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Four Days Later…
The stadium lights flared to life, casting a shimmering blue hue over the water-themed arena. The crowd packed into the Cerulean Gym roared as Daisy Waterflower stepped onto the diving board, her voice amplified by the mic in her hand, echoing across every speaker in the gym.
"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, travelers and trainers from all across Kanto!"
The applause swelled.
"Today marks something truly special," she continued, her voice proud and unwavering. "After weeks of grueling battles and unforgettable matchups, our own Misty Waterflower has achieved her milestone... one thousand official Pokémon battles!"
The crowd erupted into cheers so loud, it rattled the rafters.
Misty, sitting in the VIP section, covered her face with her hands, embarrassed by the attention—but she was smiling, too.
Daisy held up a hand for silence.
"With this milestone, Misty is now officially eligible to apply for Gym Leader of Cerulean City!"
The crowd cheered louder.
Gym leadership wasn't just a title. It was the lifeblood of a city. A Gym Leader brought a year-round influx of challengers, meaning consistent tourism, booming PokéMarts, hotel stays, restaurants packed nightly, and battle fans pouring into stadium seating.
It wasn't just prestige. It was economic power. A Gym Leader changed a city's fate.
"And now," Daisy added, voice rising, "we begin the second stage of our tournament!"
Excitement crackled like static in the air.
"A single-elimination bracket. All our trainers who bested Misty now compete among themselves; for pride, for glory, and of course... for the grand prize!"
The crowd held its breath.
"First up... you know him. You hate him. You love to hate him. The loudest mouth and maybe the most controversial win in this entire tournament..."
A chorus of boos began before his name even dropped.
"Damien Calloway!"
Damien stepped out onto the battlefield in a tailored jacket, his hair wind-blown like he'd walked out of a shampoo commercial. He blew kisses to the audience—who responded with paper fans and foam Poké Balls being thrown at him.
"That's right, let it out!" Damien called with a smug grin. "Can't boo me after I win!"
"And his opponent..." Daisy's voice turned playful. "You know him, you've bought his merch, and if you've laughed at a buff Pikachu in a tank top... he probably sold it to you."
The crowd laughed.
"Give it up for Ash Ketchum!"
Austin walked through the curtain, hands in his pockets, Pikachu on his shoulder. A familiar Pika rumbled from his partner, low and ready. He could feel the weight of eyes—some in support, some in suspicion.
But Austin didn't care.
Across the field, Damien scoffed. "You're bringing that thing into the ring?" He pointed at Pikachu with a smirk. "Hope you packed a toaster, 'cause I'm about to fry your little rat."
Austin didn't flinch.
Pikachu's eyes narrowed, lightning sparking at his cheeks.
The referee raised the flag.
"Begin!"
"Flash Cannon, Scizor!" Damien barked.
Scizor sprang forward, its metallic body gleaming as it charged up a dense orb of silver-white energy between its pincers.
Austin remained calm. "Iron Tail."
Pikachu's tail gleamed white-silver as he slammed it into the surface of the water arena with force that cracked the tiled basin below.
WHOOSH.
A towering geyser of water burst upward, splitting the pool clean down the middle—a mini tsunami crashing down on Scizor.
The crowd gasped as the stadium misted with fine droplets. Water rained over the lights, catching beams of illumination and shimmering like crystal.
Scizor stood, drenched, its wings sputtering from the sudden dousing.
"Thunderbolt," Austin said simply.
"Chu!"
The lightning bolt exploded outward from Pikachu like a sunbeam made of fury. The electricity danced through the soaked battlefield, instantly attracted to the now waterlogged steel-type.
Scizor's eyes widened.
ZAAAAP!
The lightning hit dead on. Sparks erupted across Scizor's carapace, and the air filled with the scent of ozone and scorched metal. The mantis-like Pokémon twitched once then collapsed.
The referee stared for a second, blinking. Then raised the flag.
"Scizor is unable to battle. Pikachu wins."
