Green scrolled through the stolen Team Rocket files, her expression unreadable as lines of data scrolled past. The encrypted files weren't just mission reports, they were blueprints for something big.

  Something dangerous.

  Austin sat beside her, eyes scanning the dense layers of information, packed with coded transmissions, personnel movements, and operational schedules. It was a mess of logistical jargon, but amidst all the noise, one name kept showing up.

  Ariana.

  Austin's grip on the desk tightened. That was it. Team Rocket wasn't in Cerulean City for recruitment, smuggling, or even the usual back-alley dealings.

  They were here for her.

  With Ariana's high ranking, she had been processed through Pewter City Detention Center, awaiting transport to Indigo Penitentiary, Kanto's most secure prison, built to hold high-profile criminals too dangerous to be kept anywhere else.

  Escape from Indigo? Impossible.

  Escape before getting there? Much easier.

  Austin read through the attached operational report, his stomach sinking.

  The transport schedule was airtight: April 1st: Ariana would be moved from Pewter City Detention Center at 0700 hours. The convoy would take Route 4, cutting through Mt. Moon Tunnel for additional security. Upon exiting near Cerulean Outskirts, the transport would continue north along Route 10, through Rock Tunnel—a long, winding path notorious for its low visibility and isolation.

  Finally, they'd reach Lavender Town, where a second team would transfer her to a League-secured vessel bound for Indigo Penitentiary.

  A small footnote at the end of the report stood out: Expected civilian interference: Minimal. Threat of League involvement: Low.

  Austin exhaled sharply. They knew everything. The exact route. The security detail. The personnel in charge.

  Team Rocket had inside men. His mind raced. Why Rock Tunnel? It made sense from a security standpoint—fewer civilians, natural barriers preventing outside interference, only one clear entrance and exit.

  "A collapse."

  Austin glanced up as Green tapped the screen, highlighting key points along the tunnel route.

  "This is where they'll do it," she murmured. Her finger traced two specific locations on the map. "A controlled detonation here..." She moved slightly forward. "And here."

  A slow realization crept up Austin's spine. "If they blow these supports, the tunnel comes down."

  "Yup," Green confirmed. "And not just a partial collapse either—a full cave-in, under thirty seconds." She leaned back, arms crossed. "Fast enough for a psychic to teleport in, grab Ariana, and blink out before anyone even realizes what's happening."

  Austin's jaw clenched.

  The transport team would be trapped. Buried. Kanto would scramble, believing it to be a tragic accident, diverting attention to rescue operations. Meanwhile, Ariana would already be gone. No direct assaults. No unnecessary casualties. A clean, precise operation.

  Austin exhaled slowly, his mind racing. The plan was airtight—calculated, efficient. But why now?

  Ariana wasn't just another grunt, but she wasn't exactly irreplaceable either. Giovanni wasn't the type to gamble big on sentiment. He preferred to operate from the shadows, keeping Team Rocket's true strength hidden.

  But this?

  This was reckless. This was high-risk for minimal gain. It didn't add up unless this wasn't about Ariana at all. Unless this was about sending a message. Austin's thoughts darkened as he landed on the only explanation that made sense.

  Mewtwo.

  Had Giovanni already created it? The timelines were messy.

  In the anime, Mewtwo was fully developed, controlled by advanced technology. In the manga, Mewtwo was unstable, needing Blaine's DNA to stabilize its power.

  Which one was it?

  Austin didn't know. If Team Rocket was already making moves this big, it meant they were confident. It meant something had changed. And he had a sinking feeling that Mewtwo was at the center of it.

  "So," Green drawled, "what's the plan, superhero?"

  "...What?"

  "You heard me," she said, smirking. "You're gonna stop it, right?"

  Austin didn't answer. Green raised an eyebrow. "Or are you just gonna let it happen?"

  Austin exhaled slowly. The logical thing to do was walk away. This was way bigger than him. Stopping a high-level Rocket operation—especially if they had Mewtwo—was suicidal. But putting your head down was going to lead to an even bigger problem later on.

  Austin's eyes darkened.

  Green noticed the shift. Her smirk faltered. "Wait, you're actually thinking about it?" Austin stayed silent because in his heart he already knew. He couldn't ignore this. But the real question was... Could he afford to get involved?

  The communication room was dark, illuminated only by the glow of monitors lining the walls. Executives of Team Rocket appeared on screen, their figures shadowed by poor lighting; Proton, Archer, Petrel, and, of course, the Boss himself, Giovanni.

  At the center of it all stood Sabrina, silent and unreadable, her arms folded as she listened to the debriefing.

  Proton was already running his mouth. "How the hell did you let a kid infiltrate the base and steal classified intel?!"

  Sabrina turned to him, eyes cold. "Oh, you got me," she drawled, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Next time, I'll personally invite the thief in, offer her tea, and hand-deliver the documents myself. Would that make you feel better?"

  "You..."

  "Enough," Archer cut in.

  Petrel chuckled, arms behind his head. "Relax, Proton. If you were gettin' robbed by the Thousand-Faced Girl, I'd bet you woulda performed worse."

  "You know the thief?"

  Petrel gave a lazy shrug. "Yeah, she's made quite the name for herself in Kanto. Always buying up information, always looking for something. I even offered her a spot in Team Rocket once."

  That caught everyone's attention.

  "You offered her a position?" Proton asked, incredulous.

  "Hey, when I see talent, I know it," Petrel said smoothly. "She turned me down, though. Said she doesn't work under anyone."

  "Hmph." Archer leaned back. "Then this wasn't an attack. This was a job."

  "And we were just in her way," Proton muttered.

  The room fell into silence, the only sound the soft purring of Persian from Giovanni's screen. Then, finally, the Boss spoke.

  "Sabrina," Giovanni's voice was calm, commanding, absolute. "Anything of value from the thief's mind?"

  Sabrina hesitated. "...It's complicated."

  A long pause.

  "Elaborate."

  Sabrina exhaled. "Her mind was... protected." She frowned, recalling the sensation. "Something was there—a dark presence, parasitic. Not a normal psychic barrier. I've never encountered anything like it."

  Silence.

  Persian's tail flicked. Giovanni leaned back, fingers steepled under his chin. "Petrel," he said smoothly. "Track her down. Ensure she doesn't sell what she stole."

  "You got it, Boss."

  "With the possibility that this 'accident' may result in complications, I want captains from each division sent to assist Sabrina in the retrieval mission."

  "Understood." Archer nodded.

  "On it," Proton muttered.

  "I'll see which one of my guys I can spare," Petrel added casually.

  One by one, the screens flickered off, leaving only Giovanni and Sabrina.

  The boss studied her for a long moment.

  "You were distracted during the meeting," he observed.

  Sabrina flinched internally. "...Apologies, Boss," she said smoothly. "I've just seen... too many strange things lately."

  "Hmph." Giovanni's fingers tapped against the desk. "Take a few days off," he commanded. "Get your mind in the right headspace."

  A pause.

  Then, before she could stop herself, the words slipped out.

  "...Maybe I should go on a date."

  The air in the room froze.

  Sabrina immediately regretted it. She wasn't sure why she said it. She wasn't even sure what she meant. But there it was. Hanging. Waiting. She stared at Giovanni, expecting disapproval. Instead Giovanni smiled but it wasn't a pleasant smile. It was a knowing one. A calculating one. A Persian watching a Rattata walk willingly into a trap. "If it helps you succeed in your mission," he said smoothly, "then by all means..." He tilted his head, voice dark with amusement. "Go on a date."

  Sabrina didn't know why, but the way he said it made her feel like she had just made a deal she didn't understand.

  She swallowed hard, nodding once. "Understood, Boss."

  The screen flickered off.

  Meanwhile... Giovanni leaned back in his chair, stroking Persian's fur, eyes narrowed in thought. His executives were soldiers, powerful in their own ways—but loyalty only went so far.

  But this?

  This was something different. Sabrina was strong. One of his best.

  But now?

  Now, she was interested in something. Or rather, someone. A small smirk curled at the corner of his lips. Perfect. A strong soldier was valuable. But a strong soldier with emotional ties? That was something far more useful.

  "Power alone is never enough, Sabrina," Giovanni mused, his voice barely above a whisper. "You need more than just loyalty..." His eyes darkened. "You need something to lose."

  The lights dimmed slightly, a soft blue wash gliding over the stage like moonlight over water. From the center platform, a spotlight hit Daisy as she strutted forward, sequins shimmering across her aquamarine outfit, her heels clicking with practiced poise.

  The audience roared.

  Not clapped—roared. Daisy paused, letting the sound wash over her, eyes glistening. For a moment, she stood there, taking it all in. This… this was what they'd worked for. The lights, the stage, the eyes of Kanto watching. She was shaking but not from fear. From pride. Raising the mic to her lips, her voice rang out like a bell.

  "Cerulean City!"

  The crowd erupted louder. She had to pause, laughing into the mic as the volume peaked.

  "Okay, okay, enough! I know I'm stunning, but let's not make it too obvious!"

  Laughter followed. Then quiet.

  Daisy smiled again, softer now. "We just want to say thank you for watching, for cheering, and for believing in us. Over the last week, our shows have gained media attention across Kanto. And thanks to all of you... we, the Cerulean Sisters, have received official offers from the Pokémon League."

  More cheers. Even a few gasps.

  Daisy held her hand up to quiet them. Her voice dropped to something reverent.

  "This isn't just about us. It's not just about shows, or beauty, or even battles. It's about Cerulean City. This is the first step into a new future for Kanto—one where performance and strength blend together. Where creativity has a place beside power."

  She turned slightly, scanning the crowd, every person watching her like she was royalty.

  "This is the accomplishment of Cerulean."

  They roared. She felt like a queen, standing there in that sea of admiration. She brought the mic up again, eyes gleaming.

  "But," she said, "that's not all for tonight's announcement."

  The crowd hushed instantly.

  "We know this past week has been a feast of battles. Our pride and joy, Misty, the fiercest little sister in all of Kanto, has stunned us all with her strength and heart. Trainers from all over have come to challenge her. But like the waters of Cerulean, her defenses are calm, strong, and deeper than they appear."

  A pause, then: "But due to the overwhelming number of challengers... we're changing things up!"

  Drums sounded from the stage lighting system.

  "Starting today, we are introducing a double battle format for Misty's challenges! That's right, two trainers will now take her on at once! And if they win, both of them advance to the next stage of the tournament."

  Another burst of applause, surprise, and energy ran through the gym.

  "So, trainers," Daisy said, voice gleaming with drama. "Get your partners ready. Because the water's rising."

  The spotlight dimmed briefly. Then flared back to full intensity.

  "Now then... let's get this party started!"

  The crowd detonated with excitement, their cheers shaking the rafters.

