"Ash~!"
Yellow's voice rang out first, light but sharp with worry. Almost at the same instant, a familiar yellow blur shot through the air and landed squarely on Ash's shoulder.
"Pika~ Wigachu!"
Pikachu clung tightly to him, tiny paws gripping his collar as his black eyes scanned Ash from head to toe, as if checking whether he was truly unharmed. Though Pikachu had been startled by Ash's sudden leap earlier, there was no fear now—only relief.
Having been with Ash for so long, he knew this was simply how his trainer was.
Images flickered through Pikachu's mind: a reckless boy diving forward to save a Kangaskhan child from falling, a desperate shout, and then the sudden, miraculous appearance of Mew. Both of them had survived that day.
Seeing Ash react the same way now—without hesitation, without thought for himself—made Pikachu's chest feel strangely warm.
"I'm alright." Ash's voice was steady as he spoke, patting Pikachu's head lightly before gesturing behind him.
"That Umbreon used Confusion to take Metapod's weight and absorb most of the impact."
Yellow turned at once, her gaze falling on the sleek, black Umbreon standing a short distance away. The Pokémon's golden rings still faintly shimmered as the psychic energy dissipated.
"Thank you."
Yellow bowed deeply, her gratitude sincere and unguarded.
Umbreon let out a soft, almost embarrassed coo in response, ears twitching. She shifted her paws awkwardly before hopping back beside her trainer, moving with a reserved grace that made it clear she didn't enjoy being the centre of attention.
"Thank you."
Ash echoed the sentiment, offering a small nod toward Umbreon and her trainer. The trainer scratched the back of his head, clearly uncomfortable under the lingering gazes of the surrounding crowd.
"It's alright," he replied after a moment. "Let's battle sometime—together." Ash smiled at that. "I'd like that."
Before the moment could settle, a firm voice cut in. "That was reckless, Ash." Wayden from the elite fighting club crossed his arms, his expression stern but not unkind.
"I know you were worried about your Pokémon," he continued, "but we're all trainers here. None of us would've let that Metapod get harmed under our watch." Ash blinked, momentarily caught off guard.
Ash blinked, momentarily caught off guard.
As Wayden spoke, Ash finally noticed what he had missed in his tunnel vision—several trainers nearby still had their Psychic-type Pokémon out. Alakazam, Espeon, Hypno… all of them were alert, their trainers watching him with faint, knowing smiles.
Something inside Ash shifted.
He realised then how narrow his thinking had been. Being a trainer wasn't just about standing alone with your Pokémon. It was a profession built on trust—on helping one another without hesitation.
"But", Wayden added, his tone softening, "we respect that will of yours." Matthew stepped forward then, giving Ash's shoulder a firm pat.
"You moved before anyone else even thought to. That matters." A ripple of applause followed. Not loud, not overwhelming—but genuine. Ash felt his ears heat up slightly. He gave a short bow in response before turning on his heel.
"Sorry—I need to get Metapod checked." With that, he hurried off toward the Pokémon Center, Metapod cradled carefully in his arms. Behind him, Wayden watched his retreating figure, eyes thoughtful.
"He's reckless," Wayden muttered, "but he's a good trainer. That Caterpie… It must've been with him for a long time." Matthew nodded in agreement—until another voice joined in.
"Actually," Kalios said casually, stepping forward, "he caught that Caterpie this afternoon."
Silence fell.
"I saw it myself," Kalios added. "We were travelling together." Mathew and Wayden both turned to him sharply. A few trainers nearby stiffened, eyes widening.
"Must be joking," someone muttered under their breath. "He's not lying." Palo, who had remained quiet the entire time, finally spoke. His gaze was calm, unreadable.
"I'm good at reading people. He isn't lying." That was enough. Something ignited behind Wayden's eyes—a serious, burning interest. While Matthew looked at the direction in which Ash had left and smiled.
If that was true… then that boy wasn't just talented.
He was dangerous.
And exciting.
None of them minded that.
In fact, they were already looking forward to facing him again.
Unaware of the stir he had caused, Ash continued toward the Pokémon Center. Metapod rested securely in his arms, heavy enough to make most trainers struggle—but Ash carried him as if the weight were nothing.
"Froa~" A blue blur hopped up and landed neatly on Ash's other shoulder. Pikachu, now perched comfortably atop Ash's head, glanced over and grinned. "Pika~" It sounded almost like a greeting.
Ash chuckled softly. "So… what do you think?" he asked while walking. "Are you up for it?"
Misty and Yellow followed a short distance behind, watching the strange but oddly harmonious trio. They smiled.
"Froa~"
Froakie answered, his eyes sharp with intent. There was no hesitation—only a clear condition in his posture. He wanted strong opponents. He didn't care about type matchups or advantages.
Ash understood, even if only partially.
"That's fine," Ash said easily. "We'll fight strong ones." Froakie's gaze flickered with approval. Ash remembered something then—a distant memory of a blue figure standing tall, water and aura intertwining in perfect harmony. Ash-Greninja.
