"Alright, kid. That did it."
Brandon's voice dropped low, sharp with irritation. The calm, professional mask he had worn earlier cracked completely. Ash noticed it immediately—and smiled.
'That was easy,' he thought.
People in this world really were simple sometimes. Brandon wasn't stupid; Ash could tell that much. He was the scheming type, the kind who smiled while planning trouble behind your back. The kind who wouldn't dirty his own hands but would push others forward instead.
'Still,' Ash mused, 'if he tries to stir up strong trainers against me, that's more like a feast than a threat.' Brandon might even end up thanking him for the growth.
"Ash, good luck." Daisy walked up beside him and casually patted his head, fingers ruffling his hair without a shred of hesitation.
Ash frowned immediately. "Hey—stop petting my head. I'm not a kid, Sister Daisy." She laughed softly. "Alright, alright." Then, before he could react, she leaned down slightly and planted a quick peck on his cheek.
"Good luck, Ash." She straightened up and walked away as if nothing had happened, taking a seat in the viewing gallery. Crossing her legs, she rested her chin on her hand and smiled at him openly.
Ash stood there, frozen, staring at her with a stiff expression.
Daisy noticed—and smiled wider. She really did enjoy teasing him.
To her, Ash was still a kid. Eighteen or not, that didn't change much in her eyes. Especially when he reacted like that. "Yep… she definitely has me wrapped around her finger," Ash muttered under his breath.
Across the field, Brandon glared at him, his irritation visibly deepening. Ash noticed—and paused. 'Wait…' His eyes flicked briefly toward Daisy, then back to Brandon.
'Is he trying to pursue Daisy or something?' Otherwise, the reaction didn't make sense. The anger felt personal—too personal. Ash shook his head slightly.
'Whatever.' His focus snapped into place.
Battle mode. On.
"It'll be a one-on-one match," the man standing beside Brandon announced. He gave his friend a sideways glance and let out a quiet sigh, as if already tired of what was coming.
Ash nodded lightly.
He glanced briefly at the girl sitting on the bench near Brandon's side. She looked calm, but there was something off about the way she sat—quiet, distant.
Ash felt a twinge of pity. The guy didn't even spare her a glance. All of his attention was locked onto Daisy. 'She's pretty, sure,' Ash thought, 'but ignoring the girl you came with entirely?'
'Idiot.'
He shrugged it off just as quickly. As in this world, polygamy was not an uncommon practice. Even Ash's father might have few. Though he doesn't know who he is. 'Not my problem. It's their life.'
"Come out, Machoke!"
A burst of red light flashed across the battlefield, solidifying into a towering, muscular figure. Machoke landed heavily, cracking the ground beneath its feet. Its arms flexed instinctively, veins bulging as it let out a low, confident grunt.
Ash's eyes lit up instantly. Machoke—a pure Fighting-type. Incredible physical strength. Solid endurance. A wide movepool that made it terrifying in close combat. Plus, one has to know the fighting type has a lot of disadvantages too, but with Ash's idea, he has a complete idea of how to reduce it.
And training it to only attack would be rather fun. No defence; only the best attack will be their best defence.
'Nice,' he thought.
He even felt a small spark of desire. Ash had always wanted one for himself. And Machamp—especially with its Gigantamax form—was an absolute monster on the battlefield.
"La~!" Ralts tugged at his collar lightly, floating up with excitement, clearly wanting to jump in herself.
Ash smiled and gently steadied her. "Not this time." He reached for a Poké Ball and tossed it forward smoothly. "Let's do it, Butterfree." The ball burst open, releasing a familiar flutter of wings as Butterfree took the field, scales shimmering faintly under the sunlight.
As Butterfree hovered calmly in the air, Ash suddenly understood.
'So that's why Daisy wanted Butterfree today.' Ash thought of it inwardly. His mind was already thinking about what his command line would shape up to be.
Psychic abilities. Natural advantage against Fighting types. And on top of that—Butterfree's appearance. 'Yeah…' Brandon was definitely going to look down on him.
And that, Ash decided, was going to make this even more fun.
