"Hold on...hold on just a little longer!" Suddenly, a voice echoed in Ninetales' mind, briefly clearing the haze clouding its consciousness.
"Hold on...hold on just a little longer!" Suddenly, a voice echoed in Ninetales' mind, briefly clearing the haze clouding its consciousness.
"Hold on...hold on just a little longer!"
Suddenly, a voice echoed in Ninetales' mind, briefly clearing the haze clouding its consciousness.
For a fleeting moment, it saw Paul standing before it—no, not just now, but across time.
It saw flashes of its past with him from the day it hatched, through countless days of relentless training. The painful sessions where Paul pushed it to its limits and also the gentler times: Paul massaging its exhausted muscles, lying together on Torterra's broad back under the open sky.
In an instant, Ninetales' fading awareness surged back to clarity.
And somehow, the crushing force holding it down… loosened, just slightly.
"Now! Use Confuse Ray!"
Shhhhk!
Its eyes snapped open, releasing a burst of eerie violet light that struck the poisoned Mewtwo directly.
Bathed in the spectral glow, Mewtwo's mind already strained by toxic damage was thrown into sudden disarray. With a pained cry, it tossed Ninetales away and clutched its head, struggling to suppress the rising confusion.
The Confuse Ray hit its mark. Before Ninetales could even hit the ground, darkness overtook its vision.
Paul recalled it instantly. At the same time, he threw out another Poké Ball.
"Night Slash, Feint Attack!"
"Chaah~!"
The moment Hisuian Samurott emerged, it launched forward, boosted by Aqua Jet Surge, blades on both arms glowing like slivers of darkness tearing through light.
It was barely visible, a ripple of water and shadow but behind the graceful strike lay force similar to a crashing tidal wave.
Mewtwo, however, wasn't ordinary target. The Confuse Ray had only disrupted it for a second or two.
Sometimes, one or two seconds decides everything. But confusion didn't mean helplessness.
Even while dazed, Mewtwo's body glowed white—Recover triggered automatically, restoring much of its condition. With its head slightly cleared, it raised one arm and released a crushing pulse of psychic energy.
Psystrike.
It shattered the water cloaking Samurott's blades on contact.
But it didn't stop Samurott. The slash continued forward, blades twisting with eerie trick, striking at vulnerable points on Mewtwo's body.
"Again?" Mewtwo thought.
It wasn't surprised this time, Drapion had taught it not to underestimate feints. Calmly, it raised a hand and summoned a psychic barrier—one just as strong as Protect to block the strike.
With the other hand, it began charging an Aura Sphere.
It had a simple plan: block the attack, then fire the sphere point-blank.
But—
CRACK!
BOOM!
The shield, seemingly unbreakable, shattered like glass. Samurott's twin footblades pierced straight into Mewtwo's core.
Super Effective!
A Critical Hit!
Mewtwo froze. Pain exploded in its mind. Its eyes flickered in confusion, how had the barrier failed?
Still, the fully charged Aura Sphere didn't vanish. Gritting its teeth, Mewtwo hurled it at Samurott.
"Sucker Punch, Detect!"
Samurott's eyes gleamed, reading the Aura Sphere and Mewtwo's timing. One blade struck Mewtwo again, while the other plunged into the Aura Sphere itself forcing it to detonate prematurely in a harmless burst of wind and light.
This combo left Mewtwo staggered. Reflexively, it tried to unleash a wave of raw psychic power to push everything back—
But Samurott was unaffected.
It tried Aura Sphere, Mega Punch, anything—
Only for each move to be preempted by Samurott's Sucker Punch or Detect.
Within mere seconds, Mewtwo was overwhelmed.
And then—
The poison surged again.
The toxins it had suppressed now erupted violently, robbing Mewtwo of all strength.
"Night Slash–Combo Strike!"
Seizing the moment, Samurott's twin blades glowed green and unleashed a relentless flurry of slashes like crashing waves, each more intense than the last.
Every strike landed with precision, hitting Mewtwo's weak points and stacking unbearable damage.
"Chaaah!"
