"Blastoise — Hydro Cannon!"
The move came fast — both cannons, full pressure, Gary opening with maximum force because he had decided the first exchange was going to say something and had chosen what he wanted it to say.
"Y — up, left!"
Y moved — not away but around, tight lateral displacement, the water column hitting the arena floor exactly where Y had been a half second before and cracking the surfacing in a line.
"Chaaar," Y said, already repositioning. Too slow.
"Blasst," Blastoise said, cannons already tracking. Was it.
"Blastoise — Ice Beam, wide angle!"
Gary had anticipated the repositioning — called the Ice Beam to cut off Y's lateral movement, force it back to centre, limit its options.
"Y — Flamethrower, straight through!"
Y didn't dodge the Ice Beam. It fired through it — the Flamethrower meeting the Ice Beam at the midpoint and converting both into a column of steam that filled the near half of the arena floor in one second.
"Blasst—" Blastoise said, cannons raised, unable to track through the steam. I can't—
"Y — Dragon Claw, through the steam!"
"Chaaar!" Y said, already moving. Yes.
The hit connected before Blastoise fully processed Y's position had changed.
Blastoise skidded back two metres. Dug in. Stayed up.
"Blasst," Blastoise said, breathing harder. Its rings — the inherited muscle memory of years of Gary's training — pulsed once, resetting. Good. Good. That's fine.
Gary exhaled through his nose.
Not rattled. Processing.
"Blastoise," he said, steadily. "Shell. Twenty seconds."
Blastoise tucked — head, limbs, tail — and became a solid blue dome in the centre of the arena. Armoured. Waiting.
The seating shifted. May leaned forward.
"He's giving it time to recover," Dawn said quietly.
"He's also watching what Ash does with the pause," Green said, eyes on the arena floor. "He wants to see how Ash responds to a Pokémon that stops giving him information."
Ash looked at Blastoise's shell.
At the arena floor — the wet patches from the Hydro Cannon, the steam still dissipating, the crack in the surfacing from the impact.
"Y," he said. "Wait."
"Chaaar," Y said. Waiting. It settled into a low stance, tail flame burning steady, watching the shell with the patient attention of something that had learned that patience was a weapon too.
The twenty seconds passed.
Gary called it.
"Blastoise — Hydro Pump!"
Both cannons at full power, the move that ended most exchanges when it landed —
"Y — inside! Dragon Claw!"
Y launched forward, under the arc of the Hydro Pump, inside the range where the cannons couldn't fully depress to track it — the same principle as the first battle, years ago, reversed. Then it had been Ash putting something inside Squirtle's defences. Now Y was doing it itself, having carried the logic of that battle forward into what it had become.
"Blasst—!" Blastoise said, cannons scrambling to reposition. Too close—
Dragon Claw connected.
Blastoise went back hard. Hit the arena wall. Slid down it. Its rings pulsed rapidly — the emergency reset rhythm of something running close to its limit.
It stayed up.
"Blastoise," Gary said, and his voice was completely steady, completely present. No panic. No concession. The voice of someone who had prepared for this possibility and was now in it and continuing. "You're good. Hydro Cannon — direct, don't aim, fire."
"Blasst," Blastoise said, dragging itself forward, cannons charging. Direct. Its rings steadied. Understood.
Y was already resetting from the Dragon Claw, and Blastoise fired directly into the reset — not aimed, not tracked, just straight forward at where Y was in the moment of being between positions.
It caught Y across the left wing.
"Chaaar—" Y said, skidding sideways, one wing pulled in from the impact. That— It righted itself. Checked the wing. Extended it. Fine. That's fine.
The seating was very quiet.
Misty, at the rail, had both hands on it now.
"He planned that," she said, under her breath. "Gary planned that from the shell. He used the twenty seconds to watch Y's reset timing."
"Blasst," Blastoise said, cannons recharging slowly. It looked at Y across the arena with the expression of something that had traded something significant and found the trade acceptable. Now we're talking.
"Chaaar," Y said, regarding Blastoise with what was unmistakably something close to respect. Yes. Now we are.
Gary looked at Ash.
Ash looked at Gary.
Something between them — not warm, not hostile — the acknowledgement of two people watching something real happening on the arena floor and both knowing it.
