On Polania Island's beach the Delinquents and Serena wore identical looks of bewilderment; none of them had seen clearly what had just happened.
Serena's Fennekin had been on the verge of defeat, so how had the second delinquent's Fearow been one-shot instead?
Who did that?! Who!!
"Picking on a stranded Pokémon and then ganging up on a girl—don't you have an ounce of honor?" A bright voice rang out, and the next instant a broad-shouldered silhouette stepped between Serena and danger.
Serena hadn't even seen where he came from; in the blink of an eye he was simply there.
From his words he was clearly on her side—and, for some reason, the sight of that back felt achingly familiar.
Though she hadn't seen his face, her senses insisted she'd never met this person, yet a woman's deepest intuition told her she knew him—knew him so profoundly it was carved into her soul.
How could those two feelings clash so sharply?
"And who are you, sticking your nose into the Delinquents' business? We're out to conquer the Orange League by beating the Southern Cross!" the lead delinquent snarled.
"Conquer the Orange League? With that lineup? I'm not looking down on you—you'd be lucky to survive a single move from the Southern Cross." Ash didn't spare their pride; people without morals, conscience, or manners deserved in courtesy.
Besides, he spoke the plain truth. The Orange League was far weaker than the major regions, little more than an adjunct of Johto and Kanto; even Alola's League packed more punch.
There was no Elite Four here—only the four Southern Cross Trainers, the rough equivalent of Gym Leaders elsewhere.
Beat them and you earned the right to challenge the League's Head Trainer, Drake. Defeat Drake and the Orange League was yours.
This generation's Head Trainer was said to be the strongest ever, undefeated since taking the post.
Ash wouldn't have minded testing that reputation, but he was here on more urgent business and had no team for League challenges.
In short, the Southern Cross matched Gym Leaders in strength yet held Elite-level status, while the Head Trainer occupied the Champion's slot.
Rank alone ensured respect, whatever the power gap.
And neither rank nor strength was something these three scrubs could touch. Sure, that Hitmonchan punching through Ember looked flashy, but Fennekin was barely peak Novice.
The Hitmonchan, showy though it seemed, was at Advanced Level—a final-boss nightmare for a beginning Trainer.
Apart from it, the other two Pokémon sat at Advanced Novice, their six-dimensional stats a tragedy.
High level meant plenty of battles; trash stats meant zero cultivation—basically left to roam and level up through random scraps.
Levels gained that way were worthless; a well-raised Ordinary level Pokémon could thrash all three.
Give the rookie girl half a month more training and she'd flatten them without Ash's help.
"You brat, dare to mock us! Zitai, crush him!" the lead delinquent barked at the last companion.
Fearow had already been knocked out of the fight by that earlier Quick Attack, leaving Hitmonchan and Beedrill on the field.
Two-on-one—advantage theirs!
"Beedrill, Twinneedle!"
"Bee-ee!" Beedrill shrieked, speeding at Pikachu while Hitmonchan flanked from the other side, both closing in for a pincer.
"Pikachu, Iron Tail!"
"Pika-chu-pika!" Metal light flared along Pikachu's tail. It sprang off the sand, vanishing in a blur of electricity.
Beedrill and Hitmonchan lost their target, twisting left and right but catching only the whirlwind Pikachu's speed left in its wake.
Ridiculous! How could a yellow rodent move like that?
In the next heartbeat Pikachu reappeared between them; before either could turn, Iron Tail smashed them both and sent them flying.
The two Pokémon crashed into their Trainers, bowling the Delinquents across the sand.
"Told you. With skills like that you'd better train a few more years before taking on the Southern Cross—and train your character first. People who treat Pokémon like you do don't deserve to be Trainers."
Strength alone doesn't make a Trainer; integrity does.
Guys who abuse their Pokémon are no better than Team Rockets—yet even the Team Rocket Trio never harmed Pokémon. James in particular had a straight heart; Ash still wondered how he'd ended up with the Rockets.
These three were trash even lower than that.
"Y-you brat… j-just wait!" The leader crawled from beneath Hitmonchan, hurled every Poké Ball he owned, and the other two, snapping out of shock, followed suit.
Two-on-one failed? Then fifteen-on-one!
"Be careful—maybe we should grab Lapras and go!" Serena wanted to call his name, only to realize she still didn't know it. This boy felt so familiar, yet the name eluded her.
Strange—Serena prided herself on her memory; how could someone feel so known yet remain nameless?
"Relax. Fifteen-on-one is nothing—Pikachu won't lose. Let's go, Pikachu!"
"Pika-pi!!"
Three minutes later, the whole beach was littered with bodies. The three Delinquents stared blankly at the scene, long trails of snot running down their faces, unable to come back to their senses for a long time.