  Meanwhile...

  Austin sat at his booth near the entrance, propping his chin on his palm while calmly sipping on a soda like he hadn't just orchestrated this entire spectacle from the shadows.

  He watched as the crowd lost its collective mind and Daisy basked in glory like a natural-born star. That should keep League eyes locked here, he thought. And if Misty racks up enough wins... The League would send an Elite Four member to test her.

  Which meant he wouldn't have to personally stop Team Rocket from breaking out Arianna.

  Delegation, he thought with a small smirk. It's a lost art.

  That was the whole point of rushing the tournament and helping Misty push through the requirements. Get her gym status locked. Let the League take over when it got messy. That's what Elite Four members were for, after all.

  He leaned back as murmurs rose near the door. Curious, he followed Pikachu's alert eyes just in time to spot Jessie and Sabrina, barely concealed in the shadows near the entrance.

  "He's got a Dark-type with him," Sabrina hissed to Jessie.

  Jessie blinked. "And?"

  "That matters," Sabrina snapped, narrowing her eyes as her gaze flicked toward the Umbreon curled smugly around Austin's shoulders like some kind of oversized fur stole. Vee blinked lazily, lifted a paw, and licked it with deliberate sass.

  Pikachu, on the table, growled. Pika...

  Jealous. Definitely jealous.

  Sabrina shifted uncomfortably, the pressure of Umbreon's anti-psychic presence making her tense.

  "I think he didn't see us," Jessie whispered hopefully.

  Austin didn't move, but scratched Pikachu behind the ear before glancing toward the two Rocket agents without turning his head.

  The doors burst open with a dramatic swing, nearly knocking over a stack of tournament brochures.

  "Uh… hi?"

  "...The wind carries many rumors."

  Austin paused. "Okay?"

  "Rumors… about quiet boys with sharp tongues," she added, narrowing her eyes. "And strong Umbreons."

  Austin glanced at Vee, who was currently trying to knock Pikachu's ketchup packet off the desk. "Right..."

  "I've decided," Sabrina said, in a tone like she was selecting a new piece of furniture, "that you... may possess utility."

  "I—what?"

  "I mean, not usefulness in the cold sense, but… well-rounded compatibility." Her voice caught on the last word like she was trying to say something sentimental and forgot how emotions worked halfway through.

  "Wait… what are you even—?"

  "Hypothetically," she said, holding up one gloved finger. "If a certain high-ranking person were interested in, say… recreational activities… with a civilian... in a controlled setting..."

  "Recreational..."

  "Like… a location with... air conditioning. Food. Maybe… video games."

  "...Are you asking me to hang out at the arcade?"

  "I would not... object to the term 'arcade.'"

  Austin blinked once. Twice. "Are you asking me out?"

  Sabrina visibly glitched.

  "NO," she barked. "I mean—YES. I mean—FORGET WHAT I SAID. I have... matters to attend to."

  She spun on her heel like she was executing a retreat maneuver, then bonked her head directly against the pillar next to the door. She hissed, tried to pretend it didn't happen, and briskly stormed outside.

  "...What the hell just happened," Austin muttered under his breath.

  He looked around. Jessie was now pretending to dust a decorative plant.

  "You said you were helping out a sick friend," Austin said flatly.

  Jessie grinned nervously. "Would you believe me if I said the friend was love sick?"

  Austin's deadpan look didn't change.

  "Alright, alright, she came to me this morning," Jessie admitted, pulling him to the side. "Said she wanted to go on a date with you. Me being the charitable and fantastic employee I am—"

  "Jessie."

  "I figured if I helped her out, maybe I could get promoted! Or at least not turned into a Kadabra pretzel the next time I spill coffee in her boots."

  Austin stood in silence, his thoughts chasing themselves in circles.

  Sabrina liked him.

  Let's just sit with that for a second.

  Sabrina.

  Psychic. Arrogant. Terrifying. Definitely a criminal. Liked. Him.

  That sentence alone made his brain glitch like a Porygon on dial-up internet.

  The how was a mystery. Their first interaction had involved him mentally bombarding her with increasingly absurd and deeply inappropriate fantasies to keep her from reading his mind. That should've been an automatic disqualification from the dating pool.

  And yet…

  She still said yes.

  Which, objectively, should be a red flag the size of the Indigo Plateau. But there was something about the way she left. Flustered. Fidgety. Very much not in control.

  She wasn't manipulating. She wasn't threatening. She was awkward. And somehow that was worse because it meant she was being genuine, and that made her dangerous in a whole new, utterly confusing, emotionally compromised kind of way.

  Still, maybe he could use this. Learn something. Get intel. Make a connection. Spy on Team Rocket from the inside.

  He found her on a bench just outside the Cerulean Gym courtyard—curled forward, elbows on knees, face buried in her hands like she'd just flunked out of prom.

  Austin approached quietly and sat next to her, keeping just enough distance to show he wasn't about to make this weirder than it already was.

  "You know," he started, voice casual, "we've had some… really interesting first impressions."

  She didn't move.

  "But I don't think we've actually introduced ourselves."

  Still no answer.

  "My name's Ash," he added, "but my friends call me Austin. You can call me that if you want to."

  A pause, then, muffled: "I'm not your friend."

  "Would you like to be?"

  That made her glance up. Just barely. Her expression was hard to read. But her lips twitched like she was debating the answer with a council of inner demons.

  Then she nodded. "Yes."

  "Cool," he said with a shrug. "Then I'll see you at the arcade tomorrow."

  She blinked, clearly not expecting that.

  Her blush was so faint you might miss it, but it was there. A rare bloom of red on a face more used to resting murder-glare.

  "…Yeah," she murmured.

  That night, Austin sat at the dinner table—his thoughts spinning like a slow, chaotic pinwheel.

  He felt weird.

  His chest felt light. His stomach fluttered like a freshly hatched Butterfree. And his brain kept replaying that moment—the way Sabrina looked up at him when he said she could call him Austin. Was this excitement? Was this what it felt like when you maybe had a date? His past life hadn't exactly been a romance anime. More like a background NPC in a dating sim. So the idea of someone actually liking him—even a terrifying mind-reading ice queen—was… kinda nice?

  Was that romantic? Or just deeply concerning?

  He wasn't sure.

  "What are you giggling about?"

  Austin snapped upright like someone had hit his mental reset button. "N-Nothing."

  He cleared his throat, trying not to look suspicious. "So! Uh, how were the double battles today?"

  Misty's eyes lingered on him a second longer than necessary, but she finally let it go. "Your plan worked. Perfectly."

  Good. That meant the Moxie Loop was still running. Gyarados would KO the weaker partner's Pokémon first, get a Moxie boost, then steamroll the opponents in a glorious flex of power. Clean. Effective. League-approved.

  "I think just a few more days and we'll have enough wins to start Round 2," Misty added, cheeks a little pink.

  Daisy, Violet, and Lily leaned in, sharing conspiratorial grins.

  Austin narrowed his eyes. "What's with the faces? Do you have something planned?"

  "Nope. You wouldn't get it." Lily grinned. "It's a girl thing."

  He raised an eyebrow but let it slide. Then—bzzz. The burner phone. One new message from Green. Come up to the room, I'm waiting.

  "Alright," he said, stretching dramatically. "Time to turn in. Busy day tomorrow."

  "You're way too busy for a ten-year-old," Violet said.

  "I'm just dreading the day I have to start doing taxes," he muttered, slipping away.

  As he walked toward the exit, he didn't notice the way the girls exchanged more glances. The whispers. The scheming.

  Because while Austin was planning for tomorrow… They were planning something else entirely.

  Sabrina hated dresses.

  No, she feared them. They made her feel exposed. Not physically, but emotionally. Vulnerable. Like wearing one meant she was pretending to be someone she wasn't. Or worse, admitting she wanted to be.

  But this morning, Jessie had practically dragged her into a changing room with a pile of pastels and ruffles and said, "You want to impress the boy or not?"

  So here she was. In a soft lavender sundress with white ribbon straps and the faintest shimmer at the hem. Her long hair, usually swept to the side or tangled with aura-induced static, had been carefully brushed and tied back with a pale blue ribbon. She even wore lip gloss.

  She hated how much she liked it.

  And when Austin saw her and said, "Hey there, Sabrina, you look amazing,"

  …she nearly shut down.

  "Thank you," she replied, defaulting to neutral. "I got Jessie to help me be normal."

  "Guess I'm not the normal one between us, eh?" Austin said with a chuckle, patting the sleepy Umbreon strapped to his chest in a baby carrier like a very proud, very weird parent.

  She stared at the Pokémon, and her stomach tightened. The presence of a Dark-type—especially one so close—felt like nails on a chalkboard to her aura. Everything about it disrupted her psychic flow. Even now, she could feel a light pulsing in the base of her skull. Still, she tried to raise a hand and pet it.

  She flinched.

  Austin caught it instantly. "Something wrong?"

  Sabrina hesitated. Her pride bristled at the idea of being seen as weak. But… something in his voice wasn't judgment. Just concern.

  "Sorry," she muttered. "I've got a headache. Took something for it. I'm okay. Let's just go."

  He nodded, and together, they walked into the arcade.

  It was too bright and too loud.

  Children shrieked with laughter as tokens clinked into slots. Neon lights blinked in and out of rhythm. Somewhere, a Gengar animatronic did a bizarre little jig while vomiting tickets.

  And above it all: the thoughts.

  Oh, man, I'm gonna beat this score! She's watching me, act cool, act cool! Do you think that's her boyfriend? He looks so scrawny...

  Sabrina flinched. She tried to close her mind, but her powers were too raw, too exposed. The environment was like trying to meditate inside a fireworks factory.

  Austin didn't seem to notice.

  He was guiding her toward a claw machine, eyes bright with mischief.

  "You ever try this one?" he asked.

  She shook her head.

  He fed in a token and leaned forward, turning the crank with dramatic precision. Sabrina watched, uncertain. It was stupid. Childish. Meaningless.

  And then he won a Pikachu plush, held it up in triumph, and turned to offer it to her like it was a legendary prize.

  She blinked.

  "Pika?" he said, imitating the voice badly.

  And she laughed. Not a scoff. Not a sarcastic breath. A genuine, startled giggle escaped her lips before she could stop it.

  She pressed her hand to her mouth, stunned.

  Austin grinned. "There we go. Mission success."

  They bounced from game to game—or rather, Austin bounced while Sabrina observed like she was analyzing a foreign ritual. She didn't win much, didn't try much, but she followed.

  She was… curious.

  Because this boy wasn't what she expected.

  The first time she met him, he had projected ridiculous, borderline perverted images into his mind like landmines. She thought he was just another arrogant brat with too much confidence and too little filter.

  But now… he was kind.

  He was patient.

