"It's fine. Just be more careful next time," Ash said calmly. "Walking alone in the forest at your age isn't wise. At least bring someone with you."
Sabrina floated silently beside him, her Psychic power lifting her a few inches above the ground.
The old man's eyes flickered with interest. "Oh? A Psychic. That's rare in Johto."
Psychic-type Trainers were far less common here compared to Kanto. Someone like Sabrina naturally stood out.
"I've lived in this forest for decades," the old man continued. "I know it like the back of my hand. To thank you for earlier, come to my home. Let me offer you some hospitality."
Without waiting for a reply, he turned and began walking deeper into the woods.
Ash narrowed his eyes slightly but followed. Sabrina drifted along behind him.
Soon, a massive wooden structure came into view.
Sabrina glanced at it, unimpressed. "Another one. Why do so many people in Johto build houses deep in forests?"
The old man chuckled.
"Land in the forest is cheap. In the city? Astronomical. Living in Ecruteak or Goldenrod would cost a fortune in Pokédollars. Out here, it's peaceful—and affordable. At my age, city life would exhaust me."
Ash's expression darkened faintly.
So even Johto's housing market had become inflated.
No wonder so many talented Trainers were dissatisfied with the Johto League's management.
If the League couldn't even stabilize its region's development, how could it expect loyalty?
A faint cold light flashed in Ash's eyes.
"Hey! Hah! Haaah!"
As they entered the compound, loud shouts echoed from within.
Inside the dojo, a group of students were practicing synchronized punches and kicks.
Ash stopped.
"…Is this supposed to be combat training?"
He wasn't mocking—just confused.
The movements looked flashy. Wide stances. Exaggerated spins. Dramatic strikes.
But the footwork was unstable. The center of gravity was off. Power dispersion was inefficient.
It looked impressive.
But in real combat?
Useless.
"It's my granddaughter's idea," the old man said with a snort. "Some nonsense about 'fighting as art.' Says it must be powerful and beautiful."
Ash watched silently.
Long-term, this kind of training would stagnate progress. It might impress spectators—but it wouldn't win real battles.
Sabrina spoke quietly. "You used to be a Gym Leader."
The old man nodded.
"Yes. I was once the Fighting-type Gym Leader of Johto. I've retired now. The official Gym is currently in Cianwood City."
Ash's eyes flickered in understanding.
"So you're training your granddaughter to inherit the Fighting Gym."
"That was the plan," the old man sighed. "But she won't listen. She insists on mixing performance into combat. It infuriates me."
Ash studied him more closely.
Peak King-level strength.
Even just now, when Tauros had charged, the old man hadn't truly panicked. If Ash hadn't intervened, he likely could have handled it himself.
So that had been a test.
Interesting.
Ahead of them stood a pink-haired girl leading the group. Her movements were sharp—but theatrical.
Beside her stood a Pokémon with blue and brown coloring, sharp crest-like protrusions on its head and bladed forearms.
Sabrina quietly took out her Pokédex and aimed it.
"Hitmontop," she read.
"Fighting-type Pokémon. Spins like a top to unleash rapid rotational attacks. Evolves from Tyrogue."
Ash nodded.
Hitmontop—one of Tyrogue's evolutionary branches, alongside Hitmonlee and Hitmonchan. Balanced stats. Excellent rotational momentum in close combat.
A good Pokémon.
But the way it was being trained now?
Ash's gaze sharpened.
Even a strong Pokémon could be wasted under flawed philosophy.
And judging from the old man's expression…
A clash was inevitable.
"Ding~!"
The Pokédex let out a crisp electronic chime.
"Hitmontop, the Handstand Pokémon. Pure Fighting-type. It spins rapidly to deliver dance-like kicking attacks, striking opponents with surprising power and precision."
"Dance-like kicking skills?" Sabrina glanced at the screen. "That sounds impressive."
Ash gave a faint scoff.
"Dance? Don't joke."
His eyes shifted to the Hitmontop standing proudly beside the pink-haired girl.
"Fighting-type Pokémon rely primarily on physical attack power, footwork, balance, and explosive force. Efficiency matters. Lethality matters. No one wins battles because their stance looks pretty."
He crossed his arms.
"If we're talking about beauty, we might as well call it ballet."
The girl's expression darkened instantly.
The so-called "dance-like" description didn't mean Hitmontop lacked strength—it referred to the fluidity of its spinning attacks. But under her current training philosophy, the focus was clearly on appearance over impact.
Ash could tell at a glance.
Elite-level strength at best.
But against a truly battle-hardened Elite Pokémon? It would struggle.
"You're absolutely right," the old man said with a sharp nod. "That's exactly why I invited you here."
The girl turned sharply. "Grandpa!"
She stepped forward, Hitmontop moving in sync beside her.
"Who are they?" she demanded, glaring at Ash. She had clearly heard his earlier comment.
Ash's indifferent gaze didn't soften.
That only fueled her irritation further.
The old man smiled faintly, though his tone carried deliberate provocation.
"This young man is an exceptional Trainer. Much stronger than you."
The girl's eyes widened slightly.
The old man wasn't exaggerating blindly. From the moment Ash had stepped in front of that raging Tauros, the difference had been obvious.
Not just physical strength.
Control. Aura flow. Killing intent suppressed beneath calm composure.
Even as a former Fighting-type Gym Leader, he could sense it.
Ash was on another level.
The girl clenched her fists.
"Stronger than me? Grandpa, you're joking."
Ash finally spoke.
"Strength isn't measured by how good you look while attacking."
He stepped forward slightly, his Aura subtly radiating outward—not enough to intimidate, but enough to make the air heavier.
"If you treat battle like a stage performance, you'll eventually meet an opponent who won't care about your 'art.'"
Hitmontop instinctively shifted its stance.
It could feel it.
This human was dangerous.
The old man's eyes gleamed.
Good.
This was exactly the kind of pressure his granddaughter needed.
And Ash, he was curious.
If this girl truly wanted to inherit a Fighting Gym, then sooner or later, she would have to learn what real combat meant.
(End of Chapter)
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