"Your Pokémon have been restored to full health," Nurse Joy said with her usual gentle smile as she handed three Poké Balls across the counter.
"Thanks a lot, Nurse Joy," Ash replied, tucking them into his belt. He still found it strange that every Nurse Joy looked and sounded exactly alike, but he let the thought drift away as he stepped out into Pewter City's cool afternoon air.
Pikachu bounded to his shoulder.
"You ready for this?" Ash asked.
"Pika," came the firm reply.
The streets were quiet, lined with gray buildings carved from the same stone as the surrounding cliffs. Ash had arrived only hours earlier, yet he already felt the weight of the Gym ahead of him. He'd read about Brock — a young prodigy of rock-type Pokémon — and knew his own team wasn't the ideal matchup. But type charts didn't decide battles; choices did.
The Pewter Gym loomed like a cave mouth, its stone doors opening with a low groan. Inside, the air smelled of dust and earth.
An older man waited by the far wall, arms crossed. His face was lined, his eyes closed in calm composure.
"Hello," Ash said evenly. "My name's Ash Ketchum. I'm from Pallet Town, and I'd like to challenge the Pewter Gym for my first badge."
The man nodded. "I am Flint, substitute Gym Leader in place of my son, Brock. This will be a two-on-two battle. Do you accept?"
"I do."
Overhead lights flared to life, revealing a battlefield of uneven rock. Pebbles rolled under Ash's shoes as he took his position.
Flint tossed his first Poké Ball. "Onix, let's go."
A burst of white light became a towering serpent of boulders. The floor trembled.
Ash drew a breath. "Butterfree, I choose you."
The butterfly Pokémon rose gracefully into the dusty air, wings catching the light.
Flint's brow lifted. "Interesting choice against rock types."
"Sometimes air beats stone," Ash murmured.
"Onix, Rock Throw!"
Chunks of stone shot skyward.
"Evasive pattern C!" Ash called. Butterfree twisted and rolled, Compound Eyes gleaming — the world slowing into crisp focus for it. The first boulder missed by inches. The second grazed a wing but didn't break its rhythm.
"Sleep Powder, now!"
A fine blue haze drifted down. Each fleck landed true — Compound Eyes never missed its mark. Onix shuddered, trying to shake the spores off, but its movements slowed, eyelids drooping.
Flint frowned. "Onix, wake up! Use Tackle!"
Too late. The great serpent's head crashed into the dirt, fast asleep.
"Energy Ball!" Ash ordered.
Butterfree formed a glowing sphere between its feelers and hurled it downward. The impact sent a green shockwave across the stones. Onix groaned, tail twitching.
Ash didn't relax. "Again, but higher trajectory — aim for the mid-segment joint."
Butterfree obeyed. The second orb struck exactly where the boulders met, cracking the joint and scattering debris.
Flint recalled the fallen Onix with a slow nod. "Well played. You exploited precision, not power. I see how you think."
Ash met his gaze. "That's the idea."
Flint reached for his next Poké Ball. "Geodude, you're up."
The small rock Pokémon materialized, fists slamming together.
"Butterfree, one more round," Ash said softly. "Use Stun Spore."
Butterfree released a golden cloud, but Geodude spun through it, hardly fazed.
"Rock Throw!" Flint countered.
Butterfree dodged left — too slow this time. A rock struck its side, sending it tumbling. Ash clenched his teeth. "Return." The beam of red light pulled Butterfree back before it hit the ground.
He exhaled once, steadying himself. "Pikachu, let's finish this."
Pikachu bounded forward, sparks dancing faintly across its cheeks.
Flint's voice echoed. "Electric attacks won't work here, boy."
"I know," Ash said quietly. "We'll make do."
"Geodude, Rock Tomb!"
The floor split, stone pillars erupting around Pikachu.
"Quick Attack through the gaps!" Ash shouted. Pikachu became a blur of yellow, weaving between the falling rocks and striking Geodude's flank before darting away.
"Tail Whip!"
Pikachu skidded to a stop, tail sweeping in a sharp feint that threw Geodude's guard off balance. Its rocky plating shifted, leaving hairline cracks.
"Good," Ash murmured. "Now circle right, keep it guessing."
Flint adjusted, eyes narrowing. "Rock Throw again!"
Boulders arced toward Pikachu.
"Thunderbolt, but short burst!"
A quick flash of light filled the arena, not powerful enough to harm Geodude — but bright enough to blind it.
"Now!" Ash snapped. "Grass Knot!"
