The decision came to him on a quiet morning, as he sat at the edge of the summit watching the sun rise over the distant peaks.
He had been on this mountain for months now. Months of training, of bonding, of pushing himself and his Pokémon toward heights that should have been impossible. The routine had become comfortable—familiar in a way that was both reassuring and slightly concerning.
Comfortable was dangerous. Comfortable meant stagnation.
The partner Pikachu stirred on his shoulder, yawning widely as it woke from its doze. It looked up at him with sleepy eyes, sensing the shift in his mood without understanding its source.
"Pika pi?" it asked softly.
He reached up to scratch behind its ears, his mind already made up.
It's time, he thought. Time to see what's happening in the world below.
He had been so focused on training, on fusion experiments, on building strength for threats that might never materialize, that he had lost touch with the reality he was supposedly preparing to protect. What was happening in Johto? Had Team Rocket been stopped? Was Ash continuing his gym challenge? Were there new developments, new dangers, new situations that required his attention?
He didn't know. And that ignorance was unacceptable.
The mountain would still be here when he returned. His training would continue. But for now—for a while—he needed to descend.
He spent the morning preparing.
Most of his Pokémon were recalled to their balls, their combined weight barely registering on his belt thanks to the technology that made Poké Ball storage possible. Only the partner Pikachu remained outside, taking its usual position on his shoulder with an excitement that suggested it understood they were going somewhere.
He checked his supplies—healing items, food, money that Red had accumulated over years of championship status. Everything he might need for an extended stay in civilization.
He looked around the cave that had been his home for so long, taking in the familiar walls and the fire pit and the small comforts he had accumulated. It wasn't much, but it had been enough.
I'll be back, he promised silently. This isn't goodbye. Just... a break.
The partner Pikachu chirped encouragingly, its cheeks sparking with anticipation.
He released Dragonite from its ball, the orange dragon materializing with its characteristic cheerful cry. It looked around, clearly confused by the early summons—they usually didn't fly until afternoon training sessions.
He pointed toward the distant lowlands, toward the cities and towns that lay far below the mountain's frozen peaks.
Dragonite's eyes widened with understanding. Then its expression shifted to something that looked almost like excitement. It had been months since they had gone anywhere other than the summit. The prospect of seeing new places, meeting new people, experiencing something other than training—
The dragon-type crouched eagerly, inviting him to climb aboard.
He settled onto Dragonite's back, the partner Pikachu tucking itself into his hood for warmth. The wind would be brutal during the descent, but his adapted body could handle it.
One last look at the summit. One last moment of peaceful solitude.
Then Dragonite's wings beat powerfully, and they were airborne.
The descent was breathtaking.
Mt. Silver fell away beneath them, its frozen peaks shrinking as they rose higher before beginning the long glide down toward the lowlands. The air grew warmer as they descended, the temperature shifting from lethal cold to merely brisk, then to genuinely comfortable.
He watched the landscape transform below them. Snow-covered rocks gave way to hardy shrubs, then to sparse forests, then to the lush greenery that characterized Johto's lower elevations. Rivers appeared, glinting silver in the morning light. Roads became visible, thin lines cutting through the wilderness, connecting towns and cities in a network of civilization.
And then, in the distance, he saw it.
Blackthorn City.
The city where he had first descended all those months ago, where he had healed his Pokémon and given an autograph to an excited young trainer. It was the closest major settlement to Mt. Silver, the natural first stop for anyone coming down from the mountain.
He directed Dragonite toward the city, the dragon-type angling its descent to bring them down on the outskirts rather than the center. No need to cause a panic by landing in the middle of—
Too late.
Someone had spotted them.
He was still several hundred feet in the air when he heard the first scream. A woman on the street below, pointing upward with one hand while clutching a shopping bag with the other. Her voice carried clearly in the morning air, words that made his stomach sink.
"IT'S RED! RED IS COMING DOWN FROM THE MOUNTAIN!"
The effect was immediate and dramatic.
People poured out of buildings, flooding into the streets to stare at the sky. More pointing, more screaming, more voices raised in excitement and disbelief. Within seconds, it seemed like the entire city had stopped what it was doing to watch the legendary trainer descend from his frozen sanctuary.
