Pikachu hit the dirt, the static from his cheeks scorching the grass. He didn't wait for a command; his body was already coiled like a high-tension spring.
"Cha!"
The Scyther didn't hesitate. It was a veteran of the deep woods, and it moved with the predatory grace of a natural-born killer. It vanished, its Quick Attack reducing it to a green blur that tore through the air toward Pikachu.
"Aerial pivot," Ash commanded, his voice a calm anchor in the chaos.
Pikachu used his lightning-bolt tail as a lever, launching himself into a backflip just as Scyther's blades whistled through the space he had occupied milliseconds before.
"Now—Iron Tail. Bury it."
Scyther tried to adjust mid-air, its wings buzzing as it crossed its blades into an X-Scissor to catch the descending blow. But Pikachu wasn't just falling; he was accelerating. His tail took on the luster of tempered steel, glowing with a cold, metallic light.
Bang!
The collision sent a shockwave through the clearing. Scyther's instinctual block held for a moment, but the sheer kinetic force of the "Actor" in high gear was undeniable. The Mantis Pokémon was slammed back into the earth, the impact carving a shallow crater into the forest floor.
"Finish it. Thunder," Ash ordered, his eyes cold and focused.
Pikachu didn't need to be told twice. He drew in the surrounding static, his fur standing on end as a pillar of divine, golden lightning erupted from his core and lanced down from the canopy. The roar of the strike deafened the forest. When the light faded, Scyther lay scorched and motionless, the scent of ozone hanging heavy in the air.
Ash didn't celebrate. He reached for a standard Poké Ball and flicked his wrist. The sphere arced perfectly, striking Scyther's shoulder with a sharp clack. The red light drew the bug in, and the ball fell to the grass, wobbling once, twice, then clicking shut with a definitive hiss.
Pikachu retrieved the ball, holding it up with both paws. Ash took it, and for a fleeting second, the old habit took over. He struck the classic pose, the ball held high, a shout of "I caught a Scyther!" on his lips.
He stopped mid-breath. A flush of heat hit his neck.
God, that's embarrassing, he thought, pulling his hand back and looking around to make sure no one—not even a wandering Caterpie—had seen him. He was a grown man in a boy's body; the theatricality felt like wearing a suit three sizes too small.
"Never again," he muttered to Pikachu, who just tilted his head in confusion.
He tapped the ball's interface, pulling up the new recruit's data.
[Analysis: Scyther]
Individual Values: 4V (Perfect Attack and Speed)
Ability: Steadfast
Strength: Superior Level (Peak)
Notes: A lethal glass cannon. Ideal candidate for Metal Coat evolution into Scizor.
"Not a 6V," Ash noted, clipping the ball to his belt, "but the distribution is perfect where it counts. You'll do."
He turned his gaze toward the west. The trees here grew thicker, their gnarled roots forming a natural fortress. This was the territory of the Pidgey and Spearow flocks—the place where he had left a piece of his heart years ago.
He walked into the gloom of the dense canopy, Pikachu's ears twitching at every rustle. Finally, they reached a clearing that looked hauntingly familiar. It was here that a young trainer had made a promise he hadn't known would take a lifetime to keep.
Ash stood in the center of the grove. The wind stirred the leaves, carrying the distant cries of bird Pokémon. He took a deep, steadying breath, feeling the weight of twenty years of "scripted" absence lifting from his shoulders.
"Pidgeot!" he roared, his voice echoing through the timber like a clarion call. "The woods are safe! I'm here to bring you home!"
The forest went silent. For a long moment, there was nothing but the rustle of the wind. Then, from the highest reaches of the canopy, a sharp, piercing cry answered.
A shadow larger than any Pidgey or Pidgeotto swept across the clearing. A majestic bird, its plumage a brilliant mix of cream and crimson, dived through the branches with surgical precision. It landed with a powerful beat of its wings, kicking up a storm of leaves.
Pidgeot stood tall, its sharp eyes locking onto Ash's. There was no hesitation, no resentment—only the deep, unshakable recognition of a partner.
Ash stepped forward, his hand trembling slightly as he reached out to stroke the bird's noble crest. "I'm sorry I was late. But from here on out... we fly together."
Pidgeot let out a soft, trilling coo, leaning its head into Ash's palm. The veteran team was almost complete.