Blue pushed back from the table.
He did it with the finality of someone who has finished eating and finished the portion of the morning that required sitting down, both at the same time, in one motion.
"Gary wants a rematch," he said, to Ash. Not a question. Not a request. The announcement of something already in progress. "Come with me."
He picked up his coat from the back of his chair and looked down the table.
At Red.
"You come if you want," he said.
He said it the way he said most things — directly, without softening, the offer placed on the table and left there with no particular weight attached to it, take it or leave it, entirely Red's decision what to do with it.
He turned toward the door.
Red set down his cup.
He stood up.
He didn't say anything. He didn't look at anyone. He simply stood with the complete economy of someone who had made a decision and was now executing it, and followed Blue toward the door.
Blue, already in the hallway, did not turn around.
But something in his posture — some very slight shift in the set of his shoulders, barely visible, there and gone — said that he had heard Red stand up, and had noted it, and was not going to make anything of it.
Ash looked at his plate.
Finished his last mouthful.
"Pika," Pikachu said, already on his feet.
Outside the morning was fully bright.
The three of them walked through Pallet Town in a configuration the town noted immediately, because Pallet Town was small and observant and had long since developed a sensitivity to configurations involving Ash Ketchum that suggested something worth watching. Two men walking with him — one tall and known, loud in the way of someone who had grown up here and left and returned with the full weight of what he'd accomplished in the meantime, and one that nobody had seen in eleven years but that everyone recognised immediately, because there were faces that embedded themselves in a town's memory and stayed there regardless of how long the person had been absent.
Curtains shifted. Someone came out of their front door for no obvious reason. Old Mr. Tanaka from the hardware store happened to be sweeping his step at precisely this moment and watched them pass with the focused attention of someone filing something carefully.
Ash walked between them and looked at the road ahead.
"Pika pi," Pikachu said, from his shoulder, conducting a private census of the town's reaction.
"I know," Ash said.
The Pokémon Centre sat at the edge of town proper, where the main road widened before it continued toward Viridian. Newer than most of the buildings around it — three years old, built with intention and care, the Joy family's characteristic architecture, pink-roofed and precisely maintained.
It existed because of Ash.
More specifically because of Ash's engagement with Lina Joy, which had given the Joy family the opening they'd been waiting for — a formal connection to Pallet Town that Oak's stewardship alone hadn't provided. The town had been Oak's domain for decades. The Pokémon Centre changed that, quietly and permanently, and everyone in Pallet Town understood the shape of that arrangement even if nobody said it out loud.
The battle arena was attached to the east side. Proper dimensions, proper surfacing, tiered seating along both lengths, a scoreboard, the kind of arena that took battling seriously.
Lina was at the front desk.
She saw them coming through the glass doors and her expression did several things in quick succession — recognition of Ash, recognition of Blue, recognition of Red which produced a slightly different quality of reaction, and then a rapid assessment of the overall configuration that landed accurately on this is going to be a full battle and I am going to have concerns about it.
She came around the desk.
"Ash," she said. Then she looked at Red directly and inclined her head.
"Father-in-law," she said. "Welcome to our Centre. We're honoured."
Red looked at her.
Something in his expression — very slight, barely there — received this. The specific quality of someone hearing something said correctly and noting it.
"Your mother is well," he said. Not a question.
"She is," Lina said. "She'll want to see you." A brief pause, then practical: "Full battle?"
"Four on four," Ash said.
She pressed her lips together in the specific expression of a nurse who had accepted that people were going to do things she had medical reservations about and had decided preparedness was more useful than argument.
"Revival equipment will be ready," she said. "I'll be watching."
Both a statement and a warning.
She turned — and stopped.
Nurse Joy senior was already in the medical wing doorway. Standing very straight with the composed emotion of someone who had been waiting a long time for something and was not going to make a scene about it finally arriving.
She looked at Red.
"Lina's Father-in-law," she said, with the formal warmth of a woman who had built this Centre in this town partly because of the connection between their families. "It has been too long."
"Yes," Red said. Acknowledgement and apology and agreement, simultaneously.
She nodded, satisfied, and looked toward the arena entrance. Then followed them in.