  He noticed when she flinched. He slowed down when the noise got too much. He never mocked her for not knowing how to play the games. He just smiled, nudged her forward, and made space for her to figure things out. Even the Dark-type on his chest glared at her less now.

  When it came time to sit down and eat, Sabrina picked at her pizza.

  It was warm. Cheesy. Probably fine.

  But the voices had started to creep in again.

  Is she okay? She looks pale. Did she even smile at all today? Bet she's too good for him. I'd never date a guy like that.

  She clenched her teeth.

  Austin had gone off to the prize booth and returned, holding something in his hand—a small crystal on a silver chain. Purple, faintly glowing. The label on it had read: "Psychic-Type Stone."

  "Got you something," he said, smiling sheepishly. "Thought it looked like you. Mysterious and cool. And hey, it was either this or a Machoke stress ball, so..."

  He held it out.

  Sabrina stared at the crystal in his hand, small and glowing faintly violet; a playful trinket, a prize from a game—but to her, it wasn't just that.

  He had picked something for her.

  Not out of strategy. Not out of manipulation. Just… thoughtfulness.

  He had seen her, not as the Executive of a criminal syndicate, not as the psychic freak people whispered about, not as the cold weapon Giovanni molded—but as a girl. A person. And in that moment, her entire mind turned on itself.

  It started with a flicker. A quiet confusion.

  Why is he being kind?

  Then it became questions. Emotions. Doubt.

  Why is he looking at me like that? Why does my chest feel tight? Why can't I breathe like I usually do around people?

  It wasn't like battle—where anger, focus, fear, and control danced like old friends in her head. These emotions were new. Soft. Unfamiliar. And she'd never been trained for them. No one had ever trained her for affection.

  For vulnerability.

  For joy.

  And with those emotions rising, the walls of her discipline, her control, her carefully monitored thoughts—they cracked.

  And in rushed everything.

  Every heartbeat in the room. Every whisper. Every flicker of judgment, awe, attraction, curiosity. Every thought, emotion, impulse around her hit all at once—a tidal wave of voices and desires crashing into her psyche like shrapnel.

  Too much. Too loud. Too human.

  Her throat tightened as her vision blurred.

  "Shut up," she whispered.

  "A little too bright?" Austin asked, mistaking the comment.

  "SHUT UP!"

  Her voice rang out like a whipcrack. Her aura—always compressed, restrained, caged by years of training—snapped.

  The table flew back, flipping into a nearby row of pinball machines. Austin was thrown with it, tumbling through a shower of sparks and flashing lights. The psychic pulse rippled through the arcade—screens went black, lights flickered, the Gengar animatronic sputtered and died mid-dance.

  Everyone turned.

  Everyone stared.

  Sabrina stood there, trembling, her hands clenched into fists. Austin lay sprawled behind a busted token machine, blinking dazedly.

  "...I liked the necklace," she whispered.

  Then she turned and fled, boots echoing against tile, her cloak flaring behind her like a comet.

  Outside, Sabrina gasped for breath as she leaned against the side of the building. Stupid. Stupid. STUPID. She wasn't meant to do this. She couldn't do this. She wanted to—and that made it worse.

  He was nice—and now he probably thought she was insane.

  She felt the tears coming and forced them back. You can't cry, she told herself. You're too strong for that. But in the silence of the night, the soft weight of a necklace still clutched in her trembling fingers...made her wonder if maybe, just maybe...

  She didn't want to be strong all the time. Just understood. Maybe even by a weirdo with a baby-carried Umbreon and too much patience for his own good.

  Austin burst through the arcade doors, the sound of the aftermath still ringing behind him—but none of that mattered. Sabrina was gone. Without hesitation, he released all his Pokémon in one smooth motion, Poké Balls clicking open like flares in the dim afternoon light.

  "Guys, I need your help," he said, urgency in every syllable. "Sabrina's missing. She ran off after... well, you saw. If you find her, let her know I want to talk. Just talk. Tell her I'm not mad, and I'm here. Meet back here in five."

  Pikachu gave a salute and bolted toward the rooftops. Rattata dashed into alleyways, tail flicking. Vee lingered just long enough to give Austin a determined look, then melted into the shadows like a wraith.

  Austin took off in the other direction, checking alleyways, side streets, scanning every face in the crowd. But Sabrina was nowhere. Not surprising—for someone with her abilities, hiding was second nature.

  So he pulled out the burner phone Green had insisted he carry—a necessary evil for a growing list of private contacts—and called Jessie. Then James.

  Finally, after some theatrical groaning and dramatic sighing on their end, he got what he needed: Sabrina's number.

  He dialed. No answer. He tried again. And again. And again. On the fifth try, the line finally clicked. A voice, guarded and raw, came through. "Who is this?"

  "Sabrina, it's me. Austin. Are you okay?"

  A pause.

  "I'm fine," she said stiffly. "Just... got overwhelmed. Couldn't control my powers. I'm sorry if you got hurt."

  Austin let out a breath, trying to keep it light. "Nah, I'm tougher than I look. My ego's a little bruised, but that happens anytime I get launched into a claw machine."

  No laugh. Just silence.

  "Can you tell me where you are?" he asked gently.

  "Why?"

  "So we can finish our date."

  "I don't want to," she replied, but there was no bite in it.

  Austin tilted his head. "Don't want to? Or are you afraid?"

  A beat passed.

  "...Both."

  His chest ached at the honesty in her voice. She sounded so small. So far from the confident, stone-faced Rocket executive he remembered from the manga.

  He swallowed. "I knew you were a psychic when we first met."

  Her voice sharpened. "What?"

  "I've met psychics before. I could tell. That's why I did what I did—why I projected those... weird thoughts. I wasn't trying to be a creep. I was trying to guard myself. I didn't know what you wanted."

  She was quiet again.

  "I didn't lie to you, Sabrina," Austin said. "I just protected myself. But I see you now—the real you—and I'm not afraid."

  Silence.

  Then... a knock.

  He turned.

  She stood outside the nearby phone booth, shoulders hunched, tear-streaked cheeks flushed from crying. He stepped out slowly, soft as a breeze. "How're you feeling?"

  "Better," she whispered, voice raw. "Still... weird. But better."

  He nodded. "Let's finish our date. Just somewhere quieter."

  Sabrina hesitated, then gave a small, brave smile. "Can we get different clothes too?"

  Austin grinned. "Sure. Whatever makes you feel happy."

  Her smile faltered a little. "Does a freak like me even deserve to be happy? That seems selfish. I want to be selfish."

  Austin blinked at her, then said quietly, "Maybe the truth is... there's a little selfishness in every happiness. Wanting something for yourself doesn't make you a freak. It just makes you human."

  And without thinking too hard, he pulled her into a gentle hug. She clung to him like she hadn't realized how much she needed it.

  Later, they found a quiet boutique tucked into a side street where Sabrina changed out of her flashier outfit and into something more low-key: faded jeans, a soft lavender hoodie, and a dark grey beanie that slouched just enough to make her look like a tired college student.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Austin didn't say much—just offered a thumbs-up when she emerged.

  "You look great."

  "You don't have to lie," she muttered, fidgeting with the sleeves.

  "I'm not lying," he said honestly. "I mean it. You look like... you."

  She smiled.

  They ended their night with a gondola ride, renting one of the small boats that drifted lazily through the canal that ran through Cerulean's park district. As they glided across the moonlit water, Sabrina sipped her coffee and leaned against the railing, watching the ripples pass.

  Austin, on the other hand, was struggling to row.

  "Okay, I think I've got it now—nope—nope, we're spinning again—"

  Sabrina raised a hand. The oar floated in place, turned smoothly, and guided them forward like an invisible hand was steering the stars.

  Austin sighed. "I could've done that."

  Sabrina smirked. "It's my date too. Let me carry some of the weight."

  He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Fair."

  As the boat drifted into a more quiet bend in the canal, surrounded by willow trees and lantern light, they both fell into a silence—not awkward, but warm. Restful.

  "Austin," she said, voice quiet. "Can you tell me more about the psychics you've met?"

  "You want to meet them?"

  Sabrina nodded slowly. "Yes. Being born a psychic is... one in a million. It would be good to know people who see the world the way I do."

  He smiled faintly, letting his gaze wander upward toward the starlit sky. "There's a girl. In Viridian. Her name's Yellow. Psychic, but gentle. She could understand Pokémon—even heal them. Rare kind of person."

  He pictured her clearly in his mind—that yellow poncho, that ever-present smile.

  "I could show you an image," Austin offered, tapping his temple. "If you want to peek."

  Sabrina tensed slightly. "No," she said. "I don't want to read your mind."

  "What? Is it too perverted in there?"

  Sabrina rolled her eyes. "No. Maybe. But… I'll take your word for it."

  There was a beat of silence. The breeze tugged gently at Sabrina's hoodie, her hair shifting like a curtain across her cheek. She didn't push it away.

  "Thanks," Austin said. "But I've been wondering… why did you even want to go on this date? You know—considering, uh, that first encounter we had."

  Sabrina didn't answer right away. She stared out over the dark water, eyes unreadable.

  "You don't have to say if you don't want to," Austin said quickly, already regretting the question.

  But then, she spoke.

  "Freak. Monster. Cold. Emotionless. Loner." I've heard—or rather, felt—those thoughts directed at me more times than I can count," she said softly. "People don't trust me. I don't blame them. Who'd want to be friends with someone who can hear what you think?"

  Austin said nothing. He just listened.

  "I don't have the kind of power to read minds like a book—not unless someone's thinking really loud. But that doesn't stop people from pulling away. Even before I say a word, they think I'm a danger." She gave a bitter smile. "Which I suppose I am."

  Austin frowned.

  "And then you," Sabrina continued. "Despite your… colorful imagination..." she gave him a sidelong glance, just short of smirking, "you didn't run. You didn't flinch. You talked to me like a person. You saw me. That's… rare."

  She hesitated, then whispered, almost to herself: "I realized that we accept the love we think we deserve."

  Austin's heart clenched. His throat went dry. She actually believed that? Without thinking, he reached over and gently took her hand in his.

  "Sabrina," he said. "You deserve to be someone's first choice. You deserve to be cherished—not tolerated. Not kept at arm's length. Chosen. Not settled for."

  Sabrina's head dipped. Her cheeks turned a deep crimson, but she didn't pull her hand away. She squeezed his fingers instead. They drifted in silence, letting the water carry them—not needing words. Just warmth.

  Peace never lasted long. But this moment was perfect.

  Later, as the gondola bumped gently against the dock, Austin climbed out first and held out a hand.

  Sabrina looked like she didn't want to move. She clutched the edge of the seat, watching the moonlight shimmer over the canal.

  "I'd like to stay on the water a little longer," she murmured. "This… this was nice. Thank you."