So much for a quiet arrival, he thought wryly.
The partner Pikachu poked its head out of his hood, surveying the chaos below with obvious amusement. "Pika pika!" it chirped, clearly entertained by the spectacle.
Dragonite, bless its heart, was trying to find a landing spot that wasn't crowded with gawking civilians. It circled the city once, twice, looking for an empty space that could accommodate its wingspan.
There wasn't one. Every street, every plaza, every open area was filling with people desperate to catch a glimpse of the Silent Champion.
Finally, Dragonite gave up on discretion and simply landed in the largest available space—the plaza in front of the Pokémon Center. The dragon-type's claws touched down on the cobblestones with a heavy thump, its wings folding against its back as it surveyed the crowd that immediately pressed closer.
The noise was overwhelming.
"It's really him!"
"Red! The Champion!"
"I can't believe it!"
"Someone get a camera!"
"Is he staying? Is he going back up?"
"RED! RED! OVER HERE!"
He dismounted slowly, acutely aware of hundreds of eyes fixed on his every movement. The partner Pikachu climbed from his hood to his shoulder, its ears flattening slightly at the volume of the crowd.
A path cleared before him almost automatically—people pressing back to give him room, their awe temporarily overcoming their desire to get closer. He walked toward the Pokémon Center, his pace steady and unhurried despite the chaos surrounding him.
The doors slid open as he approached, and Nurse Joy's face appeared in the gap. Her expression cycled through shock, recognition, and professional determination in the span of about two seconds.
"Champion Red! Please, come inside quickly!"
He didn't need to be told twice.
The Pokémon Center's doors slid shut behind him, muffling the roar of the crowd outside. Through the windows, he could see people pressing against the glass, phones raised to capture photos of the legendary trainer who had emerged from his mountain hermitage.
Nurse Joy was already moving, her hands flying over the counter's controls. "I'm locking down the Center—no one in or out until the crowd disperses. Champion, are you alright? Do you need medical attention? Your Pokémon?"
He shook his head, trying to convey that he was fine through gesture alone. The partner Pikachu helped, hopping onto the counter and giving Nurse Joy an enthusiastic thumbs-up with its tiny paw.
"Oh, thank goodness." Nurse Joy's shoulders sagged with relief. "When we heard you were descending—well, the whole city went into a frenzy. It's been years since you've come down, and after that incident with the young trainers last month, everyone's been talking about you."
The incident with the young trainers. Ash and his friends, she must mean. Word of that encounter had apparently spread.
"The Pokémon League has been trying to contact you," Nurse Joy continued, her professional demeanor reasserting itself. "Lance himself called three times last week, asking if we'd seen any sign of you. Something about wanting to schedule a meeting?"
Lance. The Dragon Master, the Champion of Johto. He remembered the conversation he'd had with Ash—the older trainers at that café, talking about Red's undefeated record and the Elite Four members who had challenged him and lost.
Including Lance, presumably.
He nodded slowly, indicating that he understood. A meeting with Lance might actually be useful—a chance to learn about the current state of the region, any threats that might be developing, the overall political situation.
But first, he needed to figure out how to escape this Pokémon Center without being mobbed.
Nurse Joy seemed to read his mind. "There's a back exit—staff only, but I think we can make an exception for the Champion. It leads to an alley behind the Center. From there, you could probably slip away before the crowd realizes you're gone."
He nodded gratefully, moving toward the door she indicated. The partner Pikachu waved goodbye to Nurse Joy, who waved back with a slightly starstruck expression.
The back alley was blessedly empty. He emerged into the shadows between buildings, the sounds of the crowd muffled by brick and mortar. Dragonite would have to wait—there was no way to retrieve it without drawing attention. He would summon it later, when he was clear of the city.
For now, he would walk.
He made it approximately three blocks before being recognized again.
This time, it was a young trainer—a boy maybe eight or nine years old, clutching a Pokéball with the fierce determination of someone just starting their journey. The kid had been walking with his mother, chattering excitedly about the commotion at the Pokémon Center, when he had looked up and locked eyes with Red.