The crowd lost it. Even the Cerulean Sisters were caught off guard.
"Did that just happen?" Lily whispered.
"I… I think he just one-shotted a Scizor." Violet's jaw was on the floor.
"...Looks like our Austin is more powerful than we thought," Misty said with a smile.
Damien, red in the face, hissed through his teeth. "Beginner's luck." He threw out his next Poké Ball. "Let's show them real power! Electabuzz, let's fry this mouse!"
With a flash of light, the humanoid electric-type landed on the opposite side of the field. Sparks danced across its body as it pounded its fists together, sending out a wave of static.
Austin simply raised an eyebrow.
Pikachu tilted his head, unimpressed.
Damien grinned. "Let's see how your rat handles real voltage."
Austin smiled. "Funny," he said. "That's exactly what Pikachu was thinking."
The referee blew the whistle again as the pool slowly refilled, gentle ripples forming over the surface. Austin exhaled, calm as ever, as he watched Damien practically bouncing with impatience on the other side of the battlefield.
"Electabuzz! Use Thunder!" Damien barked, voice smug with overconfidence.
Austin raised an eyebrow. Thunder? On a Pokémon with no specialized training for accuracy or field condition? That was… bold. No, it was lazy.
Austin's lips tugged into a thin line as he thought, Daddy's money strikes again. That was all this was. Damien didn't train his Pokémon, didn't teach them combinations or timing. He just bought overpowered TMs, slapped them on, and expected to win by brute force.
"Into the pool," Austin said quietly, "and use Double Strike."
Pikachu nodded and leapt into the water with a splash, disappearing beneath the surface like a torpedo.
Electricity gathered between Electabuzz's horns. Damien grinned wide, arms outstretched. "This'll finish your rat!"
The Thunder blasted from Electabuzz in a chaotic bolt of yellow energy. It cracked across the pool with an earsplitting boom, lightning dancing across the surface like living flame. The explosion of steam and light made several in the audience shield their eyes.
But when the smoke cleared… Pikachu was gone.
"Where the hell is it?!" Damien yelled.
Gasps and pointing fingers filled the stadium.
"Above!"
Dozens of Pikachu dropped from the sky like streaks of lightning, Double Team illusions casting flickering shadows across the battlefield.
Damien panicked. "Giga Impact! Take them all out!"
Austin barely held back a snort. Another TM? Seriously?
Electabuzz charged forward with reckless power, fists pulled back, a spiraling purple aura consuming his form. He plowed through the air, bursting through the first illusion. Then another. Then another. And then a yellow blur leapt from the pool like a flash of judgment.
The real Pikachu.
"Sword Strike," Austin called.
Pikachu's tail shimmered like molten steel as it swung wide, catching Electabuzz square in the jaw mid-charge. The impact rang out like a thunderclap.
Electabuzz flew backwards, out of the arena, and straight into the psychic barrier that shimmered around the audience. His limp body slid down with a dull thud, unconscious.
The referee raised his flag.
"Electabuzz is unable to battle!"
The crowd froze stunned then exploded into cheers.
Austin let the applause wash over him, unmoving, not even smirking. But inside, he was thinking: He's got no strategy. No rhythm. He thinks throwing power at a problem fixes it. He doesn't train, he doesn't connect. He doesn't deserve Charmander.
And then someone from the crowd shouted: "RELEASE CHARMANDER!"
Green.
She had waited for the exact moment Damien's ego was teetering—when he needed to reassert control, needed something familiar to cling to. And she offered it like bait on a hook.
The crowd seized on it. The chant spread like wildfire. "Charmander! Charmander!"
Damien blinked, caught in the momentum of a scene he no longer directed.
All according to plan.
"Go!" he shouted, tossing it out without thinking.
Charmander landed with a light tap on the field. He blinked at the arena, then at the crowd, then at Pikachu.
"Pika," the electric mouse said, beckoning with a smug flick of his paw.
The referee gave the signal, but Damien didn't issue a command.