Gary was already on the arena floor.
Of course he was. Gary arrived early to things he cared about and on time to things he didn't and never arrived late to anything, which was one of the ways he was exactly like his father.
He was on the far side putting Umbreon through warm-up drills with the focused attention of someone who had been here long enough to be properly ready. Umbreon moved through the patterns with fluid precision, rings glowing steady in the arena light.
"Umbre," Umbreon said, completing a Feint Attack drill with the satisfaction of something that had done it correctly. Good.
"Again," Gary said. "Tighter on the exit."
"Umbre," Umbreon said. I know. And did it again, tighter.
Gary saw them come through the entrance.
Ash. Expected.
Blue, his father. Expected.
Pikachu, already in battle mode — ears up, cheeks active.
Then Red.
Gary went very still for two seconds. He looked at his father in the front row — Blue already settling into his seat with the ease of someone taking a seat he'd been planning to take, offering Gary nothing in the way of guidance.
Characteristic.
Gary looked back at Ash, who had come through the gate on the near side and was standing with the easy unhurried stance of someone not performing anything for anyone.
"Ash," Gary said.
"Gary," Ash said.
"Four on four," Gary said. "No holding back."
"I never do," Ash said.
Gary held his gaze for a moment. Then nodded once.
Umbreon moved to Gary's side.
"Umbre," Umbreon said, looking across at Pikachu. So it's you.
"Pika," Pikachu said. Among others.
The arena was quiet.
By the time the battle started the seating had filled.
Word moved fast in Pallet Town. Professor Oak arrived with the expression of someone who had heard and come immediately, finding a seat in the front row beside Blue. The two of them sat together with the quiet quality of fathers who had raised rivals and were now watching what that had produced.
The girls arrived together.
May and Dawn first, slightly breathless. Misty behind them, not breathless, having anticipated this and left earlier. Serena and Green together. Daisy beside them.
They filed into the seating. As they passed the front desk each of them acknowledged Nurse Joy senior.
"Mrs. Joy," May said, with a brief warm nod.
"Mrs. Joy," Dawn echoed.
Misty nodded. "Mrs. Joy."
Serena inclined her head. "Mrs. Joy. Thank you for having us."
Green, last of them, paused briefly. "Mrs. Joy." Then, quieter: "The Centre looks well."
Nurse Joy senior received all of this with the composed warmth of someone who had been waiting for these girls for years and found the reality of it exactly as she'd hoped.
"You're all welcome here," she said. "Always."
Anabel came in last.
She found a seat at the end of the row and looked at the arena floor. Taking in the dimensions. Both trainers. The Pokémon.
Then she looked at Red.
Red was standing at the arena rail. Not sitting. Standing with his arms at his sides, looking at the arena floor.
Looking at his son.
For the first time.
Anabel looked at him for a moment with her quiet eyes. Then looked back at the arena.
Blue looked at Red from the front row.
"First time seeing him battle," Blue said. Quietly.
Red said nothing.
"He's good," Blue said. "I want you to know that before you see it."
Red said nothing.
Blue nodded once, as if this had been an answer, and looked back at the arena.
Gary sent out Blastoise first.
It appeared on the arena floor with the solid unhurried presence of a Pokémon that had been doing this a long time. It looked at the near side of the arena, at Ash, waiting.
"Blasst," Blastoise said, cannons shifting slightly, settling into position. Ready.
Ash looked at Blastoise.
He reached for his belt.
"Y," he said.
Y landed in the arena.
The seating went quiet.
Not because Y was dramatic about it — Y landed clean and precise, no excess. But the arena registered something anyway. Some quality of recognition. The specific charge of two Pokémon encountering each other across a history that both of them carried.
Blastoise looked at Y.
Y looked at Blastoise.
"Blasst," Blastoise said. Its cannons stilled completely. You.
"Chaaar," Y said. Yes. Steady. Unhurried. Me.
The last time they had stood across an arena from each other Blastoise had been a Squirtle, small and certain, and Y had been a Charmander, and the exchange had ended in three moves. Both of them were different things now. Both of them knew it.
Neither looked away.
Gary looked at Ash.
Ash looked at Gary.
"Begin," Blue said.