The morning came slowly to the depths of Mt. Silver, the pale light filtering through cracks in the cave ceiling in thin, fragile beams. He woke to the familiar weight of the partner Pikachu curled against his chest, its small body rising and falling with each peaceful breath. For a moment, he simply lay there, staring at the ice-covered ceiling, letting the reality of his situation wash over him once again.
He was still here. Still Red. Still alive in a world that shouldn't exist.
The Pikachu stirred, yawning widely to reveal tiny pointed teeth, its cheeks sparking with residual electricity from whatever dreams electric-types experienced. It looked up at him with those impossibly expressive brown eyes, and he felt a surge of affection that caught him off guard with its intensity. This wasn't just a Pokémon—this was his partner, his companion, the one constant in a life that had been completely rewritten.
"Pika pi!" the Pikachu chirped, hopping off his chest and stretching elaborately. Its tail twitched with eager energy, clearly ready to start the day.
He sat up slowly, running a hand through his black hair. The cave was cold—objectively, he knew that—but his body registered only a comfortable neutrality. Red's years of adaptation had transformed him into something almost superhuman, at least in terms of environmental tolerance. He wondered what other changes he might discover as time went on.
Breakfast was another meal from the stored supplies—dried fruit, protein bars, bottled water. Not gourmet by any stretch, but sufficient to fuel a day of training. The partner Pikachu ate its own meal of Pokémon food, crunching happily on pellets that had been specially formulated for electric-types.
As he ate, his mind wandered to the previous day's training session. His Pokémon were incredibly powerful—that much was obvious. But he had focused primarily on the non-legendary members of his team, the starters and the evolved forms that had been with Red since the beginning. He hadn't really tested the partner Pikachu beyond basic commands and casual observation.
That seemed like an oversight worth correcting.
He finished his meal and stood, the Pikachu immediately leaping onto his shoulder with practiced grace. Together, they made their way to the training cavern, the ice walls glittering in the dim light like a palace of frozen crystal.
The cavern was exactly as he had left it—training dummies scattered across the smoothed floor, scorch marks and ice patches testament to the previous day's intensive session. He walked to the center of the space and looked down at his partner.
"Let's see what you can do," he thought, knowing somehow that the Pikachu would understand.
The electric-type hopped down from his shoulder, its expression shifting from playful to serious in an instant. It planted its small feet firmly on the ground, its cheeks beginning to spark with building electricity. The air around it seemed to shimmer with potential energy, a visible manifestation of power that made the hair on his arms stand on end.
He pointed at one of the training dummies—a pillar of ice shaped vaguely like a Golem. The Pikachu nodded once, then unleashed a Thunderbolt.
What happened next defied everything he thought he knew about Pokémon attacks.
The lightning that erupted from the small yellow creature wasn't just powerful—it was apocalyptic. A column of pure electrical energy, blindingly bright and impossibly intense, slammed into the ice dummy with enough force to vaporize it instantly. But the attack didn't stop there. It continued forward, punching through the cavern wall behind the dummy, boring through solid rock like it was made of paper, the boom of displaced air echoing through the mountain with enough force to shake loose stalactites from the ceiling.
He stared at the destruction in stunned silence. Where the ice dummy had stood, there was now a perfectly circular tunnel extending an unknown distance into the mountain. The edges of the hole were glassed over, the rock having been melted by the sheer heat of the electrical discharge. Steam rose from the wound in the earth, mixing with the cold air to create a swirling mist.
The Pikachu turned to look at him, its expression almost sheepish. "Pika pi?" it asked, as if apologizing for making a mess.
He couldn't speak, couldn't even begin to process what he had just witnessed. That wasn't a normal Thunderbolt. That wasn't even a normal Thunder. That was something else entirely, a level of power that shouldn't have been possible for any Pikachu, no matter how well-trained.