He was too focused on sulking. But Charmander? He didn't wait. With determination in his eyes, the little lizard opened his mouth and fired a thick stream of green energy—Dragon Breath.
Pikachu turned, glanced at Austin who nodded. Do it.
The breath slammed into Pikachu with a powerful whump, sending him flying backwards, sparks trailing from his cheeks.
"Pikachu!" Austin shouted as he caught the electric-type in his arms. His voice carried just enough panic to make the performance real. He smirked as he dusted Pikachu off.
"Whew… didn't expect that. Looks like Electabuzz wore you out just enough to let Charmander finish you off…"
The crowd erupted, their cheers booming like a tidal wave crashing through the gym.
"Charmander! Charmander!" they cried, swept up in the sudden underdog story playing out before them. In their eyes, the little lizard had done the impossible—taking down the unbeatable Pikachu in a single, dazzling blast. They didn't see the strategy behind it. They didn't notice the moment Austin and Pikachu threw the fight.
All they saw was heart, fire, and a comeback worth rooting for.
The little lizard blinked, stunned. He turned slowly, seeing people clapping, kids cheering, adults standing, smiling, nodding. It was all for him. He lit up, tail flame blazing, mouth curling into a wide, innocent smile.
Austin watched, his heart squeezing in a weird way. You deserve this, he thought. Even if your trainer doesn't.
He gently set Pikachu down on the bench and pulled out another Poké Ball.
"Let's keep this one going," he said aloud. "A battle of dragons, huh?" He smirked. Even if neither are real dragons. He tossed the Poké Ball. "Let's go, Horsea!"
Damien took charge the only way he knew how by barking orders louder than his own insecurities. "Fire Blast!"
Charmander flinched at the command. The little fire-type's tail flickered with uncertainty. Austin watched closely, lips pressed in a flat line.
Of course… He gave him the TM.
Damien had likely slapped the powerful move onto Charmander without care, expecting raw strength to replace actual training. Probably didn't even bother to teach him Flamethrower first. Charmander hadn't mastered the basics, and now he was expected to pull off an advanced technique like Fire Blast in front of a roaring crowd.
It was like handing a violin to someone who'd never held a bow and expecting a symphony.
Austin didn't need to say it aloud. He could see it in Charmander's eyes: the panic, the pressure, the overwhelming need to perform… to be enough. He hated this part. Hated seeing that look.
"Water Gun!" Austin commanded sharply, the words leaving his mouth before he could hesitate.
Horsea responded instantly, unleashing a precise stream of pressurized water that struck Charmander square in the chest. The type advantage hit hard, but Charmander didn't fall. He staggered, hit one knee, claws digging into the dirt, tail sizzling as steam rose in tiny hisses.
And still he stood.
Austin's brows lifted just a fraction.
Resilient.
"Fire Blast!" Damien shouted again, like the volume would make it work. Like screaming the move would magically bring it to life.
Charmander turned, trembling, mouth barely flickering with flame—he was trying.
Austin exhaled, eyes shutting with a mix of pity and cold focus. Follow the plan, he reminded himself.
"Twister."
The command was calm, calculated. And immediate.
Horsea spun, releasing a spiraling vortex of dragonic wind and water that crashed into Charmander before he could finish drawing breath. The little lizard was swept up in the force, tumbled back across the field, and landed in a heap near the edge of the arena.
Silence fell for a moment.
Austin opened his eyes, gaze falling not on the fainted Charmander, but on Damien—still standing there, red-faced, fists clenched, looking for something... someone... to blame.
But Austin wasn't watching to gloat. No, his focus was already ahead. This wasn't about defeating Charmander. It was about freeing him. And now that Damien had burned through his team, the real work could begin.
Time to get that Charmander the trainer he deserves.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Austin slipped off the stage without a glance back, vanishing into the crowd like smoke. Behind him, Daisy's voice echoed across the arena, announcing the next match. He didn't care. A faint buzz in his pocket confirmed it: Green was already in motion, intercepting Damien's entourage. All the noise. That bought him a few precious minutes. Time enough.