Vines surged from cracks in the stone, wrapping around Geodude's legs. It struggled, trapped.
"Full momentum — Quick Attack!"
Pikachu dashed in and struck the weak point Ash had created earlier. The impact reverberated like a hammer blow.
Geodude wavered, groaned, and fell still.
For a moment, there was only the sound of settling dust.
Flint waited a long moment, then returned his Pokémon. "That was… impressive."
Ash stood quietly, catching his breath. Pikachu trotted back to him, fur singed, tail twitching tiredly.
Flint approached, handing over a small, gray badge. "The Boulder Badge. You've earned it."
Ash accepted it, turning the smooth stone over in his palm. "Thank you."
Flint nodded once. "League regulations state that prize money will be transferred to your Trainer account within the hour. Congratulations on your first win."
Ash gave a respectful nod. "Thanks for the battle."
He turned toward the exit, Pikachu following close behind. The heavy Gym doors closed behind them, leaving only the fading echo of Flint's voice in the air.
"Not bad, kid."
The sun was gone by the time Ash set up camp just outside Pewter City. The world had gone quiet except for the soft chirp of nocturnal Pokémon in the trees.
He sat near the fire, coat draped over his shoulders, gently polishing the Boulder Badge with a cloth. Pikachu rested nearby, chewing on a berry, while Butterfree hovered close to the flames, its wings reflecting the light like glass.
"Hold still," Ash said softly as he dabbed an ointment across Butterfree's wing. The bug-type fluttered once, then settled, trusting him completely.
"You did good today," he murmured. "Both of you did."
He glanced at the badge again, its gray surface catching the firelight. The excitement of victory had already faded into something quieter — a mix of fatigue, pride, and thought.
He'd won through planning, patience, and a little luck. But he'd also felt something else — the pull of what it really meant to battle seriously, to use every advantage, to fight with everything he had without hesitation.
He didn't like calling it ruthlessness. It wasn't that. It was something steadier.
Resolve.
Pikachu yawned and curled up beside the fire. Butterfree perched on a branch overhead, eyes half-closed. Ash leaned back, staring at the stars.
The first badge sat in his hand, warm from the firelight. It wasn't just a trophy — it was proof that he could stand his ground.
He smiled faintly. "One down," he whispered. "Seven to go."
The flames crackled softly, and for the first time that night, Ash let his eyes close — the badge glinting faintly beside him, and the quiet promise of the road ahead waiting with the dawn.
The fire had burned low by the time Ash finally let himself breathe. The adrenaline had worn off hours ago, leaving only the ache of exhaustion in his shoulders and the faint sting of embarrassment twisting in his chest.
Butterfree slept on a low branch nearby, wings folded neatly, its breathing slow and steady. Pikachu was curled up by the ashes of the fire, tail flicking lazily with each breath. Both of them had fought so hard… and he'd made them take unnecessary hits because he'd been too proud, too sure he could improvise his way through everything.
Ash sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "That could've gone way better," he muttered. His voice sounded small in the quiet of the woods.
He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, eyes on the embers that still glowed faintly red. Every flicker seemed to replay a moment from the battle — every misstep, every half-second of hesitation.
Why had he led with Butterfree? He knew the Pewter Gym specialized in rock-types. He'd done the research, he'd even written it down in his notebook. Rock beats Bug, Rock beats Flying. It was basic. But he'd gone with it anyway because he'd wanted to prove he could win smart — not strong. He'd wanted to show that he could outthink his opponent.
And it had worked… barely.
Butterfree's Compound Eyes had saved him, not his plan. One missed Sleep Powder, one gust of air in the wrong direction, and Onix would've crushed them. The thought made his stomach tighten. He'd been reckless, even if it hadn't felt like it in the moment.
Ash picked up a small stick and poked at the ashes absently. The orange glow lit his face, sharp against the shadows.
"Too many moves, not enough thought," he murmured to himself. He remembered the moment Butterfree had scattered Stun Spore against Geodude. It had looked good — golden dust sparkling in the light — but it hadn't landed. Geodude had powered through it like it was nothing. He'd wasted time, given Flint an opening, and nearly paid for it.
He sighed again. "I should've switched out sooner."
The words came out heavier than he expected.
He looked at Pikachu, sleeping peacefully. The little mouse had given everything in that fight — darting through falling rocks, taking hits that would've downed other Pokémon twice its size. Pikachu had trusted him completely. And he had almost messed that up, too.