With a final roar, Samurott brought both blades down in a vertical cross-slash directly onto Mewtwo's head.
BOOM!
With a burst of pain, Mewtwo collapsed, unconscious.
"Chaaah~!"
Samurott stood over its fallen opponent, eyes gleaming with pride—not in arrogance but in understanding. It had just reached a new level of mastery.
"Well done." Paul said as he approached. He gently patted Samurott's shoulder. "But don't let it go to your head."
This battle had many factors. The most crucial? Mewtwo had just been born, its power was unstable and its knowledge still lacking.
Had Paul not used a Dark-type as his last Pokémon even with Mewtwo exhausted, the outcome could've easily gone the other way.
"Chaaah~."
Samurott sheathed its blades with solemn calm. It was pleased, but not cocky. It knew exactly how hard this fight had been, more intense than its battle against Alakazam by far.
It had only won because of the combined efforts of every one of Paul's Pokémon.
Paul knelt by Mewtwo. In his hand was a rare Hisuian Poké Ball, but he didn't throw it.
If he'd wanted to capture Mewtwo right away, he would've done the moment it fell. But he didn't.
Why?
Because this wasn't a game.
In the games, once a Pokémon is caught, the Poké Ball doesn't break. Even if its bond with the trainer is low, it won't destroy the ball—it just might disobey.
But reality is different.
For a being like Mewtwo or any Pokémon at Champion-tier and beyond, Poké Balls hold far less restraining power.
If they wished to break free, they could shatter the ball from the inside even if it were a Great Ball or an Ultra Ball.
Even the Master Ball wasn't unbreakable.
It could contain them temporarily, but forever? No. The moment it became a prison not a choice, it was only a matter of time before it failed.
And what's the point of capturing something you can't truly partner with?
A trophy? Paul had no use for that.
He didn't want a collectible.
He didn't want a slave.
He didn't want a prisoner.
He wanted a partner, one who stood beside him of its own will.
With Mewtwo's intellect, if it truly wanted to leave, forcing a capture wouldn't change a thing. And if it didn't want to leave, then it wouldn't matter when or even whether, it was caught at all.
"…Why?"
After a long silence, Mewtwo opened its eyes. Weakened, it looked at Paul with confusion—eyes full of complex emotions.
It knew. Paul could've captured it, just like any other Pokémon.
But he hadn't.
Mewtwo wanted to stand.
It wanted to speak to demand answers from Paul, to prove itself once more.
But in this moment, its body had nothing left to give.
In the real world, every move has limits. There's no such thing as infinite usage.
Recover at its core, stimulates cell regeneration to restore stamina and wounds. But Mewtwo had pushed itself beyond its limits in this battle. It had already used Recover multiple times and before that, it had expended massive energy destroying the laboratory that birthed it.
Now, with poison still coursing through its body, it couldn't even muster the strength to use Recover again.
"Eat these. They'll cure the poison."
Paul didn't answer Mewtwo's question right away. Instead, with the hand not holding a Poké Ball, he reached into his pocket and held out a Pecha Berry and an Oran Berry, placing them gently near Mewtwo's mouth.
Mewtwo didn't immediately eat.
It stared at Paul in silence, eyes filled with conflicting emotions.
Then, slowly, it opened its mouth and accepted the fruit.
As the berries burst between its jaws, their juices flowed through its body like warm currents, gradually washing away the lingering poison. Strength began to return to its limbs—not much, but enough to rise off the ground.
"…Why didn't you take that perfect opportunity to capture me?"
Still seated, Mewtwo looked up and asked, its tone burdened with complexity.
"What do you think is the most important thing between a Pokémon and a human?"
Paul's reply was a question of his own.
Mewtwo thought about it but in the end, it shook its head.
It had only just been born.
It didn't even fully understand who it was, let alone the purpose of its existence.
The nature of the relationship between Trainer and Pokémon?
It had never even considered the question.
If it had, it wouldn't have been so easily manipulated by Giovanni—fooled into donning armor and becoming a living weapon.
"It's recognition."
Paul met Mewtwo's gaze and answered with conviction.
"Between Pokémon and humans, every relationship good or bad—stems from recognition."