  "I'm glad you had fun." He offered a quiet smile. "I hope you find even better dates in the future."

  She blinked, startled. "Wait, do you… do you want to go on a second one?"

  Austin rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know. You and I have a lot to deal with. I'll probably be leaving Cerulean soon. Continuing my journey."

  Sabrina raised her hand, and a faint pink glow hovered around the Pokédex on his hip. It floated gently into her hand as she typed something in. "If you ever have the time… call me," she said, handing it back.

  Austin took it, their fingers brushing. "I will," he said softly.

  She nodded. "Goodbye, Austin."

  He turned to leave, walking up the path, the night air brushing against his cheeks.

  Behind him, Sabrina stood in the quiet. Watching.

  Her fingers tightened slightly over her chest. She could've looked into his mind. Could've found the answers—whether he really liked her, whether he saw her as anything more. But she didn't. Because trust was rare.

  "I deserve to be someone's first choice," she whispered, repeating his words like a mantra. "To be cherished. To be chosen."

  From the pocket of her hoodie, the little crystal Austin had won for her glinted beneath the moonlight, casting soft violet hues across her palm. Sabrina held it like it might vanish if she let go—not just a prize, but a reminder that someone had chosen something just for her. She wiped her cheeks, the tears still falling despite the small laugh that bubbled out of her. It was quiet, breathless—the kind of laugh that comes after holding too much in for too long.

  "Stupid boy," she muttered, voice shaking. "Making me cry over some cheap crystal."

  But it wasn't cheap. Not to her.

  She could still feel the warmth of his hand in hers, still hear the way he said her name like it meant something. And for the first time in what felt like forever, the constant buzz of thoughts in her head—the paranoia, the suspicion, the noise—had gone silent. Not because she forced it quiet. But because she felt safe.

  Clutching the necklace to her chest, Sabrina tilted her head back and stared at the stars. The night sky blurred with the last of her tears, the world softening at the edges.

  "See you soon, Austin," she whispered, barely loud enough for the wind to catch.

  Four Days Later…

  The stadium lights flared to life, casting a shimmering blue hue over the water-themed arena. The crowd packed into the Cerulean Gym roared as Daisy Waterflower stepped onto the diving board, her voice amplified by the mic in her hand, echoing across every speaker in the gym.

  "Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, travelers and trainers from all across Kanto!"

  The applause swelled.

  "Today marks something truly special," she continued, her voice proud and unwavering. "After weeks of grueling battles and unforgettable matchups, our own Misty Waterflower has achieved her milestone... one thousand official Pokémon battles!"

  The crowd erupted into cheers so loud, it rattled the rafters.

  Misty, sitting in the VIP section, covered her face with her hands, embarrassed by the attention—but she was smiling, too.

  Daisy held up a hand for silence.

  "With this milestone, Misty is now officially eligible to apply for Gym Leader of Cerulean City!"

  The crowd cheered louder.

  Gym leadership wasn't just a title. It was the lifeblood of a city. A Gym Leader brought a year-round influx of challengers, meaning consistent tourism, booming PokéMarts, hotel stays, restaurants packed nightly, and battle fans pouring into stadium seating.

  It wasn't just prestige. It was economic power. A Gym Leader changed a city's fate.

  "And now," Daisy added, voice rising, "we begin the second stage of our tournament!"

  Excitement crackled like static in the air.

  "A single-elimination bracket. All our trainers who bested Misty now compete among themselves; for pride, for glory, and of course... for the grand prize!"

  The crowd held its breath.

  "First up... you know him. You hate him. You love to hate him. The loudest mouth and maybe the most controversial win in this entire tournament..."

  A chorus of boos began before his name even dropped.

  "Damien Calloway!"

  Damien stepped out onto the battlefield in a tailored jacket, his hair wind-blown like he'd walked out of a shampoo commercial. He blew kisses to the audience—who responded with paper fans and foam Poké Balls being thrown at him.

  "That's right, let it out!" Damien called with a smug grin. "Can't boo me after I win!"

  "And his opponent..." Daisy's voice turned playful. "You know him, you've bought his merch, and if you've laughed at a buff Pikachu in a tank top... he probably sold it to you."

  The crowd laughed.

  "Give it up for Ash Ketchum!"

  Austin walked through the curtain, hands in his pockets, Pikachu on his shoulder. A familiar Pika rumbled from his partner, low and ready. He could feel the weight of eyes—some in support, some in suspicion.

  But Austin didn't care.

  Across the field, Damien scoffed. "You're bringing that thing into the ring?" He pointed at Pikachu with a smirk. "Hope you packed a toaster, 'cause I'm about to fry your little rat."

  Austin didn't flinch.

  Pikachu's eyes narrowed, lightning sparking at his cheeks.

  The referee raised the flag.

  "Begin!"

  "Flash Cannon, Scizor!" Damien barked.

  Scizor sprang forward, its metallic body gleaming as it charged up a dense orb of silver-white energy between its pincers.

  Austin remained calm. "Iron Tail."

  Pikachu's tail gleamed white-silver as he slammed it into the surface of the water arena with force that cracked the tiled basin below.

  WHOOSH.

  A towering geyser of water burst upward, splitting the pool clean down the middle—a mini tsunami crashing down on Scizor.

  The crowd gasped as the stadium misted with fine droplets. Water rained over the lights, catching beams of illumination and shimmering like crystal.

  Scizor stood, drenched, its wings sputtering from the sudden dousing.

  "Thunderbolt," Austin said simply.

  "Chu!"

  The lightning bolt exploded outward from Pikachu like a sunbeam made of fury. The electricity danced through the soaked battlefield, instantly attracted to the now waterlogged steel-type.

  Scizor's eyes widened.

  ZAAAAP!

  The lightning hit dead on. Sparks erupted across Scizor's carapace, and the air filled with the scent of ozone and scorched metal. The mantis-like Pokémon twitched once then collapsed.

  The referee stared for a second, blinking. Then raised the flag.

  "Scizor is unable to battle. Pikachu wins."

  The crowd lost it. Even the Cerulean Sisters were caught off guard.

  "Did that just happen?" Lily whispered.

  "I… I think he just one-shotted a Scizor." Violet's jaw was on the floor.

  "...Looks like our Austin is more powerful than we thought," Misty said with a smile.

  Damien, red in the face, hissed through his teeth. "Beginner's luck." He threw out his next Poké Ball. "Let's show them real power! Electabuzz, let's fry this mouse!"

  With a flash of light, the humanoid electric-type landed on the opposite side of the field. Sparks danced across its body as it pounded its fists together, sending out a wave of static.

  Austin simply raised an eyebrow.

  Pikachu tilted his head, unimpressed.

  Damien grinned. "Let's see how your rat handles real voltage."

  Austin smiled. "Funny," he said. "That's exactly what Pikachu was thinking."

  The referee blew the whistle again as the pool slowly refilled, gentle ripples forming over the surface. Austin exhaled, calm as ever, as he watched Damien practically bouncing with impatience on the other side of the battlefield.

  "Electabuzz! Use Thunder!" Damien barked, voice smug with overconfidence.

  Austin raised an eyebrow. Thunder? On a Pokémon with no specialized training for accuracy or field condition? That was… bold. No, it was lazy.

  Austin's lips tugged into a thin line as he thought, Daddy's money strikes again. That was all this was. Damien didn't train his Pokémon, didn't teach them combinations or timing. He just bought overpowered TMs, slapped them on, and expected to win by brute force.

  "Into the pool," Austin said quietly, "and use Double Strike."

  Pikachu nodded and leapt into the water with a splash, disappearing beneath the surface like a torpedo.

  Electricity gathered between Electabuzz's horns. Damien grinned wide, arms outstretched. "This'll finish your rat!"

  The Thunder blasted from Electabuzz in a chaotic bolt of yellow energy. It cracked across the pool with an earsplitting boom, lightning dancing across the surface like living flame. The explosion of steam and light made several in the audience shield their eyes.

  But when the smoke cleared… Pikachu was gone.

  "Where the hell is it?!" Damien yelled.

  Gasps and pointing fingers filled the stadium.

  "Above!"

  Dozens of Pikachu dropped from the sky like streaks of lightning, Double Team illusions casting flickering shadows across the battlefield.

  Damien panicked. "Giga Impact! Take them all out!"

  Austin barely held back a snort. Another TM? Seriously?

  Electabuzz charged forward with reckless power, fists pulled back, a spiraling purple aura consuming his form. He plowed through the air, bursting through the first illusion. Then another. Then another. And then a yellow blur leapt from the pool like a flash of judgment.

  The real Pikachu.

  "Sword Strike," Austin called.

  Pikachu's tail shimmered like molten steel as it swung wide, catching Electabuzz square in the jaw mid-charge. The impact rang out like a thunderclap.

  Electabuzz flew backwards, out of the arena, and straight into the psychic barrier that shimmered around the audience. His limp body slid down with a dull thud, unconscious.

  The referee raised his flag.

  "Electabuzz is unable to battle!"

  The crowd froze stunned then exploded into cheers.

  Austin let the applause wash over him, unmoving, not even smirking. But inside, he was thinking: He's got no strategy. No rhythm. He thinks throwing power at a problem fixes it. He doesn't train, he doesn't connect. He doesn't deserve Charmander.

  And then someone from the crowd shouted: "RELEASE CHARMANDER!"

  Green.

  She had waited for the exact moment Damien's ego was teetering—when he needed to reassert control, needed something familiar to cling to. And she offered it like bait on a hook.

  The crowd seized on it. The chant spread like wildfire. "Charmander! Charmander!"

  Damien blinked, caught in the momentum of a scene he no longer directed.

  All according to plan.

  "Go!" he shouted, tossing it out without thinking.

  Charmander landed with a light tap on the field. He blinked at the arena, then at the crowd, then at Pikachu.

  "Pika," the electric mouse said, beckoning with a smug flick of his paw.

  The referee gave the signal, but Damien didn't issue a command.

  He was too focused on sulking. But Charmander? He didn't wait. With determination in his eyes, the little lizard opened his mouth and fired a thick stream of green energy—Dragon Breath.

  Pikachu turned, glanced at Austin who nodded. Do it.

  The breath slammed into Pikachu with a powerful whump, sending him flying backwards, sparks trailing from his cheeks.

  "Pikachu!" Austin shouted as he caught the electric-type in his arms. His voice carried just enough panic to make the performance real. He smirked as he dusted Pikachu off.

  "Whew… didn't expect that. Looks like Electabuzz wore you out just enough to let Charmander finish you off…"

  The crowd erupted, their cheers booming like a tidal wave crashing through the gym.