The boy's mouth fell open. His eyes went wide. The Pokéball slipped from suddenly nerveless fingers and clattered to the ground.
"M-M-Mom," the boy stammered, his voice rising to a pitch that probably only Zubat could properly appreciate. "Mom. MOM. THAT'S RED."
The mother looked up from her phone, confusion giving way to shock as she registered the figure standing before them. The black jacket with blue flame patterns. The fluffy hood. The Pikachu on his shoulder.
"Oh my," she breathed. "Oh my goodness."
More heads were turning now, drawn by the boy's exclamation. Recognition rippled through the street like a wave, faces shifting from curiosity to amazement to outright disbelief.
And then the screaming started again.
"IT'S RED!"
"HE'S OVER HERE!"
"SOMEONE CALL THE NEWS!"
"RED! CHAMPION RED!"
He closed his eyes briefly, accepting his fate. There would be no quiet exploration of Johto, apparently. His very presence was an event, a spectacle that drew crowds wherever he went.
The boy had recovered from his initial shock and was now bouncing on his heels with barely contained excitement. "Can I have your autograph? Please? PLEASE? You're my hero! I want to be just like you when I grow up! Strong and silent and mysterious!"
He looked at the kid—at the genuine adoration in his eyes, the innocent enthusiasm that reminded him painfully of Ash—and felt his resistance crumble.
He reached into his jacket and pulled out the small notebook he had started carrying for exactly these situations. A quick sketch of a Pikachu, a lightning bolt, and the words "Chase your dreams" scrawled beneath.
The boy accepted the autograph like it was a holy relic, tears actually forming in the corners of his eyes. "Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you thank you thank you. I'm never going to forget this. Never ever."
His mother was crying too, clutching her son's shoulders with trembling hands. "Thank you, Champion. You have no idea what this means to him. To both of us."
He nodded awkwardly, not sure how to respond to such intense emotion. The partner Pikachu helped by offering the family a cheerful wave and a spark of electricity that made the boy gasp with delight.
But the crowd was growing larger by the second, and if he didn't move soon, he would be completely trapped.
He pointed toward the edge of the city, trying to convey his need to leave. The mother understood immediately, turning to address the gathering masses with surprising authority.
"Everyone, please! Give the Champion some space! He's clearly trying to go somewhere, and we're blocking his path!"
The crowd parted reluctantly, creating a narrow corridor through which he could pass. He nodded his thanks to the mother and began walking, the partner Pikachu watching their backs as people closed in behind them.
Every step brought new faces, new voices, new requests for autographs and photos and just a moment of his time. He signed what he could, nodded at those he couldn't, and kept moving forward with the steady determination that had carried him up Mt. Silver in the first place.
By the time he reached the city limits, he had signed forty-three autographs, posed for at least a dozen photos, and somehow acquired three separate gifts from admirers who had thrust them into his hands before he could refuse.
A hand-knitted Pikachu plushie. A box of homemade cookies. A small wooden carving of a Charizard that was actually quite impressive.
The partner Pikachu had claimed the plushie immediately, hugging it to its chest with possessive determination. The cookies it eyed with obvious hunger. The Charizard carving it sniffed once, deemed acceptable, and tucked into his hood for safekeeping.
He looked back at Blackthorn City, at the crowds still visible in the distance, at the chaos his mere presence had caused.
This is going to be a long trip, he thought.
The partner Pikachu chirped its agreement, then gestured pointedly at the cookie box.
He opened it and offered one to his partner, taking one for himself as well. They stood at the edge of civilization, munching on homemade treats, contemplating the journey ahead.
Johto was waiting. Its cities and towns, its gyms and landmarks, its people and Pokémon—all of it was out there, ready to be explored.
And apparently, ready to lose its collective mind at the sight of him.
He pulled out Dragonite's Poké Ball and released the dragon-type, which materialized with a confused expression—it had expected to wait longer before being summoned.
Change of plans, he conveyed through their bond. We're flying to the next city. Walking isn't going to work.
Dragonite nodded in understanding, crouching to allow him to mount. The partner Pikachu settled into his hood, still clutching its plushie and eyeing the remaining cookies.
