A few days later.
They were already close to Cerulean City.
The morning forest clearing was still wrapped in a thin mist.
Golden sunlight struggled through the leaves, breaking into scattered specks on the ground.
Meowth stood in front of a thick tree trunk, jaw clenched, tiny beads of sweat on its forehead.
Time and again, it swung its claws, trying to pull out that power it longed for—sharp, glittering, like golden shooting stars—
Swift.
Ash had been putting it through training for the past few days, laying the groundwork with obsessive persistence.
But every attempt ended the same way: a faint flicker of white at the tips of its claws, like a candle in the wind—then nothing. Not even a scratch on the bark.
"Meow! Darn it! Failed again, nya!" Meowth raked at its own ear, eyes full of agitation.
"I told you this wasn't gonna work, nya!"
"A move like that isn't something I can learn at all!"
It slumped to the ground, shoulders sagging, tail dragging weakly through the fallen leaves.
Meowth was stubborn and hard-working. Anyone could see that from the fact it had managed to walk upright and speak human language.
But…
Back then, when it learned to walk and talk, it at least got some kind of feedback.
This time there was nothing.
They'd been at it for days and it was still stuck at "faint little spark."
By the dying campfire a short distance away—
Misty couldn't help muttering under her breath. "Ash, come on… maybe that's enough?"
"This Meowth's body just isn't suited for a move that needs such precise energy control and projection."
"Aren't you forcing it a bit?"
She watched Meowth's slumped shoulders and deeply frustrated face.
She didn't like Team Rocket, but this was… kind of pitiful.
There really were differences between individual Pokémon. That was just reality.
Brock folded his arms, analyzing calmly. "Misty has a point."
"Swift needs very fine control over condensed Normal-type energy."
"With Meowth's current physical condition, that's a huge burden—and the success rate is low."
His gaze lingered on Meowth's paws, trembling slightly after repeated failed attempts.
As a Breeder, he preferred slow, progressive foundation-building, not brute-forcing advanced moves.
Jessie, tied to a nearby tree with a gag in her mouth, still managed to communicate perfectly with wild eyes and furious "Mmm! Mmmm!" noises.
Her look clearly said:
If that useless cat learns Swift, I'll eat my Arbok's Poké Ball!
Honestly, she did want Meowth to pull it off.
But her mouth was too toxic, so Ash had gagged her.
That, of course, only made her more contrary and more tsundere about it.
Jessie: I don't care! I totally don't care! (Deeply invested.)
James, tied beside her, watched Meowth's back—over and over failing, over and over standing up again—with a complicated expression.
His lips moved silently, as if mouthing: Come on, Meowth…
Ash took in everyone's reactions, including that flicker of quiet encouragement in James's eyes.
He walked over to the dejected Meowth, crouched down in front of it, and spoke in a calm, steady voice that somehow brooked no argument.
"Look at me, Meowth."
Ash felt the timing was finally right.
Meowth looked up on instinct—and met Ash's eyes.
Under the brim of his cap, those eyes looked so deep they could swallow light.
"How many times have you failed?" Ash asked.
"153 times, nya…" Meowth's voice was low.
It felt like its whole life had gotten stuck here.
That brat had to have been lying to it before.
I really am… a useless Pokémon, nya…
"Only 153 failures and you're already shaken?" Ash's tone didn't ripple at all. It was like he was reading off a lab report.
"But… they all said… I can't do it, nya…" Meowth's gaze dropped.
"'They'?" Ash's voice took on the quiet cadence of a priest in a chapel.
"Why are you letting 'them' define you?"
His voice dropped further, carrying a strange, hypnotic weight, like it was echoing directly in Meowth's chest.
"Limits exist to be broken."
"Trust has its bounds, Meowth."
"You trust common sense. You trust other people's judgment. You even trust your own past failures…"
"But why have you never tried trusting my judgment—my assertion that you can do it?"
"If you're willing to believe 'common sense,' then why not try believing in the 'truth' I'm describing?"
"Do you even understand what you mean when you say 'I can't'?"
"When those three words come out of your mouth… are they a conclusion built from facts—"
"Or are they just an excuse to comfort that part of you that fears change and dreads being hurt again—"
"That weak, frightened self?"
Ash extended a finger, tapping his own chest lightly—
Then slowly pointed at Meowth's heart.
"Admiration is the distance farthest from understanding."
"You admire strength, but you've never really understood what strength is."
"A heart that believes—that's the condition Pokémon need to take that step past their limits."
"This isn't deception, Meowth."
"This is the reality I'm describing."
"And you should believe me."
"Right now."
"Try Swift again."
The moment the words left his mouth—
[Confirm: Use TM 'Swift' on Pokémon: Meowth]
[Use successful]
Ash's will finished the operation in the system.
And at the exact instant his final syllable fell—
Hearing his words, Meowth moved purely on instinct.
Its eyes flew wide.
A surge of pure, raging Normal-type energy erupted from deep within its body, completely without warning.
The energy felt so natural, as if it had always been part of its blood and had simply been woken up.
Without thinking, guided by that flash of inspiration, Meowth slashed its paw forward again.
"Meoooow—!"
This time, there was no weak little flicker of white.
Several razor-edged, dazzling star-shaped projectiles, each trailing golden light, burst from the tips of its claws.
They whistled through the air, spinning, carrying terrifying speed and impact—
And slammed precisely into the tree trunk in front of it.
"BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG!!!"
A volley of explosions hammered through the clearing.
Wood chips flew.
When the light faded, a cluster of deep craters scarred the solid bark.
Swift.
Perfect hit.
Silence.
The Oran Berry in Misty's hand dropped with a soft plop into the grass.
Brock's rock-like expression shattered; his mouth actually fell open.
Jessie's eyes bulged so hard they looked ready to pop, even the muffled "Mmmph!" in her throat stuck halfway.
James's eyes lit up with raw, disbelieving joy.
Even Pikachu clapped its paws over its mouth.
"Pika…?!"
Meowth stared dumbly at its paws.
Then at the ravaged tree trunk.
As if it couldn't comprehend what had just happened.
It… it did it?
It really used Swift?
Right then, Ash's voice floated into its ears again—
That same low, addictive tone, threading through the stunned silence of the forest:
"See?"
"What you just did—could anyone else have the right to decide that for you?"
"From this moment on… work to make the world follow your rules, Meowth."
"The world has limits."
"But your heart doesn't."
"Because I said so."
Meowth's head snapped up.
It looked at the boy standing there, half in light, half in shadow.
Ash's silhouette, framed in broken sunlight, seemed impossibly tall.
The faint curve of his lips carried a hint of distant mercy.
He—
Was so bright.
So dazzling.
…Nya.
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