  "Charmander! Charmander!" they cried, swept up in the sudden underdog story playing out before them. In their eyes, the little lizard had done the impossible—taking down the unbeatable Pikachu in a single, dazzling blast. They didn't see the strategy behind it. They didn't notice the moment Austin and Pikachu threw the fight.

  All they saw was heart, fire, and a comeback worth rooting for.

  The little lizard blinked, stunned. He turned slowly, seeing people clapping, kids cheering, adults standing, smiling, nodding. It was all for him. He lit up, tail flame blazing, mouth curling into a wide, innocent smile.

  Austin watched, his heart squeezing in a weird way. You deserve this, he thought. Even if your trainer doesn't.

  He gently set Pikachu down on the bench and pulled out another Poké Ball.

  "Let's keep this one going," he said aloud. "A battle of dragons, huh?" He smirked. Even if neither are real dragons. He tossed the Poké Ball. "Let's go, Horsea!"

  Damien took charge the only way he knew how by barking orders louder than his own insecurities. "Fire Blast!"

  Charmander flinched at the command. The little fire-type's tail flickered with uncertainty. Austin watched closely, lips pressed in a flat line.

  Of course… He gave him the TM.

  Damien had likely slapped the powerful move onto Charmander without care, expecting raw strength to replace actual training. Probably didn't even bother to teach him Flamethrower first. Charmander hadn't mastered the basics, and now he was expected to pull off an advanced technique like Fire Blast in front of a roaring crowd.

  It was like handing a violin to someone who'd never held a bow and expecting a symphony.

  Austin didn't need to say it aloud. He could see it in Charmander's eyes: the panic, the pressure, the overwhelming need to perform… to be enough. He hated this part. Hated seeing that look.

  "Water Gun!" Austin commanded sharply, the words leaving his mouth before he could hesitate.

  Horsea responded instantly, unleashing a precise stream of pressurized water that struck Charmander square in the chest. The type advantage hit hard, but Charmander didn't fall. He staggered, hit one knee, claws digging into the dirt, tail sizzling as steam rose in tiny hisses.

  And still he stood.

  Austin's brows lifted just a fraction.

  Resilient.

  "Fire Blast!" Damien shouted again, like the volume would make it work. Like screaming the move would magically bring it to life.

  Charmander turned, trembling, mouth barely flickering with flame—he was trying.

  Austin exhaled, eyes shutting with a mix of pity and cold focus. Follow the plan, he reminded himself.

  "Twister."

  The command was calm, calculated. And immediate.

  Horsea spun, releasing a spiraling vortex of dragonic wind and water that crashed into Charmander before he could finish drawing breath. The little lizard was swept up in the force, tumbled back across the field, and landed in a heap near the edge of the arena.

  Silence fell for a moment.

  Austin opened his eyes, gaze falling not on the fainted Charmander, but on Damien—still standing there, red-faced, fists clenched, looking for something... someone... to blame.

  But Austin wasn't watching to gloat. No, his focus was already ahead. This wasn't about defeating Charmander. It was about freeing him. And now that Damien had burned through his team, the real work could begin.

  Time to get that Charmander the trainer he deserves.

  Austin slipped off the stage without a glance back, vanishing into the crowd like smoke. Behind him, Daisy's voice echoed across the arena, announcing the next match. He didn't care. A faint buzz in his pocket confirmed it: Green was already in motion, intercepting Damien's entourage. All the noise. That bought him a few precious minutes. Time enough.

  He found Damien sulking alone behind the staging corridor, arms crossed, jaw clenched, glaring at nothing.

  "Hey, hey," Austin said, voice easy.

  Damien didn't look at him. "What the hell do you want?"

  There was venom in his tone, bitterness laced with humiliation. Good. That would make what came next smoother.

  "I've got a proposition. Thought you might be interested."

  "If you're trying to sell me one of your trash T-shirts," Damien scoffed, "save it for your twelve-year-old fanbase."

  Austin's eye twitched, but his smile held. "Not that. I'm here to talk about Charmander."

  That got Damien's attention. He turned, eyes narrowing. "What about it?"

  "I want him. I'm offering a trade."

  Damien snorted. "Right. Like I'd just hand him over. My dad didn't raise an idiot, you don't get something for nothing."

  "No," Austin agreed. "He raised a monster who only takes."

  That made Damien stand up straighter. "Watch it."

  Austin shrugged and gestured toward the gondola station just off the gym's edge. "Let's talk somewhere quieter. We'll go to the Pokémon Center. Neutral ground."

  Damien hesitated, then followed.

  The gondola drifted quietly over the glittering canals, the Cerulean skyline reflected in the water below. The only sound was the soft dip of Austin's paddle slicing through the water. Damien sat opposite him, foot tapping, arms still crossed.

  Austin handed him a slim black folder. "Here. Read."

  "What is this?"

  "Your reflection," Austin said. "Start flipping."

  Damien opened the file and skimmed the first page. His eyes narrowed. Then the second page. The third. His posture shifted. The silence stretched as he read, each sheet exposing a new layer of rot and crime linking found by Detective Lyle during the private investigation. By the fourth page, Damien's hands were shaking.

  "Where the hell did you get this?"

  "Wouldn't you like to know?"

  Damien's hand twitched toward his belt. "Do you have any idea who my father is?"

  Austin's smile sharpened. "Yeah. I do. That's why I haven't hit send on this yet."

  He reached into his jacket and pulled out his burner phone, letting Damien see the email draft on the screen. Multiple recipients: league officials, major news outlets, two Pokémon rights organizations, and one very prominent Saffron City journalist with a taste for scandal.

  Damien went pale. "You really want to do this?" he hissed. "You think they'll touch me? My father could buy the Indigo League if he wanted to."

  "Sure," Austin said, still paddling. "He could try. But the question isn't what he can do. It's what he will do when his company stock tanks thirty percent after the headlines hit. When protestors are camped outside your house. When sponsors start pulling out and half of Kanto's media is screaming for Charmander's release. You think your dad's going to go to war for his disappointing, talentless son?"

  Damien's face twisted. "Don't push me," he said. "I swear, if you..."

  Austin dropped the paddle. The boat swayed slightly as he leaned forward, eyes suddenly cold. "No," he said quietly. "You don't push. You don't bluff. You don't threaten. You sit there and listen, because I'm the only reason you're not in a jail cell tonight."

  For a second, the air went heavy.

  Damien looked away. "…What do you want?"

  "The trade still stands," Austin said, straightening. "You give me Charmander, and you get the file."

  Damien didn't hesitate this time. "Fine. Deal."

  "Not done yet." Austin reached into his bag and tossed him a folded piece of paper.

  Damien caught it. "What's this?"

  "A letter," Austin said. "From you. To Charmander. You're going to read it before the hand-off. Loud enough for him to hear it. Convincing. Sincere. You're going to fake the best performance of your life. Cry, if you can."

  Damien opened the letter and scanned it. His brow furrowed. "This is pathetic. I'd never say half this crap."

  "You're going to say all of it. Because it's not about you. It's about him. You're going to give him closure. A goodbye he can believe in. One that lets him walk away from you with dignity. Something you've never once given him."

  Damien crumpled the paper slightly in his fist. "Why? Why go this far? Why risk all this for one dumb Pokémon?"

  Austin studied him, quiet for a beat.

  Then, without a trace of humor, he said, "Because he still tries."

  Damien blinked.

  "That little fire-lizard," Austin continued, voice low and steady, "stood up after a type-advantage hit. Tried to obey a move he wasn't ready for. Smiled when people finally saw him. He gave everything for a trainer who never earned it. And if that doesn't matter to you, then you've already lost something you'll never get back."

  He leaned forward again, face-to-face.

  "And because some of us remember what it's like to be small. To be overlooked. To be loyal to someone who didn't deserve it."

  Damien said nothing. His knuckles were white.

  Austin sat back, picking up the paddle again. "We'll be at the Center in ten. Memorize the letter. You screw this up, the file goes public."

  "…This isn't over," Damien muttered.

  Austin's paddle didn't pause. "Keep telling yourself that."

  The Pokémon Center glowed with clinical calm... pale light, polished tile, nurses moving with soft, practiced efficiency. It was a place of healing, of safety. And right now, it was about to become the site of a liberation.

  Austin handed Pikachu over to a nurse with a quiet nod. The mouse gave a tired but trusting Pika before being wheeled off for treatment.

  Austin didn't watch him go. He turned to Damien, who looked as if he were walking to his own execution. They stepped into the Support Office, a sterile side-room lined with consoles and identity verifiers.

  "I'm here to request a transfer of ownership," Austin said flatly.

  The attendant blinked, recognizing both trainers immediately. "Ah, of course. Please provide both your IDs."

  Austin scanned his card.

  Damien hesitated.

  Austin rolled his eyes and handed over a notepad. "Here. Write my Trainer ID down before you forget it. I know numbers are hard for rich boys who use daddy's wallet instead of their brain."

  Damien's jaw clenched. His hand shook slightly as he wrote the digits down. But he didn't say a word.

  He couldn't. Not anymore.

  The process took moments. Charmander's name blinked across the terminal screen as his registration swapped from Damien Calloway to Ash Ketchum. With that final beep, it was done. And now came the hard part.

  Austin led Damien down a quiet hallway, away from the Center's crowds and healing chambers to a gardened corner just outside the emergency bay. Quiet. Private.

  "Now," Austin said, voice low. "Do your part."

  Damien sneered but said nothing. He pulled out the Poké Ball and released Charmander.

  The small flame-tailed Pokémon emerged with a soft burst of light... and immediately stared down at the ground.

  No celebration. No cheer. Just quiet shame. As if he already knew what was coming.

  "Look at him," Damien muttered, tone sharp with disgust. "Still moping. You'd think he'd finally evolved into something useful."

  There was a crack, not of violence, but of a boot slamming down onto the tile.

  "Try again!"

  Damien froze, the paper half-unfolded in his hands.

  "You want him to believe you?" Austin continued, voice low. "Then say it like you mean it. From memory. Or the deal's off."

  Damien stared at him, teeth clenched, face pale, sweat just beginning to gather at his temples. His fingers twitched, crumpling the page. But he didn't argue.

  Austin didn't need to say what they both already knew: if this wasn't convincing, it would all come crashing down. So Damien tucked the letter away, stood tall, and looked at Charmander.

  Damien did something unthinkable. He dropped to one knee.

  His voice was steady. Too steady. Like he was reading lines from a script buried in his skull. But each word was wrapped in enough emotion... controlled tremble, faltering breath... that for Charmander, it was impossible to tell the difference.

  "Charmander… I was cruel to you. I gave you orders you weren't ready for. Blamed you for things you didn't understand. I made you feel like you were never enough. Like you were the problem."

  Charmander's head tilted, eyes shimmering.

  "But you always tried. No matter what. Even when I yelled, even when I called you weak… you gave everything. You kept believing in me, even when I didn't deserve it."