But this wasn't a normal Pikachu. This was the partner Pikachu from Let's Go—a special variant with enhanced abilities and unique characteristics. In the games, it had access to exclusive moves that other Pikachu couldn't learn, attacks that were significantly more powerful than their standard counterparts.
He just hadn't realized how much more powerful.
He pointed at another training dummy, this one shaped like a Machamp. The Pikachu nodded and began to glow with a different kind of energy—not electricity this time, but something that looked almost like condensed light. Then it launched itself forward at impossible speed, becoming a blur of yellow and brown that slammed into the ice sculpture with devastating force.
The dummy didn't just shatter—it exploded. Fragments of ice flew in every direction, pelting the cavern walls like shrapnel from a bomb. The Pikachu landed on the other side of the destruction, sliding to a stop with casual grace, not even breathing hard.
Zippy Zap. The exclusive electric-type move that partner Pikachu could learn. In the games, it was a guaranteed critical hit with increased priority. In reality, apparently, it was a tactical nuclear strike compressed into the body of an adorable yellow rodent.
He continued testing the Pikachu's abilities, each demonstration more impressive than the last. Floaty Fall allowed it to rise into the air and crash down with enough force to crater solid stone. Splishy Splash summoned a wave of water that shouldn't have been possible for an electric-type, flooding a section of the cavern before draining away through cracks in the floor. Bouncy Bubble created orbs of water that restored the Pikachu's health while damaging opponents. Buzzy Buzz paralyzed targets with guaranteed accuracy. Sizzly Slide generated flames that left burn marks on the cave floor.
Every exclusive move. Every enhanced ability. Every broken mechanic from the Let's Go games, translated into reality with terrifying effectiveness.
By the end of the demonstration, the training cavern looked like a warzone. Ice dummies had been reduced to puddles and fragments. New tunnels extended into the mountain in multiple directions. Scorch marks and water damage covered virtually every surface. The Pikachu sat in the middle of it all, looking perfectly content and not even slightly tired.
He had known his team was powerful. He had known that being Red meant commanding some of the strongest Pokémon in existence. But he hadn't truly understood what that meant until now.
The partner Pikachu alone could probably defeat most trainers' entire teams without breaking a sweat. Combined with his legendaries, his fully evolved starters, his carefully trained collection of champions—he wasn't just strong. He was on an entirely different level, operating in a weight class that most trainers couldn't even conceptualize.
No wonder Red had retreated to Mt. Silver. No wonder he had sought isolation at the top of the world. When you were this powerful, when you had ascended so far beyond normal competition, what was left to challenge you? What was left to strive for?
The answer, he realized, was simple: yourself. The only opponent worthy of someone at Red's level was Red himself. The only challenge left was constant self-improvement, pushing past limits that had already been pushed past a hundred times before.
It was lonely. It was extreme. But he understood it now in a way he hadn't before.
The Pikachu hopped back onto his shoulder, nuzzling against his cheek with affectionate satisfaction. He reached up to scratch behind its ears, still processing what he had witnessed. This little creature was a weapon of mass destruction wrapped in the most adorable package imaginable. And it was completely, utterly devoted to him.
He left the destroyed training cavern behind, making a mental note to have one of his Pokémon repair the damage later. The cave system extended far beyond the areas he had explored so far, tunnels and chambers carved out over years of residence. Red's memories provided a general map, but there were still sections he hadn't personally visited since waking up in this body.
Something drew him deeper into the mountain, past the training area and the living quarters, into passages that grew narrower and more personal. The ice here was older, untouched by recent activity, covered in a thin layer of frost that sparkled in the dim light. The Pikachu on his shoulder grew quieter as they progressed, its usual cheerful energy subdued by something it seemed to sense but couldn't articulate.
The tunnel opened into a small chamber, barely large enough for two people to stand side by side. The ceiling was low, forcing him to duck slightly as he entered. The walls were rough and unfinished, lacking the smooth surfaces that characterized the main living areas.
And in the center of the chamber, barely visible in the filtered light, was a small pile of stones arranged with obvious care and intention.