They took off, rising above the trees and angling south toward the heart of Johto. Below them, he could see people on the roads pointing upward, their distant shouts barely audible over the rush of wind.
The word would spread. By the time they reached the next city, everyone would know that Red had descended from Mt. Silver.
He wasn't sure whether to be grateful for the attention or terrified by it.
Probably both.
Goldenrod City was even worse.
The largest city in Johto, home to the famous Radio Tower and the Department Store that sold everything a trainer could possibly need. It was a hub of commerce and communication, a place where news traveled fast and crowds gathered even faster.
When Dragonite descended toward the city's outskirts, he could already see the masses gathering. Word had somehow traveled ahead of him—probably via the Radio Tower's news broadcasts—and half the city seemed to have turned out to witness his arrival.
There were barriers set up. Actual metal barriers, like the kind used for parades or major events. Someone had organized this in the hour or so since he'd left Blackthorn, had anticipated his route and prepared for his arrival.
Police officers in uniform were struggling to maintain order, their Growlithe and Arcanine partners helping to keep the crowds from spilling into the landing area. News cameras were positioned at strategic angles, their operators jostling for the best shot.
And at the front of the crowd, standing behind a barrier with the kind of authoritative posture that suggested she wasn't used to being kept waiting, was a woman in a pink outfit that he recognized from Red's memories.
Whitney. The Goldenrod City Gym Leader. Famous for her Miltank, infamous for making young trainers cry.
He had not expected a welcoming committee.
Dragonite landed in the cleared area, its wings folding as it surveyed the chaotic scene with something approaching bewilderment. The partner Pikachu had retreated fully into his hood, clutching its plushie like a security blanket.
Whitney pushed past the barrier before any of the officers could stop her, striding toward him with a confidence that bordered on aggression. Her pink hair bounced with each step, and her expression was a complicated mixture of excitement and frustration.
"Champion Red!" she exclaimed, stopping a few feet away with her hands planted on her hips. "It's an honor to finally meet you! I've been trying to arrange a match with you for YEARS, but you never came down from that stupid mountain!"
He blinked, taken aback by her directness. Most people approached him with awe or reverence or barely contained nervousness. Whitney apparently hadn't received that memo.
"Well, you're here now!" she continued, her voice carrying easily over the noise of the crowd. "So how about it? A battle! Right here, right now! My Miltank against your Pikachu! Winner takes bragging rights!"
The crowd erupted at the suggestion, cheers and shouts filling the air. "BATTLE! BATTLE! BATTLE!" The chant spread through the masses like wildfire, thousands of voices joining in a demand for entertainment.
He looked at Whitney, at her eager expression and competitive stance. He looked at the crowd, at the cameras, at the police officers who were now completely failing to maintain order.
He looked at the partner Pikachu, which had emerged from his hood and was sparking its cheeks with undisguised enthusiasm.
"Pika pika!" it declared, hopping down from his shoulder to land before Whitney. Its tiny body was practically vibrating with battle-readiness.
Whitney's eyes widened. "Is that a yes? That's a yes, right? You're accepting my challenge?"
He nodded slowly.
The crowd went absolutely insane.
The battle that followed was not exactly what anyone expected.
Whitney released her Miltank with a flourish, the pink cow Pokémon materializing in the cleared space with a determined "Mil!" It was a formidable creature—deceptively cute, but hiding incredible power beneath its rounded exterior.
The partner Pikachu faced it with the confidence of something that had been training alongside legendary Pokémon for months. Its cheeks crackled with electricity that made the air itself seem to hum.
Whitney called the first move. "Miltank, Rollout!"
The cow Pokémon curled into a ball and began to spin, building momentum before launching itself at Pikachu with devastating speed. It was the move that had defeated countless challengers, a relentless attack that grew stronger with each successive hit.
The partner Pikachu didn't move. It stood perfectly still, watching the Rollout approach with almost casual disinterest.
At the last possible moment, it sidestepped.
Miltank blew past, its Rollout carrying it too far to adjust. It uncurled, skidding to a stop, and immediately launched into another rotation.
Again, Pikachu sidestepped. And again. And again.