He found Damien sulking alone behind the staging corridor, arms crossed, jaw clenched, glaring at nothing.
"Hey, hey," Austin said, voice easy.
Damien didn't look at him. "What the hell do you want?"
There was venom in his tone, bitterness laced with humiliation. Good. That would make what came next smoother.
"I've got a proposition. Thought you might be interested."
"If you're trying to sell me one of your trash T-shirts," Damien scoffed, "save it for your twelve-year-old fanbase."
Austin's eye twitched, but his smile held. "Not that. I'm here to talk about Charmander."
That got Damien's attention. He turned, eyes narrowing. "What about it?"
"I want him. I'm offering a trade."
Damien snorted. "Right. Like I'd just hand him over. My dad didn't raise an idiot, you don't get something for nothing."
"No," Austin agreed. "He raised a monster who only takes."
That made Damien stand up straighter. "Watch it."
Austin shrugged and gestured toward the gondola station just off the gym's edge. "Let's talk somewhere quieter. We'll go to the Pokémon Center. Neutral ground."
Damien hesitated, then followed.
The gondola drifted quietly over the glittering canals, the Cerulean skyline reflected in the water below. The only sound was the soft dip of Austin's paddle slicing through the water. Damien sat opposite him, foot tapping, arms still crossed.
Austin handed him a slim black folder. "Here. Read."
"What is this?"
"Your reflection," Austin said. "Start flipping."
Damien opened the file and skimmed the first page. His eyes narrowed. Then the second page. The third. His posture shifted. The silence stretched as he read, each sheet exposing a new layer of rot and crime linking found by Detective Lyle during the private investigation. By the fourth page, Damien's hands were shaking.
"Where the hell did you get this?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?"
Damien's hand twitched toward his belt. "Do you have any idea who my father is?"
Austin's smile sharpened. "Yeah. I do. That's why I haven't hit send on this yet."
He reached into his jacket and pulled out his burner phone, letting Damien see the email draft on the screen. Multiple recipients: league officials, major news outlets, two Pokémon rights organizations, and one very prominent Saffron City journalist with a taste for scandal.
Damien went pale. "You really want to do this?" he hissed. "You think they'll touch me? My father could buy the Indigo League if he wanted to."
"Sure," Austin said, still paddling. "He could try. But the question isn't what he can do. It's what he will do when his company stock tanks thirty percent after the headlines hit. When protestors are camped outside your house. When sponsors start pulling out and half of Kanto's media is screaming for Charmander's release. You think your dad's going to go to war for his disappointing, talentless son?"
Damien's face twisted. "Don't push me," he said. "I swear, if you..."
Austin dropped the paddle. The boat swayed slightly as he leaned forward, eyes suddenly cold. "No," he said quietly. "You don't push. You don't bluff. You don't threaten. You sit there and listen, because I'm the only reason you're not in a jail cell tonight."
For a second, the air went heavy.
Damien looked away. "…What do you want?"
"The trade still stands," Austin said, straightening. "You give me Charmander, and you get the file."
Damien didn't hesitate this time. "Fine. Deal."
"Not done yet." Austin reached into his bag and tossed him a folded piece of paper.
Damien caught it. "What's this?"
"A letter," Austin said. "From you. To Charmander. You're going to read it before the hand-off. Loud enough for him to hear it. Convincing. Sincere. You're going to fake the best performance of your life. Cry, if you can."
Damien opened the letter and scanned it. His brow furrowed. "This is pathetic. I'd never say half this crap."
"You're going to say all of it. Because it's not about you. It's about him. You're going to give him closure. A goodbye he can believe in. One that lets him walk away from you with dignity. Something you've never once given him."
Damien crumpled the paper slightly in his fist. "Why? Why go this far? Why risk all this for one dumb Pokémon?"
Austin studied him, quiet for a beat.