A grave.
He approached slowly, his heart heavy with a sorrow that wasn't entirely his own. Red's memories provided context—fragmentary images and emotions that painted a picture of loss he was only now fully understanding.
There had been another Pikachu. The first Pikachu. The one that had been with Red from almost the very beginning of his journey, that had stood beside him through every trial and triumph, that had helped him become the legend he was today.
That Pikachu was dead.
The memories came flooding back, sharper and more painful than any he had experienced so far.
It had happened during the climb to Mt. Silver's summit, in those early days when Red was still establishing his presence on the mountain. A blizzard had struck without warning—even by Mt. Silver's brutal standards, it had been devastating. Visibility dropped to zero. Temperatures plummeted far below what even Red's conditioning could handle. The wind howled with enough force to knock a Snorlax off its feet.
They had taken shelter in a cave, Red and his team, waiting for the storm to pass. But the cave wasn't empty. A wild Pokémon lurked in its depths—a Tyranitar, massive and territorial and enraged by the intrusion into its domain.
The battle had been brutal. Red's Pokémon were exhausted from the climb, weakened by the cold, in no condition to face one of the most powerful non-legendary Pokémon in existence. One by one, they fell to the Tyranitar's devastating attacks. Charizard went down first, then Blastoise, then Venusaur. The others followed in quick succession, overwhelmed by the beast's raw power.
Only Pikachu remained standing.
The little electric-type had fought with everything it had. Thunder after Thunder slammed into the Tyranitar, each attack more desperate than the last. But the rock and dark-type was resistant to electricity, its hide absorbing the attacks that would have felled lesser opponents. It kept coming, kept attacking, kept pushing Pikachu closer and closer to the edge of defeat.
And then, in a moment of desperate heroism, Pikachu had done something incredible.
It had used all of its remaining energy—every last spark of electricity in its body—to unleash an attack of unprecedented power. Not a Thunder, not a Thunderbolt, but something beyond any move that had a name. Pure electrical force, channeled through a body that was never meant to contain such power, directed at the Tyranitar with the full force of a Pokémon's love for its trainer.
The attack worked. The Tyranitar fell, finally overwhelmed by the cumulative damage of the battle. The cave was saved. Red was saved.
But Pikachu wasn't.
The strain had been too much. Using that much power had burned out something essential in the little electric-type's body, something that couldn't be healed or repaired. Red had rushed it to the nearest Pokémon Center, had begged every nurse and doctor he could find for help, had even released Mewtwo and asked the psychic legendary to intervene.
Nothing worked. Some damage was beyond even legendary power to repair.
Pikachu died in Red's arms, three days after the battle. Its last act was to nuzzle against his cheek, the same gesture of affection it had shown him countless times throughout their journey together. Then it closed its eyes, let out one final, peaceful sigh, and was gone.
Red had never spoken a word in his life. But in that moment, he had screamed.
A sound of pure anguish had torn from his throat—not words, but something more primal, more raw. The nurses and doctors had frozen in shock, stunned by the noise from the trainer who had never made a sound. But Red hadn't noticed. He had just sat there, holding his partner's body, screaming until his voice gave out and then continuing to scream in silence.
He had brought Pikachu back to Mt. Silver. Had buried it in this small chamber, deep in the mountain where it would never be disturbed. Had arranged the stones with his own hands, spending hours getting them just right, making sure the grave was worthy of the friend who had given everything for him.
And then he had retreated even further into isolation, his grief compounding his natural preference for solitude until he became more myth than man.
The partner Pikachu had arrived later—he wasn't sure how, Red's memories were fuzzy on this point—as if sent by some cosmic force to fill the void left by his fallen friend. It was different from the original, more playful and energetic, but it was still a Pikachu. Still a partner. Still someone who could understand him without words.
He knelt before the grave, reaching out to touch the cold stones with trembling fingers. The partner Pikachu hopped down from his shoulder and approached the grave with obvious reverence, its ears drooping, its usual spark of energy dimmed.