Electricity against Rock. He knew better. He knew. But he'd used Thunderbolt anyway. He could still see Flint's faint smirk in his mind — not mocking, not cruel, just… knowing. The look of a trainer who'd seen it all before, who knew exactly what kind of mistake a rookie would make.
Ash's hand curled slightly into a fist. He wasn't angry at Flint. He was angry at himself.
He should've thought ahead. Used Thunderbolt for what it was — a flash, a distraction — from the start, not as a desperate correction halfway through. He should've remembered the terrain, too. The battlefield had been littered with rocks perfect for cover, for bouncing attacks off of, for making Geodude lose its line of sight. But he hadn't even thought about it until after the fight was over.
He was thinking too much about moves — and not enough about battles.
Ash leaned back, letting out a long breath. The stars above him blurred faintly as he blinked up at the sky.
"You talk about being a great trainer," he whispered under his breath, "and you don't even know how to use the field right."
The words hurt — but they were true.
He thought back to the way Butterfree had strained to keep its balance midair after being clipped by that Rock Throw. The way Pikachu had hesitated, waiting for a command that came just half a second too late. They'd trusted him to guide them. To see things they couldn't. And instead, he'd been reacting — not leading.
For a long moment, he just listened to the soft breathing of his Pokémon. The night around him was still. Somewhere in the distance, a Noctowl called.
Ash pulled out his notebook from his backpack and flipped it open. The pages were messy, filled with quick sketches, move notes, and half-legible thoughts scribbled during travel. He turned to a blank page and wrote across the top:
"Pewter Battle — Mistakes."
He hesitated for a second, then began listing them, one by one.
Led with Butterfree against rock-types. Too risky.
Relied too much on luck (Sleep Powder accuracy).
Used Stun Spore on a resistant Pokémon.
Didn't switch fast enough after Geodude resisted.
Used Thunderbolt first. Should've planned for field use.
Ignored terrain advantages.
Reaction time slow in second phase.
He stopped, staring at the list. Seven points. It felt longer than it looked.
His handwriting was a little shaky, but it was honest. He could almost hear Professor Oak's voice in his head: A battle is more than attacks, Ash. It's awareness. It's knowing the rhythm of your Pokémon.
Ash set the pencil down and closed the notebook carefully. He sat for a while longer, staring into the cooling fire. His eyes were tired, but his thoughts refused to quiet.
He wasn't sad, not really. Just aware. He'd won — but not cleanly, not perfectly. And that was fine. It meant there was still something to learn, still room to grow.
He reached for Pikachu, gently scratching behind its ear. The Pokémon stirred, half-awake, letting out a soft chirp before curling up again.
"We'll get better," Ash murmured. "Next time, we'll be ready before the fight starts."
He looked at Butterfree, its wings glinting faintly in the moonlight. "Both of you… you deserve a better trainer than the one you had today. I'll fix that."
The wind stirred the trees, carrying the faint scent of pine and smoke. Ash wrapped his coat tighter and leaned back against his backpack, eyes fixed on the stars again.
He felt smaller tonight — but sharper, too. Like a blade that had been through its first strike and found where it needed to be honed.
Ash sat motionless beside the dying fire, its last ember winking out with a faint crackle. The night had deepened into a velvet quiet, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves and Butterfree's steady breathing from the branch above.
He stared down at the Boulder Badge resting in his palm. The faint reflection of the moon danced across its surface, and as he turned it slightly, the silvery light caught his face. For a fleeting moment, his brown eyes shimmered — the color deepening, then shifting, catching the moonlight until they seemed to blaze a piercing electric blue.
It wasn't bright enough to light the dark or strange enough to frighten — just an uncanny flicker, like lightning trapped behind glass. The glow faded as quickly as it came, leaving nothing but his quiet reflection staring back.
Ash blinked once, unaware of the change. He let out a tired breath and slipped the badge into his case. "Tomorrow," he murmured, the word barely a whisper. "We'll do better."
He lay back and closed his eyes. The forest hummed around him, soft and alive, as sleep pulled him under.
Morning came wrapped in mist and birdsong. The air smelled clean, sharp with dew. Ash packed up his camp with quiet efficiency — folding his blanket, tying down his bag, brushing the dirt from his jacket. Pikachu was already awake, stretching and yawning wide before leaping effortlessly onto his head, nestling into his messy black hair.
"Morning," Ash said, voice low and calm. Pikachu responded with a cheerful "Pika!" and a tiny flick of his tail.
