A sharp whooshing sound sliced through the sky like a Scyther's blade.
High above, a majestic Salamence soared through the clouds, its crimson wings cutting through the morning air. Riding astride the powerful Dragon-type was a man in his 60s—though anyone watching would guess he was in his early 40s at most. His physique was solid and well-built, the result of years of harsh training and active duty. Weathered scars crisscrossed his cheekbones, and a rough beard framed a face that held both warmth and commanding intensity. His sharp, hawk-like eyes scanned the land below.
He patted Salamence's armored neck. "We've arrived, partner. Take us down."
With a rumble of acknowledgement, Salamence tilted its wings and descended, gliding down toward a quaint garden tucked behind a homely two-story house.
The moment Salamence's claws touched down, the silence was shattered.
"GRANDPA!" A blur of excitement launched itself at him like a Mini-Rocket.
The old man barely had time to brace himself before the young projectile—Michael—crashed into his chest, arms wrapping around him in a tight hug.
A rare, soft smile broke across the man's face. He ruffled the boy's hair affectionately and scooped him up with ease, settling him on his broad shoulder.
"I missed you too, little Piplup," he chuckled, his gravelly voice laced with fondness. "So, tell me—are you ready to see what kind of Pokémon Grandpa brought for you?"
Michael threw his hand into the air. "I'm ready!"
"Good," the man said, pinching his grandson's nose teasingly. "But here's the catch—I've actually got two surprises for you today."
Michael gasped. "Two? Am I getting two Pokémon?! Wait—don't tell me, or it won't be a surprise!"
The old man laughed heartily. "That's the spirit! You'll have to wait until this afternoon for the second surprise. But for now, let's head inside and meet your first partner."
"Yesss!" Michael whooped, leaping off his grandpa's shoulder and dashing toward the house.
The older man turned his attention to the teen waiting near the edge of the garden. "Asher! How was your military training, boy?"
Asher saluted with a grin. "Went great, Gramps! The instructors nearly fainted when they found out I was already an Elite-tier Trainer."
"Hah!" the old man barked a proud laugh. "Back in my day, the military was the top power in the world. Pokémon were still being integrated into the ranks. I clawed my way up from a greenhorn captain to a general—with nothing but Salamence, Flygon, and a bag full of Poké Balls. Glad to see you're carrying the torch."
As the trio reached the front steps, Victor and Janice were waiting with drinks in hand.
"Janice," the older man said, shifting gears into a more serious tone. "How's your research coming along?"
She sighed, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "Still stuck. The recipe's missing something critical—probably the ratio of Berries to the nutrient base. Our trials keep hitting a wall. I'm hoping to make more progress before the next Breeder Exchange Convention."
The older man nodded, recognizing the weight behind her words. She was trying to recreate a set of ancient Pokéblock formulas—type-specific enhancements salvaged from Dungeon ruins. If she succeeded, it would not only revive a lost art but also cement their family's legacy beyond just being Champion-class Trainers.
"Don't worry, kid," he said, clapping her gently on the shoulder. "Most labs are still scratching their heads over it. If you need more data from ruins, just say the word. I've still got contacts out there."
She smiled gratefully, her confidence rekindled.
"And what about you, Victor?" he asked, turning toward his son. "How much longer until your Salamence breaks into Champion tier?"
Victor grumbled. "Don't start, Dad. You had half the nation's resources to help you become the first Champion. I'm stuck trying to find some rare item to break Salamence's gene cap from Indigo to Purple."
The older man snorted. "Hmph! Maybe if you'd spent less time flirting in Trainer School and more time training, you'd have surpassed Ritchie by now."
Victor scowled. "Don't bring him up. The guy has a literal Articuno. No one knows why a Legendary would willingly give away their child to a human."
"Bah, excuses," the old man huffed. "My grandson Asher is already further ahead than any of Ritchie's spoiled brats."
Victor rolled his eyes. "Oh sure, rub it in. What are you bragging for—that just says I am a better father than you now?"
"You little," the old man said grumpily—and promptly smacked Victor on the back of the head.
Victor : "Ow! This old guy's bullying me again!"
"Enough," Janice cut in, raising an eyebrow. "Today's a big day for Michael. Let's save the macho talk and chest-thumping for after dinner, alright?"
The men muttered in agreement, and the group headed inside, with Michael bouncing excitedly from foot to foot in the hallway.