"How—how is this possible—all our Pokémon were taken down—and by just one Pikachu, how could this happen!!!"
Behind Ash, Serena's beautiful eyes were wide with shock. Her cute, delicate face was full of bewilderment, and that dazed, silly expression added even more charm to her already exquisite features.
She hadn't imagined that Pikachu could be that powerful, almost like—almost like—wai—
Could it be that Pikachu, and that familiar back in front of her, really were—
"The facts speak for themselves. Hurry and take your Pokémon to get treated, and don't do this kind of thing again." Ash lifted his chin and warned the three Delinquents once more.
"Pika Pika!" Pikachu crossed its arms beside Ash and nodded in agreement.
"We'll remember you—just wait, we'll come back for revenge!" The leading Delinquent recalled all his Pokémon, then fled in disgrace with his two sidekicks.
Because it was early morning and the place was rather remote, no one else came by despite the huge battle that had just taken place.
After seeing the Delinquents run off, Ash hurried over to Lapras's side, extending the Viridian Power into its body.
"How is she?" Serena and Misty followed Ash to Lapras; the former asked with worry.
"Relax, nothing serious—just exhaustion plus some scrapes and minor internal injuries. Those weren't caused by those Delinquents; they look like damage from natural forces." Ash probed briefly and grasped Lapras's condition completely.
The injuries on this Lapras weren't from the Delinquents; without sending out Pokémon, they didn't have the skill.
Most likely the wounds came from a storm while Lapras was traveling across the sea.
Besides storm damage, though, Ash also detected traces of gunpowder on Lapras—clearly human-inflicted.
Of course, it couldn't have been the Delinquents; where would they get gunpowder?
Poachers, then—" Ash identified the culprit in his mind while continuing to heal Lapras with Viridian Power.
[Species: Lapras]
[Gender: Female]
[Type: Water, Ice]
[Level: Advanced Novice]
[Ability: Water Absorb]
[Moves: Water Gun, Ice Beam, Hydro Pump, Water Pulse, Rain Dance, Safeguard—]
[six-dimensional stats: attack C(B) special attack C(S) defense B(A) special defense B(A) hp A(A) speed C(A)]
Lapras's stats appeared in Ash's mind; it was a Pokémon with excellent potential—one stat even reached S-rank.
Although Ash had many Pokémon with S-rank potential, a single S-rank stat was literally one in ten thousand worldwide.
Besides Ash, who else could run into S-rank Pokémon like this? Only he had such ridiculous luck.
To think a random injured Lapras he found on the roadside had S-rank potential—
Had those Delinquents tried to treat her instead of bullying and hurting her, Lapras might have chosen to go with them.
With a Pokémon like that, even their lousy training style could make it incredibly strong!
That's what they call good being rewarded.
Instead, their actions brought evil consequences: they lost the chance at an outstanding Lapras and got taught a lesson by Ash.
"Um—shouldn't we take Lapras to a Pokémon Center?" Serena asked shyly.
"Don't worry, she's fine—look." Ash turned and smiled at Serena, lifting his hand from Lapras's head.
Only then did Serena notice that the wounds on Lapras—on its head and body—had quietly healed.
And it seemed all thanks to the boy in front of her.
When he turned, Serena saw his face clearly: an utterly ordinary-looking boy, nothing like the person she'd imagined.
Yet—that familiar back, that Pikachu, and that same bright smile from back then made Serena certain she wasn't wrong.
"You're Ash, right?"
Ash: !!
Ash spun around, stunned, and at the same time sent a message via Telepathy: Mewtwo, did your disguise fail?
"Impossible; my Psychic is active. That girl shouldn't be able to see through it." Mewtwo sounded equally shocked; it didn't know why its camouflage had been broken.
Not even Champion-level Pokémon should pierce its power.
"How do you know me?" Ash simply had Mewtwo drop the Psychic veil, revealing his true face as he asked Serena outright.
Beside them, Misty was intrigued—and an inexplicable sense of crisis rose in her heart, coming out of nowhere from this girl—what was going on?
"Is it really you, Ash? You—don't remember me?"
Ash: ??
Misty:!!
Misty stared at Ash as if asking where he'd left a romantic debt.
Ash himself was baffled; when had he met this girl? Frankly, someone this pretty—if he'd seen her before, he couldn't have forgotten.
People are memorable either for beauty or ugliness, and she was definitely the former; if they'd met, he wouldn't forget—wait, that face, that hair.
"You're—that girl from the summer camp?" Ash asked uncertainly.
That year he was only ten, the year he saved a girl at summer camp—she'd had the same pale-blue eyes, the same flaxen hair—