Then, without a trace of humor, he said, "Because he still tries."
Damien blinked.
"That little fire-lizard," Austin continued, voice low and steady, "stood up after a type-advantage hit. Tried to obey a move he wasn't ready for. Smiled when people finally saw him. He gave everything for a trainer who never earned it. And if that doesn't matter to you, then you've already lost something you'll never get back."
He leaned forward again, face-to-face.
"And because some of us remember what it's like to be small. To be overlooked. To be loyal to someone who didn't deserve it."
Damien said nothing. His knuckles were white.
Austin sat back, picking up the paddle again. "We'll be at the Center in ten. Memorize the letter. You screw this up, the file goes public."
"…This isn't over," Damien muttered.
Austin's paddle didn't pause. "Keep telling yourself that."
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
The Pokémon Center glowed with clinical calm... pale light, polished tile, nurses moving with soft, practiced efficiency. It was a place of healing, of safety. And right now, it was about to become the site of a liberation.
Austin handed Pikachu over to a nurse with a quiet nod. The mouse gave a tired but trusting Pika before being wheeled off for treatment.
Austin didn't watch him go. He turned to Damien, who looked as if he were walking to his own execution. They stepped into the Support Office, a sterile side-room lined with consoles and identity verifiers.
"I'm here to request a transfer of ownership," Austin said flatly.
The attendant blinked, recognizing both trainers immediately. "Ah, of course. Please provide both your IDs."
Austin scanned his card.
Damien hesitated.
Austin rolled his eyes and handed over a notepad. "Here. Write my Trainer ID down before you forget it. I know numbers are hard for rich boys who use daddy's wallet instead of their brain."
Damien's jaw clenched. His hand shook slightly as he wrote the digits down. But he didn't say a word.
He couldn't. Not anymore.
The process took moments. Charmander's name blinked across the terminal screen as his registration swapped from Damien Calloway to Ash Ketchum. With that final beep, it was done. And now came the hard part.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Austin led Damien down a quiet hallway, away from the Center's crowds and healing chambers to a gardened corner just outside the emergency bay. Quiet. Private.
"Now," Austin said, voice low. "Do your part."
Damien sneered but said nothing. He pulled out the Poké Ball and released Charmander.
The small flame-tailed Pokémon emerged with a soft burst of light... and immediately stared down at the ground.
No celebration. No cheer. Just quiet shame. As if he already knew what was coming.
"Look at him," Damien muttered, tone sharp with disgust. "Still moping. You'd think he'd finally evolved into something useful."
There was a crack, not of violence, but of a boot slamming down onto the tile.
"Try again!"
Damien froze, the paper half-unfolded in his hands.
"You want him to believe you?" Austin continued, voice low. "Then say it like you mean it. From memory. Or the deal's off."
Damien stared at him, teeth clenched, face pale, sweat just beginning to gather at his temples. His fingers twitched, crumpling the page. But he didn't argue.
Austin didn't need to say what they both already knew: if this wasn't convincing, it would all come crashing down. So Damien tucked the letter away, stood tall, and looked at Charmander.
Damien did something unthinkable. He dropped to one knee.
His voice was steady. Too steady. Like he was reading lines from a script buried in his skull. But each word was wrapped in enough emotion... controlled tremble, faltering breath... that for Charmander, it was impossible to tell the difference.
"Charmander… I was cruel to you. I gave you orders you weren't ready for. Blamed you for things you didn't understand. I made you feel like you were never enough. Like you were the problem."
Charmander's head tilted, eyes shimmering.
"But you always tried. No matter what. Even when I yelled, even when I called you weak… you gave everything. You kept believing in me, even when I didn't deserve it."
Damien took a breath, and for a moment, his hands trembled not from acting.
"You deserve better. You are better. You've got a fire in you stronger than any TM, stronger than anything I ever gave you. You could become a Charizard who soars past the clouds. I believe that now."
Austin watched him in still silence.
"But I'm not the trainer who'll help you do it."