The road ahead was narrow and uneven, carved between rolling hills that rose toward the looming shadow of Mount Moon. It was enormous up close — an ocean of gray and green rock, its peak hidden behind drifting clouds.
Ash paused at a ridge and pulled a folded map from his pocket. The corners were creased, marked with smudged pencil notes and circles he'd drawn the night before.
"Let's see…" he murmured, tracing the lines. "If this trail cuts through the forest here, we should reach the cave entrance by sunset."
Pikachu leaned over his forehead, peering down at the paper with a soft squeak.
Ash glanced up at him. "What? You think it's the other way?"
"Pika pika!"
Ash sighed, though a faint smile tugged at his lips. "You're probably right. You've got better sense of direction than I do, anyway."
He tucked the map away, adjusted his bag, and started down the path Pikachu had indicated. The crunch of gravel under his boots mixed with the distant rumble of waterfalls. Sunlight broke through the clouds in scattered rays, glinting off the mountain face like sparks on metal.
For a long while, neither spoke. Pikachu sat contently, tail swaying with the rhythm of Ash's stride, while Ash's thoughts drifted back to the battle at Pewter. The mistakes, the lessons, the quiet determination that had settled deep inside him.
He didn't know why, but everything around him felt sharper now — colors brighter, sounds clearer. Every shift of the wind, every pebble underfoot, every flicker of motion in the distance. It wasn't overwhelming; it was grounding, like the world itself had opened one layer deeper.
Maybe it was just focus. Or maybe it was something else entirely.
Ash stopped at a bend in the trail and looked up toward the mountain's distant cave mouths — dark, beckoning, filled with quiet mystery.
"Mount Moon," he said under his breath, eyes narrowing. "Let's see what you've got waiting for us."
"Pika," Pikachu chirped, his tone matching his trainer's resolve.
Ash adjusted his backpack straps and started walking again, the mountain air cool against his face. The faint glint of blue flickered in his eyes once more — gone before the light could fully catch it.
The path wound steadily upward until the air cooled and the light thinned to gray.By the time Ash reached the mouth of Mount Moon, the sun was only a pale smear behind clouds. The entrance loomed like the open jaw of the mountain itself—wide, shadowed, and humming with a faint, mineral chill.
He turned on his headlamp and stepped inside. The beam caught veins of quartz glinting in the walls, tiny drops of water that gleamed like stars. Each echo of his boots came back softer than it should have, swallowed by the stone. Pikachu crouched low on his head, ears flicking at every sound.
"Keep sharp," Ash murmured. "Wild Pokémon could be anywhere."
They passed Zubat clinging to the ceiling, a Sandshrew darting between rocks, the distant clack of a Geodude shifting in its sleep. The deeper they went, the stranger the atmosphere became—quiet but not empty, like the cave itself was holding its breath.
Then he saw it: a faint pink glow farther down the tunnel.
He killed his headlamp and moved slowly toward it, crouching behind a boulder. The glow came from a wide chamber, its floor dusted with fine, silvery powder. At the center stood a group of Clefairy, small and round, their eyes closed as they swayed in a slow, soundless rhythm. Between them lay a cluster of Moon Stones, their surfaces pulsing with soft, lunar light.
Ash didn't speak. Even Pikachu stayed still, head tilted in quiet wonder.
For a long moment, the Clefairy danced, their movements perfectly synchronized—gentle, reverent, like waves folding into one another. The light from the stones brightened, filling the cavern with a soft silver haze that brushed against Ash's face. It wasn't warm, but it felt alive. Then, just as suddenly, the light dimmed. The Clefairy stopped, each one bowing slightly before hopping away into smaller tunnels, the sound of their footsteps fading into silence.
Ash waited until the last pink shape disappeared before stepping forward.
"Guess we just saw something special," he whispered.
"Pika…" Pikachu's voice was quiet, almost awed.
On the ground where the Clefairy had stood lay a single Moon Stone, its edges faintly glowing. Ash crouched, hesitated for a heartbeat, then picked it up carefully. It felt cool, heavier than it looked. He brushed the dust off its surface and tucked it into a small case in his pack.
"I'll keep it safe," he said softly. "Maybe it'll come in handy one day."
They left the chamber without looking back, the faint scent of stone and starlight lingering in the air behind them.
By the time they reached daylight again, the world outside felt brighter, sharper. Ash found a flat rock near a stream and sat down, unrolling his map and a thick, folded notebook from his bag. He had bought the book back in Pewter's Poké Mart—a trainer's manual on battle theory, Pokémon biology, and type synergy. The pages smelled faintly of ink and paper dust.