"Pika," it said softly, almost a whisper. A greeting, perhaps. An acknowledgment of the one who had come before.
He didn't know how long he knelt there, paying respects to a Pokémon he had never actually known but whose sacrifice he felt in his very bones. Red's grief had become his grief, the loss echoing through the merged consciousness that now inhabited this body. He had lost friends in his previous life—pets, relatives, people he cared about—but nothing had prepared him for the depth of feeling that came with a Pokémon bond.
They were more than partners. They were more than friends. They were two halves of the same soul, bound together by something that transcended the boundaries between species. When one half died, the other was forever incomplete.
He understood now why Red had pushed himself so hard, why he had sought ever greater heights of power. It wasn't just about self-improvement or the love of training. It was penance. It was a promise. Never again would he be caught unprepared. Never again would he lose someone because he wasn't strong enough to protect them.
The partner Pikachu climbed back onto his shoulder, pressing close against his neck in a gesture of comfort. He reached up to touch it, reassuring himself of its presence, its warmth, its life.
He would protect this one. No matter what it took, no matter what challenges arose, he would never let another partner die because of his weakness.
He left the burial chamber and made his way back to the main living area. The grief still sat heavy in his chest, but it had transformed into something else—determination, resolve, a burning need to be better than he was.
It was time to train with his legendaries.
He emerged from the caves onto the summit, the eternal snow and wind greeting him like old friends. The sky was clear today, a brilliant blue that seemed to stretch forever in every direction. He could see for miles from this vantage point—the peaks of surrounding mountains, the distant shimmer of lakes and rivers, the patchwork of forests and fields that made up the Johto countryside far below.
One by one, he released his legendary Pokémon.
Articuno materialized first, the ice-type spreading its crystalline wings wide as it adjusted to the mountain air. It was in its element here, the cold and snow perfectly suited to its nature. It let out a cry that echoed across the peaks, a sound of pure, unbridled joy at being released in such an ideal environment.
Zapdos followed, the electric-type crackling with barely contained energy as it burst from its Poké Ball. Lightning arced between its wings and the snow-covered ground, leaving scorch marks that immediately began to fill with fresh powder. It circled overhead, its sharp eyes scanning for threats or challenges.
Moltres completed the trio, its flames burning bright and hot against the frozen landscape. Steam rose wherever it passed, snow vaporizing in the presence of its legendary heat. It was the least comfortable of the three in this environment, but it bore the cold with dignified stoicism.
The legendary beasts of Johto emerged next. Raikou touched down on the snow with barely a sound, its cloud-like mane flowing in the wind, its movements precise and controlled. Entei followed, its volcanic presence creating a circle of melted snow around its massive body, its eyes burning with inner fire. Suicune was last, the elegant water-type seeming to glide across the snow rather than walk, its ribbon-like tails streaming behind it like banners.
Lugia descended from above, its silver wings catching the light as it landed with surprising grace for such a massive creature. It regarded him with ancient, knowing eyes, a guardian of the seas somehow at peace atop a frozen mountain. Ho-Oh followed, its rainbow plumage creating a stark contrast to the white landscape, its presence filling him with a warmth that had nothing to do with temperature.
And finally, Mewtwo materialized at the edge of the gathering, its psychic power creating a subtle distortion in the air around it. It floated rather than stood, its eyes fixed on him with an intensity that would have been unnerving if he hadn't felt the respect underlying that gaze.
Twelve legendary Pokémon. Twelve beings of unimaginable power, any one of which could reshape the landscape on a whim. And they were all looking at him, waiting for direction, ready to follow whatever commands he gave.
The weight of that responsibility pressed down on him, heavy and humbling. These weren't just Pokémon—they were forces of nature given form, concepts made manifest. They represented fire and ice and lightning, life and death and everything in between. They could destroy cities or save worlds, depending on how they were directed.