Charmander's eyes widened.
Damien leaned forward, one hand hovering above the ground, his voice softening just enough to hurt.
"I'm not good enough for you."
Charmander shook his head.
"So… I want to ask you something."
Damien swallowed hard.
"Can you promise me one thing?"
Charmander nodded.
"Will you become his Pokémon?"
There was silence.
Then the little lizard surged forward into Damien's arms, clinging like he was still hoping this was all a bad dream.
"Char… char…"
Damien's arms stiffened, but he didn't push him away.
"You promised," he said finally, voice soft.
Charmander froze.
Austin crouched nearby, holding out a hand. Calm. Open. Patient. "I know this is hard," he said gently. "But I promise… I'll help you grow. One day, you'll look down from the clouds and know you made the right choice."
Charmander looked at Damien. Torn.
"GO TO HIM!"
Charmander flinched. His eyes trembled. Slowly, painfully, he let go.
He walked one step at a time toward Austin's outstretched hand. Then he placed his claw in the boy's palm.
Austin smiled soft, but certain. "Nice to meet you, Charmander," he said. "I'm going to be your new trainer."
Charmander turned back, one last time.
Damien was already walking away.
"Char!" he cried out, one last call. One last plea for recognition.
But Damien never looked back.
The fire-lizard shivered and Austin caught him in a quiet hug.
"Cry all you want," Austin murmured. "You've earned it. And it just means you're strong enough to feel it."
Charmander broke quietly at first, then all at once, sobs muffled against Austin's chest as the trainer just held him and let it happen.
A few minutes later, Charmander wiped his eyes with the back of his claw.
Austin crouched beside him, voice soft. "We'll take it slow, okay? You've been through a lot. This is a big change for both of us."
Charmander nodded, sniffling. "We'll figure it out. One day at a time."
Austin glanced down at the strange discoloration on Charmander's back... His brow furrowed. "Nurse Joy should take a look at that," he murmured, quietly returning Charmander to his Poké Ball.
But as he turned toward the hallway, he froze.
Professor Oak was standing there, arms crossed, expression unreadable but his eyes were sharp, fixed on Austin like he already knew something. The look said one thing: I want answers.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Meanwhile, Damien stormed down the Pokémon Center hallway, thumb jabbing at the buttons on his clunky silver Pokétch, the outdated model barely keeping up with his fury.
Ring… Ring… Click.
"Oi, bitch," he snapped. "Get my father on the line right now..."
"Hmm," a low, gravel-like voice replied, sharp and cold as steel. "So that's how you speak to my secretary?"
Damien froze. His stomach twisted.
"F-Father," he stammered, "I thought... I didn't mean to..."
"Angry?" the voice roared, so loud Damien winced, pulling the device away from his ear. "You're angry? You ruined your own name and mine! I've had investors breathing down my neck for the last hour! You've turned our company into a liability!"
"I… I don't understand. What are you talking about?"
"Oh, excellent," his father hissed. "Not only a failure, you're an ignorant one. Turn on any channel. You're famous now. Your crimes are all on national television."
Damien went rigid.
"F-Father, I know who..."
"Shut up."
The words hit like a slap.
"I'm sending someone to collect you. You're done here. Don't speak. Don't move. Don't think." The call ended with a dead click. Damien stood there, shaking, staring at the Pokétch like it had betrayed him. Then the rage hit. Hot. Burning.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Austin was speaking with Professor Oak in the Center lobby, hands casually tucked into his jacket.
"You son of a bitch!" Damien roared, storming in. "You set me up!"
Austin turned calmly, not surprised. "Oh look," he said dryly, "the garbage crawled back."
Damien lunged, fist raised in a wild, uncoordinated punch.
"Predictable," Austin muttered.
He sidestepped effortlessly and as Damien stumbled past, off-balance.
CRACK!
