Ash looked at Misty's dazed expression.
A mix of helplessness and "yep, called it" crossed his face.
He lowered his voice.
"Take my advice, friend."
"Our dreams have to reach further. We need to know who's waiting for us at the very end."
"Their ace Pokémon? Those are one-in-ten-thousand extremes right from the start."
"Body, potential, the upper limit of how much energy they can handle—they're born with their feet in the clouds."
"And on top of that, their Trainers and Pokémon fill out every bit of that potential to the absolute limit… that's a Champion."
"And you're asking me, 'Who's Leon?'"
Ash stood, patted some mud off his pants, and glanced at the "ordinary" Goldeen in Misty's bucket. He shook his head slightly, and the last thing he said was so light it might've been a breeze—
but it stuck in Misty's ears like a needle:
"Then I really don't know what to say. At least… read the world news sometimes, okay?"
[Honestly, total frog-in-a-well energy. (quiet grumbling)]
Unlike Ash, who could pull up a Pokémon's exact stats with his system…
Everyone else had to rely on infrastructure if they wanted "perfect individuals."
Places like Professor Oak's research facility.
Top-tier breeding centers run by professional breeders.
Without a system to show raw numbers, the only way was to stack quantity until you got quality.
With enough breeding stock and selective pairing, high-grade individuals would appear eventually.
Most high-level Trainers had at least three full "teams" of Pokémon.
The later a Pokémon joined their rotation, the better its innate potential tended to be.
"You…!"Misty's cheeks flushed crimson, half from embarrassment, half from the sheer overload of information.
Even though Ash had muttered that last part, she'd still heard it.
Frog in a well?
She was a Cerulean City Gym trainer (reserve, sure, but still), raised around Water-types from childhood—and this rookie was calling her a frog in a well?
She wanted to argue.
To yell that he was just talking nonsense and bragging.
But she couldn't stop replaying the impossible speed of Pikachu's Quick Attack, Pidgey's precisely controlled Hurricane, that gold Magikarp that looked like it was only good for jumping high and being shiny… and that blazing golden figure in the storm, seared into her soul.
Could it be… that the battles at the very top really are, like he said, another dimension entirely?
That the "bonds and feelings" I pride myself on are just the basic foundation against monsters like that?
The truth was: yes.
Champions loved to say they won because of their bonds.
But that line only worked in one direction.
If you tried to reverse it—
Did that mean every loser had weaker bonds than a Champion?
Obviously not.
There were definitely people who loved their Pokémon just as deeply but still lost.
Love couldn't be used as a measuring stick.
Losing didn't mean you didn't care enough.
"…Misty. Trust me on this one," Ash said quietly, tugging the brim of his cap down. "Trust the me who's walking beside you."
"Trust the me… who believes in you."
He pulled out his Pokédex.
This would be his strongest piece of supporting evidence.
A Pokédex was something only a regional Professor had the authority to issue.
Once Ash flipped it open, a recording played: Professor Oak's voice, alongside Ash's profile photo.
"This is a Pokédex I'm giving to Ash, with the hope that he'll grow into a true Pokémon Trainer.
Reminder: If the Pokédex is lost or stolen, it will not be reissued. Please keep it safe.
—Professor Oak, Pallet Town."
This thing was essentially a recommendation letter with a top-tier name stamped on it, backed by League regulations.
Anyone on the straight-and-narrow side of the League had to give Professor Oak a little respect.
As for Team Rocket and the other shady types… they were enemies anyway. Why would they care?
"Pika?"Pikachu rubbed against Ash's leg, then glanced at the stunned Misty, head tilted.
Ash left Misty to wrestle with her worldview and turned back to the golden Magikarp collapsed in the muddy puddle, tossing it a shimmering blue Pokéblock.
He'd swiped that from Professor Oak's lab when leaving Pallet Town.
He didn't have many—
not enough to casually feed Pikachu and Pidgey, anyway.
Those two already had plenty of good food. With or without Pokéblocks wouldn't make a night-and-day difference.
But Magikarp started from rock bottom. If he wanted to train it hard, its nutrition couldn't lag behind.
Now that he thought about it, the cost before it evolved into Gyarados was going to be… substantial.
"Nice work," Ash said, his voice returning to its usual warmth.
"Leaping the Dragon Gate."
"As the saying goes—'A golden scale is not meant for a shallow pond; when the storm comes, it becomes a dragon.'"
"When that day comes, you'll become a golden dragon."
"You'll be crowned as a king."
Ash kept pouring motivational soup into Magikarp.
…Though, if he remembered right, shiny Magikarp actually evolved into red Gyarados, not gold.
If it were only about looks—
if this weren't a full 6V perfect individual—
Ash absolutely would've kept it as a pet aquarium fish.
But it wasn't just a shiny. It was a shiny 6IV.
Uh… dear System bro?
Any chance you could cough up a bonus that lets it stay gold after evolving?
Being strong is temporary.
Being stylish is forever.
Ash bent down and ran his fingers across the cool, slippery golden scales, as if he could feel that full 31-point potential pulsing faintly beneath the surface.
Magikarp was really trying its best.
Most Pokémon in this world were straightforward at heart.
Magikarp could feel Ash's expectations for it, so it pushed itself harder to respond.
Why? It couldn't have said.
"Your road doesn't end in this little puddle," Ash murmured, his voice soft but carrying the weight of thunder.
"Your future is the open sky and endless ocean."
"You're going to challenge the Sea King itself."
"You're going to claim the throne of the deep."
Talk was cheap.
So of course he'd make it as cool, as chuunibyou, and as over-the-top epic as possible.
Ash: Talking like this feels so good. I'm actually high on my own monologue right now.
The golden Magikarp seemed to understand. Its tail slapped the mud with a heavy splash, dirty water flying everywhere. In its normally blank fish eyes, a faint but stubborn light flickered.
In truth, it hadn't understood a word.
But it could feel Ash's blazing resolve.
To shatter the sky itself.
Let's gooooo!
The forest breeze drifted through, carrying the damp scent of post-rain greenery.
Misty hugged her knees and sat where she was. The Goldeen in her bucket bubbled lazily.
She watched the golden shape struggle up through the muddy water for yet another jump, then looked at Ash's side profile—calm, but with something like a storm brewing under the surface.
For the first time, she truly felt that the Pokémon world she thought she knew… was cracking open in front of her, and through that crack lay heights she'd never imagined.
And the light pouring through that gap stung her eyes.
Stepping out of the League's carefully woven fairy tale.
Seeing the reality behind the fairy tale.
And meeting the people who held that fairy tale up.
The utopia—and the stories behind the utopia.
"Seriously…"
"I'm actually getting lectured by someone like this."
"I'm actually finding him… kind of dazzling."
"I'm actually looking forward to his future."
"I really am lame, huh…"
"Is that why they don't approve of me?"
Misty pulled out a Poké Ball.
As a direct heir to a Gym, of course she'd been given a trump card when she left home—
the world wasn't exactly safe.
But it wasn't one she'd raised herself, so it didn't really listen to her.
If there wasn't real danger, she could forget about commanding it properly.
And she was scared of it.
Which… wasn't really surprising.
Misty was only ten, too.
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