And they had chosen to follow Red. Chosen to be captured, chosen to be trained, chosen to serve a human who couldn't even speak their language in the traditional sense.
He didn't feel worthy of that trust. But he would try to be.
The training session that followed was unlike anything he had experienced before. Normal training involved pushing Pokémon to improve their existing abilities, refining techniques and building endurance. Training with legendaries was something else entirely.
These Pokémon didn't need to improve—they were already at the peak of their potential. What they needed was coordination, the ability to work together as a team despite their vastly different natures and abilities. A legendary Pokémon fighting alone was devastating. A team of legendaries fighting in perfect sync was unstoppable.
He started with the legendary birds, having them practice aerial maneuvers that required precise timing and spatial awareness. Articuno would create barriers of ice, Zapdos would shatter them with lightning, and Moltres would sweep through with flames to clear the debris. It was beautiful and terrifying in equal measure, a dance of elemental destruction that left the sky scarred with afterimages.
The legendary beasts worked on ground-based tactics. Raikou's speed made it the perfect scout and striker, darting in to deliver devastating attacks before retreating to safety. Entei served as the heavy hitter, its volcanic power capable of breaking through any defense. Suicune provided support, its purifying abilities able to cleanse status conditions and restore stamina to its teammates.
Lugia and Ho-Oh practiced their own coordination, the guardians of sea and sky learning to complement each other's strengths. Lugia's defensive abilities paired perfectly with Ho-Oh's offensive power, creating a combination that could weather any assault and return it tenfold.
Mewtwo trained alone, as it preferred. The psychic legendary was too powerful to integrate easily with the others, its abilities operating on a different level entirely. Instead, it focused on refining its already formidable techniques, pushing the boundaries of what psychic power could achieve.
The partner Pikachu participated as well, somehow keeping pace with beings that should have been infinitely beyond its level. The little electric-type darted between the legendaries with fearless enthusiasm, dodging attacks that would have annihilated lesser Pokémon, contributing its own devastating strikes whenever an opening presented itself.
Hours passed. The sun crossed the sky, its light shifting from morning gold to afternoon white to evening orange. The legendaries trained without complaint, without fatigue, their stamina seemingly limitless. Only when full darkness fell did he finally call a halt to the session.
He recalled his Pokémon one by one, each disappearing into its ball with a flash of red light. The summit returned to its usual quiet, the wind the only sound in the darkness.
He was exhausted. Not physically—Red's body was in peak condition, capable of enduring far more than this—but mentally. Coordinating twelve legendary Pokémon, even for training purposes, required a level of focus and concentration that drained him in ways he hadn't expected.
But it was a good exhaustion. The kind that came from meaningful work, from progress toward a goal. He was getting better at this. His legendaries were getting better at working together. Given enough time, they would become an unstoppable force, capable of facing any challenge the world might throw at them.
He returned to the caves, ate a quiet meal, and prepared for sleep. The partner Pikachu curled up on his chest as usual, its warmth a comfort against the cold that he couldn't feel but knew was there.
As he drifted off, his last thought was of the grave in the back of the cave, and the promise he had made to never lose another partner.
Far to the south, in a region that was both familiar and foreign, three young travelers were experiencing their first taste of Johto.
Ash Ketchum stood at the railing of the ferry, his eyes wide with wonder as the coastline of the new region grew closer. The wind whipped through his perpetually messy black hair, threatening to dislodge the cap that had become as much a part of him as his own skin. On his shoulder, a Pikachu with bright red cheeks surveyed the approaching land with equal excitement.
"Can you believe it, Pikachu?" Ash exclaimed, his voice carrying the boundless enthusiasm that defined his character. "A whole new region to explore! New Pokémon to meet! New badges to win! This is going to be amazing!"
"Pika pika!" his partner agreed, its ears perking up at the sight of the unfamiliar terrain.
Behind Ash, his traveling companions watched the scene with varying degrees of amusement and fondness.