  Damien took a breath, and for a moment, his hands trembled not from acting.

  "You deserve better. You are better. You've got a fire in you stronger than any TM, stronger than anything I ever gave you. You could become a Charizard who soars past the clouds. I believe that now."

  Austin watched him in still silence.

  "But I'm not the trainer who'll help you do it."

  Charmander's eyes widened.

  Damien leaned forward, one hand hovering above the ground, his voice softening just enough to hurt.

  "I'm not good enough for you."

  Charmander shook his head.

  "So… I want to ask you something."

  Damien swallowed hard.

  "Can you promise me one thing?"

  Charmander nodded.

  "Will you become his Pokémon?"

  There was silence.

  Then the little lizard surged forward into Damien's arms, clinging like he was still hoping this was all a bad dream.

  "Char… char…"

  Damien's arms stiffened, but he didn't push him away.

  "You promised," he said finally, voice soft.

  Charmander froze.

  Austin crouched nearby, holding out a hand. Calm. Open. Patient. "I know this is hard," he said gently. "But I promise… I'll help you grow. One day, you'll look down from the clouds and know you made the right choice."

  Charmander looked at Damien. Torn.

  "GO TO HIM!"

  Charmander flinched. His eyes trembled. Slowly, painfully, he let go.

  He walked one step at a time toward Austin's outstretched hand. Then he placed his claw in the boy's palm.

  Austin smiled soft, but certain. "Nice to meet you, Charmander," he said. "I'm going to be your new trainer."

  Charmander turned back, one last time.

  Damien was already walking away.

  "Char!" he cried out, one last call. One last plea for recognition.

  But Damien never looked back.

  The fire-lizard shivered and Austin caught him in a quiet hug.

  "Cry all you want," Austin murmured. "You've earned it. And it just means you're strong enough to feel it."

  Charmander broke quietly at first, then all at once, sobs muffled against Austin's chest as the trainer just held him and let it happen.

  A few minutes later, Charmander wiped his eyes with the back of his claw.

  Austin crouched beside him, voice soft. "We'll take it slow, okay? You've been through a lot. This is a big change for both of us."

  Charmander nodded, sniffling. "We'll figure it out. One day at a time."

  Austin glanced down at the strange discoloration on Charmander's back... His brow furrowed. "Nurse Joy should take a look at that," he murmured, quietly returning Charmander to his Poké Ball.

  But as he turned toward the hallway, he froze.

  Professor Oak was standing there, arms crossed, expression unreadable but his eyes were sharp, fixed on Austin like he already knew something. The look said one thing: I want answers.

  Meanwhile, Damien stormed down the Pokémon Center hallway, thumb jabbing at the buttons on his clunky silver Pokétch, the outdated model barely keeping up with his fury.

  Ring… Ring… Click.

  "Oi, bitch," he snapped. "Get my father on the line right now..."

  "Hmm," a low, gravel-like voice replied, sharp and cold as steel. "So that's how you speak to my secretary?"

  Damien froze. His stomach twisted.

  "F-Father," he stammered, "I thought... I didn't mean to..."

  "Angry?" the voice roared, so loud Damien winced, pulling the device away from his ear. "You're angry? You ruined your own name and mine! I've had investors breathing down my neck for the last hour! You've turned our company into a liability!"

  "I… I don't understand. What are you talking about?"

  "Oh, excellent," his father hissed. "Not only a failure, you're an ignorant one. Turn on any channel. You're famous now. Your crimes are all on national television."

  Damien went rigid.

  "F-Father, I know who..."

  "Shut up."

  The words hit like a slap.

  "I'm sending someone to collect you. You're done here. Don't speak. Don't move. Don't think." The call ended with a dead click. Damien stood there, shaking, staring at the Pokétch like it had betrayed him. Then the rage hit. Hot. Burning.

  Austin was speaking with Professor Oak in the Center lobby, hands casually tucked into his jacket.

  "You son of a bitch!" Damien roared, storming in. "You set me up!"

  Austin turned calmly, not surprised. "Oh look," he said dryly, "the garbage crawled back."

  Damien lunged, fist raised in a wild, uncoordinated punch.

  "Predictable," Austin muttered.

  He sidestepped effortlessly and as Damien stumbled past, off-balance.

  CRACK!

  Austin's elbow slammed into the boy's nose with clean, brutal precision. Blood sprayed. Damien collapsed to the floor, clutching his face with a strangled cry. "Pro tip," Austin said, crouching next to him. "If you're gonna sucker punch someone, don't announce it first like you're in a bad action movie."

  Before Damien could retort, a figure stepped between them.

  "Enough," said Professor Oak.

  "Piss off, old man!" Damien spat, wiping blood on his sleeve.

  Big mistake.

  Without warning, the aged professor pivoted, hooking Damien's waist and with shocking strength suplexed him into the polished tile. The impact made several nurses jump. Damien's head bounced with a dull thud and his body went limp.

  Austin blinked. "Holy sh... Professor, how?"

  Oak straightened with a casual grunt, dusting off his lab coat. "Oh, I used to wrestle back in the day," he said with a small smile. "Before I took up science."

  Austin looked down at Damien, unconscious, arms sprawled awkwardly. "Well, what happens to him now?"

  Oak's smile faded. The humor left his face, replaced by something heavier.

  "For starters," Professor Oak said, "the League will have to respond to the media outcry. Damien's trainer license will be suspended pending a full investigation and any associates who helped cover up his actions will face the same."

  Austin listened intently.

  "His Pokémon will be taken into foster care," Oak continued, "unless they're linked directly to any criminal activity. If they are… they'll be quarantined for further examination or, in severe cases, placed in rehabilitation facilities." He exhaled through his nose, his tone sharp now. "But honestly? That's a slap on the wrist if you ask me. I'm filing a formal complaint with the Department of Trainer Welfare. They'll be coordinating with Kanto's Special Investigations Bureau. And they don't play games."

  Austin raised a brow. "And what about his rich dad?"

  "Mr. Calloway will be investigated thoroughly. If I had to guess," Oak added with disgust, "he'll disown Damien publicly. Paint him as a rogue son, a bad apple. Then pull some PR stunt... donate to a few charities, issue a press statement about abuse prevention. All a smokescreen to protect the brand."

  "So they're basically done?"

  "Depends on what you mean by done."

  Austin gave a dry, tired chuckle. "I mean… I don't have to deal with them anymore. Defeated the villain, roll credits. Hurrah." His tone was half-joking, half-hopeful, and fully aware it was wishful thinking.

  Oak's expression softened slightly, then turned pragmatic. "You don't have to worry about Damien, no. Mr. Calloway isn't stupid enough to let his son cause more damage not while the spotlight's burning a hole through his reputation. He'll keep Damien under lock and key just to save his own skin." He paused, then snorted. "And if he tries anything himself…" Oak glanced out the window, jaw firming. "I'll handle it."

  Austin looked at him... quiet, curious.

  Oak's eyes twinkled, just faintly. "I may not wear a cape, but I'm still the former Champion. And father to the current one. I've got more pull in Kanto than any suit with a checkbook." He leaned closer, voice low but steady. "And if that's not enough, well… I have friends in very high places. The kind that make men like Mr. Calloway think a dozen times before making a single move."

  Austin let out a slow breath. Then offered a small, respectful nod. "…Thanks for the help."

  "Don't thank me, boy," he said. "Thank yourself. You didn't just win a battle. You changed a life."

  Austin glanced at the Poké Ball at his side, where Charmander now rested. His fingers brushed against it, gently.

  "…Yeah," he murmured. "Let's hope I don't screw it up."

  Oak placed a hand on his shoulder. "You won't," he said with quiet certainty.

  Austin took a deep breath, wanting to change the topic. "Actually, Professor… can I ask you something?"

  Oak raised a brow. "Go ahead."

  "Why isn't Charizard a dragon-type?" Austin asked, his face scrunched in mock confusion. "You'd think wings, fire-breath, the whole deal, he'd qualify. But no. Flying type."

  Oak laughed. "Ah, that debate. Believe me, it's caused more than a few arguments at interregional conferences." He motioned for Austin to walk with him. "There was a report out of Johto a few years back..."

  "Oh no," Austin muttered, grinning. "A research paper. We're gonna be here a while."

  "Hush now," Oak said, smirking. "You brought this upon yourself."

  After the chaos with Damien, Austin wasted no time. He personally sent Charmander to Viridian City to his Nurse Joy.

  When he described the strange pigment on Charmander's back, Nurse Joy's bright demeanor turned serious. She didn't dismiss it with a smile or a soft pat on the shoulder. Instead, she simply nodded, her voice calm and firm.

  "I'll run a full diagnostic," she said. "No shortcuts. You'll get answers, hero."

  He'd trusted her with worse before. He nodded, leaving Charmander in her care.

  But the day wasn't done with him yet.

  Back at the Cerulean Gym, the tournament continued, and Austin, still carrying the weight of everything he'd done, still managed to carve his way through the bracket. The finals approached faster than he expected. One moment he was brushing dust off his jacket, the next he was standing beneath the roaring lights, staring across the field at a familiar smirk.

  Gary Oak.

  Of course it was Gary.

  Felt like fate. But also… not.

  In the anime, Ash had never faced Gary here in Cerulean City. But in the games, Red and Blue clashed at every badge. This? This felt like a ripple. A shift in fate. A domino that had tipped somewhere between canon and consequence.

  "Get ready to lose, Ashy-boy!" Gary called from across the battlefield, voice cocky, bouncing with energy. That same smug grin he always wore, the one that said I'm the better trainer, and I know it.

  "That's cute."

  Gary blinked. It wasn't the comeback he was expecting. No fire. No banter. No spark.

  Just a cold, dismissive shrug.

  "I'll let your Pokémon cry into the mud when this is over," Gary tried again, raising his voice like he was still trying to spark the usual game between them.

  Austin adjusted his glove and stared at the battlefield. "Yeah. Sure. Say whatever helps you sleep at night."

  There was no edge in his tone. No playfulness. Just indifference.

  Austin sighed through his nose, finally looking Gary in the eyes. Not with hatred. Not even with annoyance.

  Just exhaustion.

  "Not everything's a rivalry, Gary," he said quietly. "Sometimes a battle's just a battle. Nothing more."

  And then he turned, walking to his podium.

  Gary watched him go, his fists clenched at his sides. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He wanted the fire. The shouting. The petty jabs and high-stakes energy. But Austin... this Ash... wasn't playing. And for the first time in a long time, Gary felt the hollow echo of a game he was playing alone.

  The crowd still cheered. The field still buzzed. But beneath the noise, one boy felt like a trainer and the other felt like a child.

  They took their podiums.