"Blastoise," Gary said. "Rapid Spin into Aqua Tail — keep it moving."
"Y," Ash said. "Aerial Ace. Don't let it build momentum."
What followed was the longest sequence of the first matchup — both Pokémon moving constantly, Gary using Blastoise's momentum to prevent Y from finding a clean angle, Ash calling Y to disrupt each setup before it fully formed. The arena floor was wet end to end. Steam rose from every impact point. The seating had gone from leaning forward to the specific frozen quality of people watching something they didn't want to interrupt by reacting.
"Blasst—" Blastoise said, spinning, cannons trailing water. Come on. Come on. Stay with me—
"Chaaar—" Y said, cutting through the spin's edge, taking a glancing hit, resetting. You're good. You're really good—
The ninth exchange.
Gary called it — Hydro Cannon, the move that had ended most battles when it connected, called at the moment when Y was coming out of an Aerial Ace and was committed to the trajectory —
"Y — stop. Overheat."
"Chaaar!" Y said. NOW—
Y pulled out of the Aerial Ace entirely, dropped its altitude, and fired Overheat at point blank range into the charging Hydro Cannon.
Fire and water at that proximity produced something that was felt in the front row as much as seen — a concussive wave of steam and heat that sent both Pokémon skidding back from each other to opposite ends of the arena.
The steam cleared slowly.
Y was on one knee. Wing extended for balance. Breathing in the deep, effortful way of something that had given a great deal and was assessing what was left.
"Chaaar," Y said. Up. Get up.
It got up.
Blastoise was on the arena floor.
Its cannons were retracted. Its rings were pulsing — slowly, steadily, the rhythm of something that had done everything it was built to do and had found, at the very end of it, that it wasn't quite enough.
"Blasst," Blastoise said, quietly, to itself. Good fight. Its rings pulsed one more time. Good fight.
It went still.
The arena was silent.
"Blastoise is unable to battle," Oak said, from the front row, in the tone of someone who had been waiting for someone to say it and had decided he would.
Gary looked at his Pokéball.
He recalled Blastoise.
He stood with it in his hand for a moment.
"Good," he said. Quietly. To it. Meaning it completely. "You were good."
He looked up.
Y was still standing on the arena floor, breathing hard, wing half-extended. It looked across at Gary with the expression of something that had met something real and knew it.
"Chaaar," Y said, to the recalled Pokéball in Gary's hand. Yeah. Quietly. You were too.
May had her hand over her mouth.
Dawn was very still beside her.
Green had stopped pretending to read.
Gary reached for his belt.
"Electivire," he said.
Electivire appeared on the arena floor with the crackling energy of something that had been waiting and was not going to pretend otherwise. It looked across at Y — still breathing hard, carrying the weight of the Blastoise exchange — and made an immediate assessment.
"Electivire," Electivire said, electricity already running up its arms. Look at the state of you. Not unkindly. Professionally. This should be interesting.
Ash looked at Y.
"Y," he said.
Y looked at him.
"Chaaar," Y said. I can—
"Y," Ash said again. Just the name. Steady.
Y held his gaze for a moment. Then stepped back from the arena floor with the composed dignity of something that had done what it came to do and knew it.
"Chaaar," Y said, stepping back. Fine. A pause. Fine.
Ash looked at Pikachu.
Pikachu looked at Electivire.
Electivire looked at Pikachu.
"Electivire," Electivire said, tilting its head slightly. You're kidding.
"Pika," Pikachu said. I never kid.
The seating shifted — the collective lean forward of an audience that had just registered the matchup and was recalibrating.
Gary looked at Ash.
"Pikachu against Electivire," he said.
"Yes," Ash said.
Gary looked at Pikachu — the cheeks faintly active, the tail perfectly still, the eyes giving away absolutely nothing.
"You're doing it again," Gary said.
"Am I," Ash said.
"The thing where the call looks wrong."
"Is it working."
Gary looked at the arena floor.
"Ask me in five minutes," he said.
"Electivire — Thunder Punch! Close range, don't give it space!"
Gary had decided immediately — Electivire's advantage was physical and electrical and both of those compounded at close range. Give Pikachu space and Pikachu used it. Don't give it space.
"Electivire!" Electivire said, launching forward. Coming!