Pikachu dozed beside him as he read.
"Cerulean Gym…" Ash murmured, running his finger down a section of notes. "Water-types. Fast, agile. They'll punish hesitation."
He flipped the page to a diagram of muscle and fin structure, tracing the notes on aquatic acceleration and oxygen recovery. The technical words were dense, but he forced himself through them, underlining key phrases in pencil. He wanted to understand—not just how to fight, but why each move worked the way it did.
He paused to jot a list in the margin:
Focus on terrain—water surfaces affect footing.
Train Pikachu's reaction speed; limit energy waste.
Practice ranged support with Butterfree—use wind current from wings to counter water pressure.
Study Cerulean's typical strategies—avoid predictable openers.
He exhaled slowly, tapping the pencil against the page. "No more sloppy thinking. No more surprises."
Pikachu stirred and climbed up to his shoulder again, glancing at the book with sleepy eyes.
"Don't worry," Ash said with a faint grin. "You'll still get to hit things. We're just gonna hit them smarter."
He closed the notebook, packed it away, and stood. The road beyond the stream curved east, framed by wildflowers and the distant glint of the river that led toward Cerulean. The air smelled faintly of rain, and somewhere beyond the trees, the faint hum of civilization waited.
Ash adjusted his pack and started walking, each step lighter than the last.
The road from Mount Moon dipped gradually into softer hills, where the rocks gave way to open meadows. By afternoon, the air smelled faintly of water and blooming azalea, and the distant sound of rushing current grew louder with every step.
When Ash crested the final ridge, Cerulean City unfolded before him like a reflection come to life. The entire city shimmered in shades of blue and silver—bridges of glass arcing over wide canals, sleek towers mirrored in clear pools, sunlight flashing off water in endless motion.
Pikachu's ears perked up at the sight. "Pika!"
"Yeah," Ash said quietly, taking it in. "Cerulean City. Home of the Water-type Gym."
They crossed the long bridge leading into the city proper. The air was cool and heavy with mist; gulls wheeled overhead, calling softly. The streets were lined with small cafes and vendors selling sea salt candies and freshwater pearls. A group of children splashed in a shallow fountain while a Goldeen swam lazy circles in the basin.
Ash stopped briefly at the plaza to check his map again. The Gym sat on the far end of town near the biggest reservoir. He didn't head there immediately—he was tired, and he knew better now than to rush straight into a battle.
The Pokémon Center stood near the heart of the city, its red dome gleaming against the blue skyline. He pushed open the door, greeted by the familiar scent of disinfectant and the soft hum of machinery.
"Welcome to the Cerulean Pokémon Center!" Nurse Joy's voice carried that same practiced brightness every Joy seemed to share. "How can I help you today?"
Ash unclipped his Poké Balls and set them on the counter. "My team needs a quick check-up. We came through Mount Moon earlier."
"Of course." She smiled as she took them, her hands deft and efficient. "Please place your Trainer ID here while I log the service."
Ash slid his card across the counter and leaned back slightly, stretching his shoulders. Pikachu jumped from his head onto the counter, nose twitching at the sterile air.
The soft chime of the scanner filled the brief silence. Nurse Joy glanced at the display, the smile still on her face but not quite reaching her eyes now.
Her gaze lingered on the screen for a second longer than necessary — enough for Ash to notice the faint pause, the way her expression smoothed into polite neutrality.
Then she looked up, her tone perfectly professional again. "You've been registered under the Pallet Town Trainer Program, I see. First official badge?"
Ash nodded. "Yeah. Pewter."
"Congratulations." She handed the card back gently. "Your Pokémon should be ready in about twenty minutes."
"Thanks," he said, pocketing the card.
As she turned away, the reflection on the terminal monitor caught his ID details for a brief moment — the bold text flashing:
Trainer Qualification Exam Score: 79%
He stared at it for a second, the number faint but distinct in his mind. Not bad. Not exceptional. Just… average.
He sat down in the waiting area, elbows on his knees, eyes unfocused. Pikachu hopped into his lap, curling up comfortably.
Ash let out a slow breath. "Seventy-nine," he murmured under his breath, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Guess we've got a long way to go, huh?"
Pikachu looked up at him with a soft chirp, as if to say that numbers didn't matter.
"Yeah," Ash said quietly, eyes drifting toward the window where the city lights shimmered across the water. "Maybe. But I still want it to be better next time."