The crowd watched in stunned silence as the tiny electric-type dodged attack after attack with effortless grace. Miltank's Rollout was picking up speed, becoming more powerful with each pass, but it couldn't hit what it couldn't catch.
"What the—" Whitney's confident expression had shifted to confusion. "Miltank, stop and use Milk Drink! Recover your stamina!"
But Pikachu didn't give it the chance.
The moment Miltank uncurled to use its recovery move, Pikachu struck. A blur of yellow, almost too fast for the cameras to capture, and then—
Zippy Zap.
The electric attack hit Miltank with enough force to send the cow Pokémon flying backward, crashing into the barrier at the edge of the arena. Lightning crackled across its body, residual electricity making its fur stand on end.
Miltank struggled to rise, clearly still in the fight despite the devastating blow. But Pikachu was already moving, closing the distance with impossible speed.
Another Zippy Zap. Then another. Then another.
Each attack was a guaranteed critical hit, each blow landing with perfect precision. Miltank couldn't defend, couldn't dodge, couldn't do anything except absorb punishment that would have taken down Pokémon twice its size.
When the lightning finally faded, Miltank was unconscious. The battle had lasted less than thirty seconds.
The crowd was silent. Completely, utterly silent.
Whitney stared at her fallen Miltank, her mouth hanging open in disbelief. She had lost. Not just lost—been completely demolished by a single Pikachu, without even managing to land a hit.
"That..." she said slowly, her voice carrying in the stunned quiet. "That wasn't normal. That wasn't a normal Pikachu."
He shrugged slightly, reaching down to scoop up the partner Pikachu as it returned to his side. The electric-type was barely breathing hard, its expression one of satisfied contentment.
Whitney recalled her Miltank, her hands trembling slightly as she pressed the button. Then she looked up at him, and her expression shifted from shock to something else entirely.
Respect. Pure, undiluted respect.
"I understand now," she said quietly. "I understand why you're the Champion. Why no one can beat you." She bowed—a deep, formal bow that he hadn't expected from someone so brash. "Thank you for the battle. I learned more in those thirty seconds than I have in years of training."
He nodded in acknowledgment, unsure how else to respond.
The crowd erupted. Cheers and screams and applause that seemed to shake the very ground. People were crying, laughing, hugging each other as if they had just witnessed something historic.
Which, he supposed, they had.
Red, the Silent Champion, had descended from Mt. Silver and defeated a Gym Leader in seconds. The news would spread across the entire region by nightfall. By tomorrow, it would be international headlines.
He looked at the chaos surrounding him—the cameras, the crowds, the overwhelming intensity of public attention—and felt a sudden, powerful longing for his quiet cave on top of the mountain.
But he wasn't done yet. There was still so much to see, so much to learn about this world he had been thrust into.
He would endure the attention. He would explore Johto. He would gather information and make connections and figure out what was happening in the region he was supposed to be champion of.
And then, when he was ready, he would return to Mt. Silver.
But for now—for this moment—he was exactly where he needed to be.
The partner Pikachu chirped happily on his shoulder, still holding its plushie, clearly pleased with its performance. He scratched behind its ears, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
Not bad, he thought. Not bad at all.
The crowd continued to cheer, the cameras continued to roll, and the legend of Red continued to grow.
In the Hall of Origin, Arceus observed the chaos in Goldenrod City with something that might have been amusement.
He has made quite an entrance, Dialga observed.
He always does, Arceus replied. Whether he intends to or not.
The attention will be useful, Palkia noted. It establishes his presence, reminds the world that he exists, prepares them for the role he will eventually play.
Yes, Arceus agreed. But more than that—it forces him to engage with the world. To see it not as an abstraction, but as a reality filled with people who love and fear and hope.
The viewing pool showed Red making his way through the crowd, signing autographs and posing for photos with the resigned patience of someone who had accepted his fate.
He is learning, Arceus said quietly. Learning what it means to be a symbol. What it means to carry the hopes of others.
It is a heavy burden, Giratina observed from the shadows.
Yes. But he will bear it. He always does.
The Alpha Pokémon's golden light pulsed with something that looked remarkably like pride.
He always does.