Whether it's earned through strength, wisdom, skill…or forced through machines, drugs, and domination—it always comes down to whether the Pokémon recognizes the human.
The difference lies in the kind of recognition.
The former: respect and mutual understanding.
The latter: forced, and ultimately unstable.
"I know you've been wondering—Who are you? Where do you belong? What is your purpose? But the truth is… those answers don't need to come right away."
"Whether you're human or Pokémon, existence itself doesn't begin with meaning. You find your meaning by following your heart, by doing what feels right to you."
"Life always seeks its own path forward. I don't know what yours is yet…"
"…But I know mine."
Paul stood taller, voice steady and sure.
"My goal is clear: to train the strongest Pokémon and to become the most powerful Trainer across every world!"
"And if you don't yet know what your purpose is, will you walk that path with me? Will you grow stronger alongside me and find meaning through that journey?"
Their eyes locked—Paul's unwavering, full of fire.
"I need your strength. But more than that… I need your recognition."
He slowly lifted the Poké Ball in his hand and said nothing more.
Mewtwo fell silent, lost in thought.
'Who am I? Why do I exist?'
Maybe… those answers would come.
Eventually.
"I don't know yet." it said softly. "But if what you say is true… then I will understand. Someday."
It looked up. "Human. Tell me your name."
"Paul. Pokémon Trainer."
"…Paul. For now, I'll accept your words and stay by your side. But don't forget your promise."
Mewtwo reached out and touched the Poké Ball.
In a flash of red light, it entered.
The Hisuian-style Poké Ball in Paul's hand wobbled twice, then fell still.
Mewtwo was captured.
For Mewtwo, this had all happened on the very day it was born.
And yet, already this day would become one of the most defining moments of its entire life.
Inside the Poké Ball, Mewtwo sat quietly, deep in thought. Slowly… sleep overtook it.
Mewtwo found peace.
But Paul, Paul was still reeling.
"I… I just captured Mewtwo?"
"I captured Mewtwo!!"
He'd experienced a lot today. But now, staring down at the Poké Ball in his hand, he felt a wave of disbelief, followed by a surge of emotion he could barely contain.
Mewtwo, what kind of existence was that?
Its power and potential were almost beyond description. But above all…
…Mewtwo had something few other Legendary or Mythical Pokémon had intellect.
Most legendary Pokémon were immensely powerful but lacked the cognitive sophistication to wield that power with true precision.
But not Mewtwo.
It was, without question, the one Pokémon capable of fully harnessing its own terrifying strength.
And not just strength, Mewtwo's intellect was its other gift.
In the anime's first movie, it had reverse-engineered Poké Ball technology, even creating its own "Dark Balls" capable of capturing any Pokémon—wild or trained, even those already inside Poké Balls.
A Pokémon like that, no matter your goal was the ultimate asset.
But all of that meant nothing… unless it truly recognized you.
A silver tongue could win over Mewtwo once.
But if you lacked substance, you'd never win its lasting trust.
"I will earn your full recognition, Mewtwo." Paul whispered, staring at the Poké Ball in his hand.
It didn't move.
But a soft red glow shimmered from the button—
As if Mewtwo were answering.
"Well done." Paul said at last. "Now take a rest."
He looked at the ball a few seconds more, then exhaled and tucked it away. He turned to Samurott and nodded.
"Chaaah~."
Samurott responded softly before returning to its own Poké Ball.
Its time on the field had been brief but the experience it gained was immense.
That final flurry of attacks had taught it something.
Something about the depth of its own strength.
Something worth reflecting in silence.
Back in its ball, Samurott began meditating on that growth.
1:10…
1:09…
1:08…
Paul checked his phone.
The countdown for this dimensional shift, this strange journey was reaching its end.
He slipped the phone into his pocket, stuffed his hands in his coat, and gazed out toward the sky.
Before him: a golden sunset.
Behind him: a battlefield in ruins.
His dreams reached toward the stars.
But his feet remained planted on solid ground.
And somewhere, out there in the distance… there was a shore.
A destination.
(End of Chapter)
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