  Austin drew in a slow, steady breath. A ritual he'd unconsciously built back in Pewter City, forged during the long days of training while strangers watched and judged from the sidelines.

  The noise around him dulled, blurring into a distant hum like wind through trees. The brightness of the arena lights softened in his mind, no longer blinding, just background. He felt the smooth weight of the Poké Ball in his palm. The familiar presence of Pikachu on his shoulder, warm and steady. Nothing else mattered. Not the crowd. Not the cameras. Not the noise. Just him. Just the battlefield. Just the fight ahead.

  The referee raised the flags. The signal came.

  They threw their Poké Balls in unison.

  In a shimmer of red, Vee landed softly on the muddy field, black fur rippling under the overhead beams. His red eyes narrowed, and the rings along his body glowed faintly as he crouched low.

  From Gary's side came a sharp bark and a flash of orange.

  Growlithe.

  Muscular, well-groomed, and ready.

  Austin's eyes narrowed, watching Vee closely not for what he was doing, but what he wasn't. No bristling fur. No tension in his muscles. No instinctive step back.

  Vee wasn't intimidated. Not even a flicker of hesitation. Which meant one thing. Growlithe's ability must be Flash Fire, Austin thought. He didn't need to hear Lily and Violet's commentary from the booth above... their voices felt like distant fog now. He was already mapping out his plan.

  Then the whistle blew.

  "Sunny Day!" Gary barked.

  Growlithe threw its head back and howled. A glowing orb shot upward, crackling with golden heat, and exploded above the field like a miniature sun. The thick, humid air instantly changed. Mud hissed and dried beneath its light, steam curling up from the battlefield as the terrain hardened into cracked, sun-baked earth.

  Austin didn't flinch. "Confuse Ray."

  Vee's red eyes narrowed. The central ring along his forehead pulsed, then glowed with eerie multicolor light. A beam of distorted, prism-like energy arced across the field and struck Growlithe square in the chest.

  The Fire-type stumbled, blinking wildly as its legs wobbled beneath it. The once-disciplined movement devolved into an awkward, staggering trot like a puppy learning how to walk on ice.

  "Quick Whips!" Austin went for a combo move.

  Vee blurred forward in a streak of silver light, his form flickering with the speed of Quick Attack. But instead of striking head-on, he began weaving in and out around Growlithe, his sleek tail whipping the Fire-type's flank again and again with sharp cracks. The confusion made Growlithe unable to predict or dodge the hits, its body tensing and muscles slackening as its defenses dropped.

  "Flame Wheel!" Gary countered.

  Growlithe gritted its fangs and suddenly righted itself mid-stumble, its fur igniting in a spiral of flame. The confusion was overwhelmed by pure instinct as it roared forward, a fiery blur cutting across the sun-scorched mud.

  "Hidden Power!"

  Umbreon skidded to a stop and lowered his head. A silver orb formed between his teeth, pulsing with strange energy. He launched it at the ground where it detonated with a concussive boom, releasing an omni-directional shockwave of dark-tinted force.

  The moment the wave collided with Growlithe's Flame Wheel, something changed.

  The flames flared violently... no longer orange, but blue. The wheel exploded forward, faster, hotter.

  Austin's eyes widened. That's not Flash Fire. That's something else.

  The blue flames tore through the shadow burst and slammed into Vee, launching him back.

  "Fire Fang!" Gary roared before the dust could even settle, as Growlithe leapt through the aftermath with fangs bared, its mouth glowing with cerulean fire.

  Growlithe clamped down into Vee's nape, biting deep, blue fire surging along its jaw.

  Umbreon let out a pained snarl, his paws dragging against the dirt as his legs locked from the shock.

  "Vee!" Austin shouted, already reaching for his next command when Vee's eyes snapped open and did something Austin hadn't trained him to do.

  A deep, growling power surged in Vee's throat. With a sudden lurch, he opened his mouth wide and roared. Rings of deep purple and black-red energy exploded outward, distorting the air around them. The sound alone rattled the air like a shockwave.

  Growlithe was blasted off his body, rolling back in a trail of scorched earth.

  The referee's whistle blew loud and sharp. "Illegal move!" the announcer's voice rang through the arena. "Umbreon has used a fifth move... resulting in a penalty!"

  Austin stared in stunned silence.

  In the commentary box above, Lily's voice cracked in with concern. "Oh no! It looks like Austin's Umbreon accidentally activated a fifth move mid-fight. That's a rules infraction."

  Violet followed. "Yeah, probably an emotional response... poor thing was in real pain. That was definitely Snarl, which sharply lowers Special Attack and deals Dark-type damage."

  "Which triggers Justified," Lily added. "Growlithe's Hidden Ability! Its Attack rises when it's hit by Dark-type moves!"

  The referee stepped in front of him, holding a red penalty card. "You have two options," he said firmly. "Withdraw Umbreon now… or allow Growlithe one uncontested strike."

  The arena buzzed with tension. The heat of Sunny Day still baked the air.

  Austin's mind whirled. Pull out Vee and give Gary a clean shot in the finals… or risk it all on a hit that could knock Vee out completely, especially with Growlithe now powered up.

  "Damn it," Austin hissed.

  The commentators kept going, laying out the stakes for the crowd. For him. It felt like the world was spinning faster, pressing in until a voice cut through.

  "Umbreon!"

  Austin snapped his gaze to Vee.

  The moonlight Pokémon stood—shaky, bruised, but proud. He gave Austin a nod. A fire in his eyes that hadn't been there before.

  Austin blinked… and smiled. "I forget how much of a tough bastard you are, Vee." He turned to the ref. "Let Growlithe take the shot."

  The crowd gasped.

  Gary's grin sharpened like a blade. "Flamethrower!"

  Growlithe inhaled deeply, then unleashed a wide arc of blazing, sun-fueled fire straight at Vee.

  Umbreon lowered his stance. The fire hit—engulfing him in red-orange flames and then, from inside the inferno, he moved. Charging through the flames, body burning, using the fire itself as cover, Vee turned into a bullet of glowing speed. Quick Attack, cloaked in agony and defiance.

  CRASH!

  He slammed into Growlithe mid-stream, the impact sending the Fire-type skidding back through a newly hardened patch of earth.

  Both Pokémon collapsed at once... Growlithe struggling to rise, Vee already down.

  The referee raised a flag. "Umbreon is unable to battle!"

  Austin clenched his jaw, returning Vee to his ball with quiet hands. "I'm sorry for the sloppy play," he muttered. "We'll make it up to you."

  He looked up across the field. One loss. But the battle wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

  Austin said nothing as he tossed the Poké Ball. The rage storming behind his eyes spoke louder than words.

  In a burst of light, Spearow landed hard on the battlefield—not in the air, but with both clawed feet planted in the baked mud. His feathers were ruffled, not from wind, but from instinct. His wings spread slightly, twitching with anticipation. He looked back once and locked eyes with Austin.

  "I want you to crush him."

  Spearow nodded.

  The referee's whistle split the air.

  "Flame Wheel!" Gary called, doubling down on his powered-up Growlithe. The Fire-type howled and spun into a blue-flamed tornado, charging forward like a burning comet.

  "Aerial Wing."

  Spearow launched forward—not soaring, but sprinting claws tearing across the cracked terrain, wings glowing like sharpened steel blades. Aerial Ace surged through his muscles as he picked up blistering speed, and the glow of Steel Wing gave his movements a slicing edge.

  The two Pokémon collided mid-field but there was no struggle.

  There was impact.

  Spearow hit hard, talons gripping the ground, body low and coiled like a spring. He rammed through Growlithe's spinning flame, absorbing the heat with a screech of pain but never slowing. The collision sent Growlithe flying, blue embers trailing from its fur as it crashed into the wall beneath Gary's podium with a heavy thud. The Fire-type struggled to get up… but it was too late. Vee's tail whips had lowered his defenses. Spearow had shattered it.

  "Growlithe is unable to battle!" the referee called.

  Gary returned his partner wordlessly. "Strong," he muttered, barely audible. His eyes narrowed.

  Then he threw out his second Poké Ball, releasing an Abra.

  The moment it materialized, it raised one finger toward Spearow. The middle one.

  Austin blinked. "…Alright, I like this one."

  Spearow didn't laugh. He looked like he wanted to kill the psychic type.

  The whistle blew.

  "Aerial Ace!" Austin barked.

  "Teleport," came Gary's calm response.

  Spearow darted forward in a blur, but pop—Abra vanished just as Spearow's wing carved through the air where it had been. He reappeared five meters away, seated like a monk, expression unreadable.

  Austin's eyes narrowed. Is he trying to tire us out?

  "Hidden Power!"

  Spearow skidded to a halt and released an orb of swirling fire, intensified by the still-blazing Sunny Day. The orb exploded mid-air, sending an omnidirectional pulse of flame across the arena. But before it could hit, a green shield shimmered into existence around Abra. The flames broke harmlessly around the edges.

  Austin clenched his teeth. He's using Protect too... but he didn't even call the move. And then it clicked. Gary is letting Abra read his thoughts, the boy concluded, gazing upon Abra since it was doing nothing, just... calm.

  "Calm Mind," Austin whispered.

  Abra's body glowed faintly, a tranquil hum echoing in the air as its mind sharpened, power growing more refined by the second.

  "Break it. Aerial Wing!"

  Spearow didn't wait. He surged forward, wings like steel sabers, body low. He tore through the hardened mud, each stride heavy, clawed feet kicking up stone as he closed the gap.

  He hit the Protect barrier hard, cracking it with the force of a battering ram. But Abra teleported again, vanishing in a flicker and reappearing behind him.

  Electricity sparked across its fist. Thunder Punch.

  "Behind!"

  But Spearow already knew.

  He twisted, bringing up his wing just in time. Steel Wing met the punch midair, but lightning danced across the feathers, searing into him. The hit hurt, but Spearow held firm. He ground his claws into the dirt, and his glare burned.

  Austin didn't hesitate. "Assurance!"

  A black aura erupted from Spearow's claws. Before Abra could teleport again, Spearow lunged like a fighting rooster in the pit, slamming his beak into Abra's chest, then gripping the psychic type by the neck.

  BAM!

  He drove Abra into the ground. Dust exploded upward in a choking plume.

  Gary's voice finally rang out. "Thunder Punch!"

  Still crackling with power, Abra obeyed, landing a desperate, sparking punch against Spearow's side.

  Spearow snarled. The electricity arced through him, but he held on.

  "Again!"

  Another Assurance. Another shockwave. Both Pokémon were engulfed in the thick dust cloud as the crowd fell silent. Then the dust cleared.

  Abra lay limp, eyes spinning.

  Spearow stood over him… and collapsed.

  The whistle blew. "Both Pokémon are unable to battle!"

