And on top of all that, Damien was bringing Charmander straight to him.

  It was almost too perfect.

  Almost.

  Because, of course, nothing in life was ever that easy.

  "Excuse me."

  Austin looked up to see a furious-looking teenager, around fifteen, stomping toward him.

  "Yeah?" Austin said, already bracing himself.

  The guy scowled. "My wallet got stolen."

  "…Stolen?"

  "Yeah!" The teen ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "I was talking to this girl near your T-shirt stand—she was super cute, right? I was gonna buy her a shirt 'cause she liked one, and then—" He gestured wildly. "—boom! My wallet's just gone!"

  Austin sighed. Of course, life couldn't just let him run his tournament in peace.

  No.

  There always had to be something. Because, apparently, in reality, success wasn't a straight road—it was a twisting, turning mess full of problems.

  And right now?

  He had a pickpocket to deal with.