Austin's elbow slammed into the boy's nose with clean, brutal precision. Blood sprayed. Damien collapsed to the floor, clutching his face with a strangled cry. "Pro tip," Austin said, crouching next to him. "If you're gonna sucker punch someone, don't announce it first like you're in a bad action movie."
Before Damien could retort, a figure stepped between them.
"Enough," said Professor Oak.
"Piss off, old man!" Damien spat, wiping blood on his sleeve.
Big mistake.
Without warning, the aged professor pivoted, hooking Damien's waist and with shocking strength suplexed him into the polished tile. The impact made several nurses jump. Damien's head bounced with a dull thud and his body went limp.
Austin blinked. "Holy sh... Professor, how?"
Oak straightened with a casual grunt, dusting off his lab coat. "Oh, I used to wrestle back in the day," he said with a small smile. "Before I took up science."
Austin looked down at Damien, unconscious, arms sprawled awkwardly. "Well, what happens to him now?"
Oak's smile faded. The humor left his face, replaced by something heavier.
"For starters," Professor Oak said, "the League will have to respond to the media outcry. Damien's trainer license will be suspended pending a full investigation and any associates who helped cover up his actions will face the same."
Austin listened intently.
"His Pokémon will be taken into foster care," Oak continued, "unless they're linked directly to any criminal activity. If they are… they'll be quarantined for further examination or, in severe cases, placed in rehabilitation facilities." He exhaled through his nose, his tone sharp now. "But honestly? That's a slap on the wrist if you ask me. I'm filing a formal complaint with the Department of Trainer Welfare. They'll be coordinating with Kanto's Special Investigations Bureau. And they don't play games."
Austin raised a brow. "And what about his rich dad?"
"Mr. Calloway will be investigated thoroughly. If I had to guess," Oak added with disgust, "he'll disown Damien publicly. Paint him as a rogue son, a bad apple. Then pull some PR stunt... donate to a few charities, issue a press statement about abuse prevention. All a smokescreen to protect the brand."
"So they're basically done?"
"Depends on what you mean by done."
Austin gave a dry, tired chuckle. "I mean… I don't have to deal with them anymore. Defeated the villain, roll credits. Hurrah." His tone was half-joking, half-hopeful, and fully aware it was wishful thinking.
Oak's expression softened slightly, then turned pragmatic. "You don't have to worry about Damien, no. Mr. Calloway isn't stupid enough to let his son cause more damage not while the spotlight's burning a hole through his reputation. He'll keep Damien under lock and key just to save his own skin." He paused, then snorted. "And if he tries anything himself…" Oak glanced out the window, jaw firming. "I'll handle it."
Austin looked at him... quiet, curious.
Oak's eyes twinkled, just faintly. "I may not wear a cape, but I'm still the former Champion. And father to the current one. I've got more pull in Kanto than any suit with a checkbook." He leaned closer, voice low but steady. "And if that's not enough, well… I have friends in very high places. The kind that make men like Mr. Calloway think a dozen times before making a single move."
Austin let out a slow breath. Then offered a small, respectful nod. "…Thanks for the help."
"Don't thank me, boy," he said. "Thank yourself. You didn't just win a battle. You changed a life."
Austin glanced at the Poké Ball at his side, where Charmander now rested. His fingers brushed against it, gently.
"…Yeah," he murmured. "Let's hope I don't screw it up."
Oak placed a hand on his shoulder. "You won't," he said with quiet certainty.
Austin took a deep breath, wanting to change the topic. "Actually, Professor… can I ask you something?"
Oak raised a brow. "Go ahead."
"Why isn't Charizard a dragon-type?" Austin asked, his face scrunched in mock confusion. "You'd think wings, fire-breath, the whole deal, he'd qualify. But no. Flying type."
Oak laughed. "Ah, that debate. Believe me, it's caused more than a few arguments at interregional conferences." He motioned for Austin to walk with him. "There was a report out of Johto a few years back..."
"Oh no," Austin muttered, grinning. "A research paper. We're gonna be here a while."
"Hush now," Oak said, smirking. "You brought this upon yourself."