"Pikachu — Iron Tail, use the ground!"
"Pika!" Pikachu said, dropping low, tail slamming the arena floor — using the recoil to launch himself sideways, clearing the Thunder Punch by a fraction, the electricity crackling across the air where he'd been.
"Electivire — turn, Thunder Punch follow through!"
Electivire turned in the same motion, the follow-through already committed —
"Pikachu — Quick Attack, underneath!"
"Pika!" Pikachu said, going under the arc, coming up inside Electivire's reach — the place where the Thunder Punch couldn't fully extend — and hitting with a Quick Attack directly into Electivire's midsection.
"Electivire!" Electivire said, stumbling back one step. Hnh. It looked down at where Pikachu had been a moment ago, now already repositioned. Fast. Very fast.
"Pika," Pikachu said. Yes.
"Not bad," Gary said, watching the exchange. He said it without addressing anyone in particular. Just noting. "Electivire — Thunder Wave! Pin it down!"
"Electivire!" Electivire said, releasing the paralysis wave in a wide arc that left Pikachu nowhere to go —
"Pikachu — absorb it!"
The seating made a sound.
"Pika—?" Pikachu said, for just a fraction of a second — genuine surprise, quickly filed, quickly resolved. Oh. Oh, right.
He took the Thunder Wave directly.
The electricity ran over him and into him and he absorbed it the way Pikachu absorbed electric attacks — not without cost, the paralysis effect was real, his movement stuttered for one exchange — but with a great deal less damage than Electivire had calculated.
"Electivire," Electivire said, watching this with something approaching professional displeasure. That's not how that's supposed to work.
Gary stared.
"He absorbed a Thunder Wave," May said, from the seating, in the tone of someone narrating for their own benefit.
"Pikachu has been training with Ash for years," Green said. "He has probably absorbed considerably worse."
"Pika," Pikachu said, shaking off the last of the paralysis with the specific expression of something that has taken a hit and is now incorporating the information. Noted. Next.
"Electivire — don't give it time! Thunder Punch, Thunder Punch, Thunderbolt — combination!"
Gary was calling it fast now — pressure, constant pressure, the combination designed to not give Pikachu the space to find the angle he was looking for. Electivire moved through it with the power and commitment of a Pokémon that had been built for exactly this, each move in the combination landing or nearly landing, pushing Pikachu back across the arena floor.
"Electivire! Electivire! Electivire!" Electivire said, working through the combination. There. There. Almost—
"Pikachu — through the third one!"
"Pika!" Pikachu said, reading the combination rhythm — the first Thunder Punch, the second Thunder Punch, the Thunderbolt completing the arc — going through the third move instead of around it, taking a partial hit from the Thunderbolt's edge and using the momentum of it, the electricity adding to his own charge rather than depleting it.
"Pika—!" Pikachu said, the charge building past resting levels. Yes. Yes, that's it—
Gary saw it.
"Electivire — back! Withdraw from—"
"Pikachu — Thunder!"
The Thunder came from the ground up.
Through the wet arena surface — the Hydro Cannon water from the first matchup still pooled in the arena floor's cracks — channelled upward through the conductivity of it, bypassing Electivire's prepared defences entirely because it hadn't come from the direction Electivire was positioned to receive it.
"Electivire—!" Electivire said, the electricity hitting from below. That's — that's the floor — he used the — how did he—
Electivire went down hard.
Its generators were still sparking when it hit the arena floor, the involuntary discharge of something that had taken a hit it hadn't seen coming and hadn't been able to manage. It lay there for a moment, sparking, processing.
Then it stopped.
The seating was silent for two full seconds.
Then Misty said, from the rail: "He saw the wet patches when he walked in."
"Before the battle started," Green said.
"Before the battle started," Misty confirmed.
"Pika," Pikachu said, in the centre of the arena, in the tone of a formal statement. That's what I thought.
Gary stared at the arena floor for a long moment.
Then he looked at his father in the front row.
Blue looked back at him.
Not with the expression that meant well done. With the expression that meant what are you going to do with this information.
Gary looked back at the arena.
"Good," he said, to Electivire, recalling it. "You were good. The combination was right." He said it the way he said things he meant. "It was the floor. I didn't account for the floor."
He stood on his side of the arena.
Two down. Two left.