A shiver ran quietly down his spine.
With a decisive hop, Froakie jumped down and tapped the Poké Ball at Ash's waist. A red beam enveloped him, and in the next instant, the ball clicked shut. It was done.
"Congratulations, Ash." Yellow stepped forward, smiling brightly.
Misty slowed her steps, watching them from behind. Something unfamiliar stirred in her chest—a quiet, strange feeling she didn't quite understand yet.
'I'll stay with him,' she thought. 'From here on out.' Travelling with Ash was never boring. And somehow, she always found herself learning something new—about Pokémon, about battling… and about herself.
If Ash had heard her thoughts, he would've laughed and labelled her as the textbook dense-type protagonist. Not that he minded. He would let her figure it out in her own time. "Congratulations, Ash."
"Hehe! Thank you." Ash smiled, unaware that the path ahead had just grown far more interesting.
At the Pokémon Center, Nurse Joy carefully examined Metapod, her practised hands moving with gentle precision. After a short but thorough check-up, she confirmed that he had only suffered exhaustion and minor strain—nothing rest couldn't fix.
Riolu and Pidgeotto were also sent in for therapy massages. The rhythmic hum of healing machines and the faint scent of medicinal herbs filled the room as both Pokémon relaxed under professional care. By the time they were released, Riolu's posture had loosened noticeably, and Pidgeotto let out a satisfied chirp, feathers fluffing up with renewed energy.
With everything settled, the group gathered for dinner.
Kalios and Alber were still buzzing with excitement, replaying moments of the battle over and over, their voices animated and hands gesturing wildly. Laughter echoed around the table as food disappeared plate by plate. Elsa and the others eventually took their leave, exhaustion finally catching up to them.
Ash, however, decided to stay a bit longer.
Misty and Yellow shared the same thought, neither voicing it outright, but both naturally falling into step beside him. For now, the trio remained at the Pokémon Center.
Back in his room, Ash lay down on the bed, the soft sheets sinking beneath his weight. The fatigue he had been ignoring finally crept in, his muscles relaxing one by one. Just as he closed his eyes, a faint chime echoed in his mind.
[Guild Reopening.]
Ash's eyes snapped open.
A surge of excitement washed over him as he consciously opened the system tab. The moment he clicked the notification, his vision blurred, the room melting away as drowsiness overtook him.
Then—He opened his eyes again. He was standing inside a vast hall. The air felt familiar. "Oh, Ash." A familiar voice called him.
"Hey there, kid. Long time no see." Voices rang out from all sides.
Ash turned, his gaze landing on familiar faces—faces he hadn't seen in what felt like a lifetime. Members of the same guild. The same group that had shaped him when he was at his weakest.
"Ash! Already out on a journey?"
A man with thick glasses stepped forward, pushing them up his nose as he grinned.
"Yeah," Ash replied, smiling back. "Just started a few days ago. I'm an official trainer now." He couldn't help the pride in his voice.
These people… they were all geniuses in their own way. It was thanks to them that he had gained so many skills at the very beginning. Pikachu's development—especially before experiencing real battles—was something none of this world could explain.
But they could.
"Good," the man said, nodding approvingly. "Then let's do this. Ash, download this application on your system drive. With it, you'll be able to chat with us anytime—no need to wait for another Guild reopening." A notification popped up instantly.
Ash didn't hesitate and confirmed the download. The man before him was a professor in his original dimension—the brain behind most of the guild's discoveries. Inventor, theorist, lunatic genius.
They called him Maddoc.
"ASH!" Another voice boomed as someone suddenly wrapped an arm around his shoulder. "So how's it going with that kid, Yellow? Believe me, she'll turn into a real stunner when she grows up. Don't let her slip away." Ash stiffened slightly.
Others groaned in unison. "She's travelling with me," Ash replied flatly. The man burst into laughter.
Everyone here knew him—a notorious charmer who had somehow ended up married to the champion of his world. A complete scumbag by their standards.
And yet, absurdly popular. "Ignore him," someone said calmly as another group approached. Five figures, their presence heavier, sharper.
"So," one of them spoke, eyes keen. "What's your current lineup?"
Ash straightened instinctively.
The man standing before him was known as the Master of Tactic. A control-type specialist whose team was so dangerous that he could crush champions head-on. The only one in the guild who had consistently beaten him stood just beside him.
"I caught a Caterpie," Ash said, bringing up the data and sharing it. The information hovered in the air. Silence followed.
Then—
"Oh wow." Master Path let out a slow breath, rubbing his chin. "That kind…" he muttered. "It's his favourite." The Tactic Master's lips curved into a rare smile.
"Well done, Ash," he said. "I'll help you groom it." There was genuine excitement in his voice.
They were investing in Ash. Every single one of them.
Training him. Guiding him. Shaping him.
Well—everyone except the scumbag, who was deemed entirely useless by collective agreement. As Ash stood there, surrounded by familiar voices and old allies, he felt something settle deep within him.