The hum of the Pokémon Center filled the silence—machines beeping softly, trainers chatting in low tones, footsteps echoing faintly on tile. Outside, the fountains glowed blue under the setting sun.
Ash leaned back in the chair, letting the cool light wash over him. For a brief moment, the reflection in the window caught his eyes again—brown deepening to that faint, electric blue.
And just like before, it faded before anyone else could notice.
The Pokémon Center was quiet except for the low hum of the recovery machines. They pulsed in rhythm, green lights blinking on and off, steady as breathing. Every few seconds, one of them gave a soft mechanical sigh as if exhaling. The smell of disinfectant hung faintly in the air — sterile, clean, empty.
Ash sat by the wide glass window overlooking the sleeping city. The night outside was soaked in blue light. Cerulean's canals ran like veins through the streets, catching the reflections of streetlamps and breaking them into ripples. The water never stopped moving. He liked that — the quiet persistence of it.
He hadn't slept since the check ups. He didn't really feel tired, just… hollow. Like the noise in his head wouldn't stop long enough to rest.
Pikachu was curled on the seat beside him, tail flicking every so often in his dreams. Ash's hand moved absently through the fur behind his ear. The motion calmed him, even when nothing else did.
His eyes drifted down to the Trainer Card lying on the table.Trainer Qualification Exam — 79%.
It blinked once and went dark. That number — it wasn't bad. Just… not good enough. Not for people who already thought they had him figured out.
He'd seen the look on Nurse Joy's face when she scanned it — the faint pause before her smile came back, polite but thinner, like she couldn't quite hide the thought that passed through her head.
Everyone had that look, sooner or later.
Red with his soft tone — too careful, too patient. "You're doing great, Ash," like it was supposed to make him feel better. Like pity was some kind of gift.Blue with her silence. She never said much anymore. Just a small nod, the kind that means "I don't know what to say" and "I'd rather not try."And Green… always distant, always sure of himself, never missing a chance to remind me who's better. "Face it, Ketchum. You'll always be a step behind."
Ash breathed out through his nose, slow and controlled. The glass fogged for a second, then cleared.
They thought they knew him. They thought they'd figured out where he'd end up before he even started.
They see someone who's trying. Someone they can either feel sorry for or ignore.
He leaned back against the chair, staring out through the glass. The city looked peaceful, but he could see the wind move across the surface of the canals — subtle, invisible, but there. Always there.
I don't need their help. I don't need anyone to tell me I can do this.
His reflection stared back at him. The circles under his eyes looked darker under the blue light. His hair was messy, sticking out under his hood. He looked older than fifteen for a moment — not in the way adults did, but in the way someone gets when they stop expecting things to get easier.
The reflection wavered slightly as a car passed outside. For a fraction of a second, his brown eyes caught the lamplight and turned cold, almost metallic. Then the light moved on, and they were just brown again.
He looked at Pikachu. The little Pokémon stirred in his sleep, nose twitching, tail brushing his knee. Ash's fingers brushed lightly across his fur again.
This is enough. Him. Butterfree. The team. They don't care about numbers or names or family reputations. They just fight. They trust me.
He thought about all the trainers who always had someone waiting for them — parents, friends, mentors. Red had professor and his parents and friends. Blue had talent and charm. Green had family money and his own grandpa.
Ash had his Pokémon. That was all. It had to be.
He picked up his Trainer Card again, stared at the dull surface. The corners had started to fray a little from handling. He pressed his thumb against it until it dug into his skin.
If I win, it'll be because of us. If I lose, it'll be because of me. No one else.
He didn't want to prove anyone wrong anymore. That was too small. Too temporary. What he wanted now was to keep moving — to keep going forward until the path behind him didn't matter anymore.
The thought came quietly, almost without him realizing he'd said it out loud.
"Wanting more… that's what keeps you moving," he murmured, voice hoarse from disuse.
The words hung in the air, soft but heavy. Pikachu stirred but didn't wake.
Ash let the silence settle again. The machines hummed; the water outside kept flowing. He leaned his head back against the glass, eyes half-closed, letting the cold seep through.
He didn't need their sympathy. He didn't need their friendship.He'd move forward. He'd learn, fight, and win.And he'd do it his way — alone if he had to.
His voice dropped to a whisper, almost a vow.
"If greed is progress… then I'll become its embodiment. I'll be the greediest of them all."
A faint hum pulsed through the room. Unseen, unnoticed — his eyes flickered, then glowed a piercing electric blue.