  The crowd erupted in a roar.

  Austin quietly returned Spearow, eyes low. "You fought like a demon," he whispered. "Exactly what I expected."

  The battlefield was cracked. Scorched. Mud turned to clay, then to dust under the relentless sun.

  Austin and Gary stood at opposite ends, eyes locked, breaths steady, hands clenched around their final Poké Balls. This was it. They didn't say a word. Their hands moved as one.

  Two Poké Balls flew through the air like twin comets, bursting open mid-arc with a flash of light and electric tension.

  Rattata landed light on her paws, small. The Quick Claw around her neck shimmered faintly like a loaded trigger.

  On the other side: Nidoqueen.

  She landed with a tremor. Towering. Immense. Her hide glistened under the false sun of Sunny Day, each exhale a plume of heat. The cracked battlefield groaned beneath her weight.

  Austin's heart sank, just a bit. That's a final-stage powerhouse. But then Rattata glanced back, her eyes gleaming. No fear. Just fire. "Let's dance."

  The whistle blew.

  "Superpower!" Gary commanded.

  Nidoqueen's body ignited with blue aura, every muscle flexing, expanding. She roared and charged, each step a quake.

  "Quick Attack, dodge, move!"

  Rattata became a blur, Quick Claw flashing as she zipped between Nidoqueen's feet, dashing across the baked mud with needlepoint precision. Nidoqueen's Superpower slammed into the ground just behind her in a BOOM, blowing chunks of earth skyward.

  "Use the debris!" Austin snapped. "Sword Strike!"

  Rattata shot up the broken slabs of earth like a gymnast on a crumbling staircase. She launched herself high, tail glowing silver, body twisting midair in a graceful arc.

  "Skull Bash!" Gary shouted.

  Nidoqueen's head dropped, her thick skull drawing back and glowing white.

  Austin's eyes widened. Shit!

  Too late.

  Nidoqueen's head slammed upward into Rattata—a perfect uppercut. The mouse was flung back like a ragdoll, spinning midair before hitting the ground with a painful thud. She bounced once… and landed hard. But she stood up. Barely. Blood in her teeth, breath ragged.

  Austin winced. "How bad?"

  She didn't look back. Didn't need to.

  Austin exhaled. "Keep moving. Don't let her set up."

  "Focus Punch!" Gary barked.

  Nidoqueen drew one arm back, her entire body going still as golden aura gathered around her fist.

  Charging it.

  "Sword Strike!"

  Rattata blurred again, her Quick Claw triggering as she circled Nidoqueen in rapid arcs, tail flashing silver. One hit. Two. Three. She danced across the battlefield, pummeling from every angle like a hornet with knives.

  But Nidoqueen was locked in.

  CRACK!

  A perfect strike to the jaw.

  Nidoqueen's punch fizzled, and her body staggered. Focus Punch, disrupted.

  But Austin's eyes narrowed. It's not enough.

  Rattata skidded to a stop, panting hard. Purple light sparked across her body.

  She had been poisoned by Nidoqueen's Poison Point.

  "Oh no..." He looked at her—his scrappy little survivor—and felt the words rise in his throat. "…We've done enough," he muttered. "Let's take this loss and go. We got what we came for. You proved enough."

  Whap.

  Austin blinked.

  Pikachu had smacked his ankle with his tail.

  The electric mouse pointed toward the battlefield. Rattata—bruised, poisoned, panting—was still on her feet. She didn't even glance back. She didn't need to. Austin exhaled, heart thudding. She's not done. Not even close.

  "All those nights training… all those days we pushed past our limit…" he muttered. "You're right."

  He raised his voice.

  "Rattata!"

  She turned slightly, eye gleaming.

  "How bad do you want to win this?"

  "Rat-TATA!" she screamed.

  Gary smirked. "Earth Power!"

  Nidoqueen raised both arms. The ground shook. Cracks spiderwebbed from beneath her feet as molten energy surged upward.

  "Quick Attack!" Austin barked.

  Rattata barely dodged, skimming across the ground in a silver streak as pillars of molten stone erupted behind her like geysers. But she was glowing.

  Evolution.

  White light consumed her, bright enough to blind. Her body grew. Legs longer. Claws thicker. Muscles surged under her fur. Her tail lengthened, her jaw sharpened, her stance dropped low—heavy, anchored. The light shattered. Raticate was able to dodge the Earth Power.

  "Superpower!"

  "Sucker Punch!" Austin called as he saw the faint red aura surround his little lady, burning like embers—indicating that Guts was activated. She disappeared and reappeared at Nidoqueen's side with a pitch-black fist, slamming into the opponent's jaw. The queen staggered, head snapping sideways.

  "Don't stop!" Austin roared. "Assurance!"

  Claws glowing with dark energy, Raticate swerved low and slashed Nidoqueen's belly, then leapt, spun, and whipped her tail across her shoulder—Iron Tail following up.

  Gary clenched his fists. "Skull Bash!"

  Nidoqueen's skull glowed again, she lunged. Too close. She headbutted Raticate clean in the chest—the rodent's breath flew from her lungs as she hit the ground hard. But she didn't stay down.

  "Sucker Punch again!"

  She flashed through shadows and slammed into Nidoqueen's side, knocking her back.

  "Earth Power!"

  The ground exploded under Raticate's feet. She was launched upward in a cascade of stone and fire, her body spinning.

  "Sword Strike!" Austin's voice rang out like a war cry.

  Raticate twisted mid-air, body coiled like a blade. Her tail gleamed in silver light, while the Quick Claw around her neck flashed with a crack of energy, igniting her form in a blur of motion.

  She dove like a falling star. But Nidoqueen didn't flinch. She stood her ground, bruised and burning, eyes narrowed in complete focus. The yellowish aura of Focus Punch engulfed her again as she coiled her fist for one last, earth-splitting punch.

  This was it.

  Neither was backing down.

  Both had someone to win for.

  And in that breathless, electric moment… Raticate made a choice.

  She melted into the shadows below and then reappeared beneath Nidoqueen's guard.

  The perfect counter. The Quick Claw sparked. Guts burned through the poison. And all that power, all that pain, was funneled into one final strike.

  At the exact same instant Nidoqueen's fist collided with Raticate's stomach, Focus Punch detonating on contact and the force cracked the floor beneath them.

  Raticate's claw slashed across Nidoqueen's face. The shockwave ripped through the battlefield like a cannon blast.

  Austin sprinted forward just in time to catch Raticate as she spiraled backward through the air. The impact knocked him flat on his back, grunting as his spine hit the ground with a dull thud.

  Raticate lay limp in his arms. "…Hey," he whispered, eyes clenched. "Looks like I'm buying you more shampoo for that ridiculous hair."

  She didn't respond. He smiled softly and returned her to her Poké Ball.

  "Both Raticate and Nidoqueen are unable to battle!" the referee declared.

  Lily's voice rang out from the booth, practically vibrating with excitement. "That means… this tournament ends in a draw!"

  "Both trainers win!" Violet followed. "Austin and Gary Oak!"

  The crowd erupted. Cheers shook the gym. Spotlights flared, banners dropped. Confetti began to rain down from above.

  Austin chuckled quietly, still on one knee. "I really thought he had it…"

  But as he stood up, brushing the dirt off his pants, he caught sight of movement.

  Gary.

  Already turning away, walking off the battlefield toward the side hallway. Not smiling. Just leaving.

  "...What the hell?" Austin muttered, jogging after him.

  "Oi! Gary!" Austin called as he caught up. "Where you going?"

  Gary didn't stop walking. "Pokémon Center."

  Austin frowned. "Yeah, I know. But dude, we've got people for that. They'll take your Pokémon in for you. We've got a ceremony to attend. Winner's prize. Photos. Confetti. You're gonna let me soak all that in alone?"

  Gary slowed… but didn't turn.

  Austin added, "I think we should split the prize."

  "You can keep it," Gary muttered. "I don't want it."

  Austin narrowed his eyes. "Alright, what's up? You seem… off."

  Gary finally turned and the look on his face wasn't angry. It wasn't smug. It was confused. "You're what's off."

  "Excuse me?"

  Gary stepped closer, voice quieter now. "You didn't rise to my taunts. Not once. During the battle, you weren't freestyling like usual, you were planning. Mapping things out. And when your plans didn't work, you froze. You didn't feel like Ash."

  Austin said nothing.

  Gary went on, eyes scanning his old friend. "I thought this 'Austin' thing was just some edgy nickname. Something to impress Misty or Violet or—whoever. But now… now I'm not sure." His voice dropped. "Are you even the same person I grew up with?"

  The hallway was quiet.

  And Austin, for a rare moment, didn't dodge the question. "You remember how our rivalry started?"

  Gary blinked. "Yeah. You and I fought after I broke your dad's GS Ball. You swore you'd beat me someday. And I said we'd see who was better in the League."

  Austin chuckled softly and thought. Right. That's not how it happened on TV, but sure. Close enough.

  Austin exhaled. "Let's just say I've… seen a lot. Lived through a lot. More than you'd believe. So, yeah... the Ash you knew? He's not exactly the one standing in front of you right now."

  Silence stretched between them.

  Gary's voice softened, hesitant. "So… what about our rivalry?"

  Austin looked at him. And remembered every moment of that battle: the taunts, the growth, the pride in Gary's voice even as he fell short.

  He smiled.

  "It's still on," Austin said. "I'm still going to beat you in the League. And I'm still getting that GS Ball back."

  Gary blinked and suddenly rubbed at his eyes, quickly turning away.

  "Geez," he muttered. "Dust or something…"

  Then he spun back around and just like that, the arrogance was back.

  "Like that's ever gonna happen!" he snapped. "You think you're on my level? Ha! I wasn't even using my strongest Pokémon!"

  Austin grinned. "Then I look forward to facing your best."

  He turned, heading back toward the gym doors. "But for now… we've got a crowd waiting. You coming?"

  Gary nodded, falling into step beside him.

  "…Also," Austin added, smirking. "I'm taking seventy percent of the prize money because I had to listen to your emotional monologue."

  Gary gave him a sideways glare. "Seriously?"

  "What? I'm a high-value man, Gary."

  Austin opened the door, basking in the sound of cheers.

  "I'm just messing with you," he added. "You earned half. Fair and square."

  Gary bumped his shoulder as they stepped through the doors. "Don't let it get to your head. Next time, I'm taking all of it."

  Austin grinned. "Looking forward to it…" He paused. "...Gary-bear."

  Gary choked. "You better be… Trash-tin."

  "Really?"

  Gary scowled. "Shut up, I'll find a better nickname to insult your nickname. Just give me time."

  Austin smirked. "Take all the time you need, Pallet-Town's Number Two."

  Gary's eye twitched. "You're lucky we're walking into a crowd right now."