"La~…"
Little Ralts sulked, floating slightly lower beside Ash's shoulder. She had really wanted to prove herself—to show Ash how strong she could be in a real fight. But seeing Ash's focus settle completely onto the battlefield, sharp and unwavering, she swallowed her disappointment.
'Next time.' She straightened up and turned toward Butterfree instead, small fists clenched. "La~! Lalu~!" The meaning was clear enough—beat the living daylights out of him.
"Wee~!"
Butterfree replied with a bright chirp, wings fluttering faster. Ash could feel it immediately. Butterfree was excited. Hyped, even. A newcomer had joined the team, and Butterfree had no intention of being overshadowed.
This was his stage. "Let the battle begin!" the referee shouted, raising his arm and bringing it down sharply.
"Machoke, use Bulk Up!" Brandon commanded without hesitation. A sharp whizz filled the air as energy surged around Machoke's body. Its muscles swelled further, veins bulging as it let out a confident grunt. The pressure alone made the ground beneath its feet creak faintly.
Ash didn't hesitate. "Butterfree—Energy Ball!" But before the green light could fully form—
Butterfree had already moved.
His wings beat in a sharp rhythm, activating Tailwind. The air behind him twisted, boosting his speed instantly. He spun gracefully, gathering energy between his feelers, compressing it tighter than usual.
Brandon's eyes narrowed. The Energy Ball condensed—denser, brighter, far more lethal than its usual form.
Woosh.
The attack shot forward at a sharp angle, screaming through the air straight toward Machoke's arm. Machoke reacted instantly.
His stance shifted like a trained martial artist, weight transferring smoothly as he sidestepped. "Bullet Punch!" Brandon barked.
Machoke's fist shot forward, steel-hard.
The punch collided with the [Energy Ball]. For a brief moment, it looked like the attack would overpower the strike—
Then the second punch came in.
A rapid follow-up jab slammed into the core of the attack, dispersing it completely in a violent burst of light. "Haaa!"
Machoke stomped forward heavily, closing the distance with frightening speed. The battlefield was wide, dotted with small hills and scattered trees. As Machoke charged, Ash's eyes sharpened.
'He's forcing Butterfree toward the terrain.'
The slope rose ahead.
Then Ash's eyes lit up.
'Alright… let's see what you do with it.' Brandon smiled. "Use the terrain. Climb and jump—Bullet Punch!" Machoke kicked off the rock face, muscles coiling and releasing explosively. He climbed faster than expected, leaping upward with terrifying momentum.
Butterfree realized the danger too late and tried to pull back—
But Machoke was already airborne.
"Now!"
"Butterfree—Gust!" Ash's voice cut through cleanly. Butterfree moved on instinct. His wings snapped outward, unleashing a concentrated blast of wind. The gust hit Machoke head-on, not as a light breeze but as a solid wall of air.
Machoke's eyes widened.
Gust was common. Weak, even—when used on grounded targets.
But this?
This was midair.
The knockback effect slammed into Machoke's body, completely disrupting his momentum. His massive frame was hurled backward, spinning violently before crashing into the ground with a heavy thud.
The earth shook. "Machoke!" Brandon called out, confusion flashing across his face. Machoke groaned, trying to push himself up. His physique was monstrous, his endurance incredible—but the timing was brutal.
Ash didn't raise his voice.
"Finish it. Confusion." A wave of psychic energy rippled outward, invisible yet crushing.
Butterfree hovered calmly as the attack struck. Machoke stiffened, his movements faltering as the psychic pressure overwhelmed his senses. His mind buckled before his body could react.
With a final low grunt, Machoke collapsed, unconscious.
Silence followed.
Ash chose Confusion deliberately. A psychic attack targeted the mind, not the body—ending the battle without worsening Machoke's physical injuries.
The referee blinked, then raised his arm. "Machoke is unable to battle! Butterfree wins!"
"La~!" Ralts cheered, floating excitedly again. Butterfree let out a proud chirp, wings glowing faintly as he hovered higher.
Ash smiled quietly.