Misty stood with her arms crossed, her orange hair pulled back in its signature side ponytail. She had grown since their first meeting in Pallet Town, both physically and as a trainer. The hot-headed girl who had demanded a new bike was still there, but she had been tempered by months of adventure and friendship into something more mature. Mostly.
"You say that about every new region," she pointed out, though her tone was more affectionate than critical. "And every time, you end up getting us into trouble."
"That's not true!" Ash protested, turning to face her with an indignant expression. "Name one time I got us into trouble!"
"Team Rocket," Misty said flatly.
"That's not my fault! They follow us everywhere!"
"The Tentacruel incident in Porta Vista."
"That was an accident!"
"The time you almost got us eaten by a giant Dragonite."
"Okay, that one was a little my fault, but—"
Brock stepped between them, his hands raised in a peacekeeping gesture. The oldest of the trio, he had assumed the role of mediator and caretaker, keeping his younger friends from killing each other during their long journey. His eyes, perpetually squinted in an expression that somehow conveyed wisdom and warmth, crinkled with amusement.
"Let's save the arguing for after we dock, okay?" he suggested. "We've got a whole new adventure ahead of us. New Pokémon, new gyms, new recipes to try..."
His expression shifted to one of dreamy contemplation at the mention of recipes, and Ash and Misty exchanged a knowing look. Brock's obsession with cooking was matched only by his obsession with beautiful women—both of which had a tendency to distract him at inconvenient moments.
The ferry docked at New Bark Town's small port, and the trio disembarked with their Pokémon in tow. Pikachu remained on Ash's shoulder, while Misty's Togepi poked its head out of her bag, chirping with curiosity at the new surroundings. Brock carried his own bag, stuffed with cooking supplies and breeding equipment.
New Bark Town was small—smaller even than Pallet Town, which was saying something. A handful of houses clustered around a central square, with Professor Elm's laboratory visible on a hill at the edge of the settlement. The air smelled of salt and grass, a pleasant combination that spoke of peaceful rural life.
"So this is Johto," Ash breathed, taking in the sights with obvious appreciation. "It's different from Kanto, but it feels... right, you know?"
"It's certainly quieter," Misty observed. "Less traffic, fewer people. Kind of nice, actually."
"According to my guidebook, New Bark Town is known as 'The Town Where Winds of a New Beginning Blow,'" Brock recited, pulling out a well-worn travel guide. "It's where new trainers in Johto start their journeys, similar to Pallet Town in Kanto."
"Speaking of journeys," Ash said, his eyes lighting up with competitive fire, "I need to find out where the first gym is! I'm not wasting any time getting started on my Johto League challenge!"
He started marching toward the town center with determined strides, Pikachu clinging to his shoulder with practiced ease. Misty and Brock hurried to keep up, exchanging amused glances behind his back.
They stopped at a small café for lunch, their journey having built up considerable appetites. The establishment was cozy and welcoming, with wooden tables and a counter staffed by a friendly middle-aged woman. A few other patrons sat scattered around the room, locals enjoying their midday meals.
As Brock ordered food for the group—his treat, he insisted, since he wanted to sample the local cuisine—Ash found himself eavesdropping on a conversation at the next table. Two older trainers, probably in their twenties, were discussing something with obvious excitement.
"—heard he came down from the mountain last week," one of them was saying. "First time in years, apparently. Showed up at the Blackthorn Pokémon Center in the middle of the night."
"No way," the other replied, shaking his head in disbelief. "That's just a rumor. Red hasn't left Mt. Silver since he went up there. Everyone knows that."
"I'm telling you, my cousin works at the Center! She saw him with her own eyes. Said he had a Pikachu on his shoulder and everything."
Ash's ears perked up at the mention of Pikachu. He turned slightly in his seat, trying to hear more without being obvious about it.
"Even if it's true, so what?" the skeptical trainer continued. "It's not like he did anything. Came down, healed his Pokémon, went right back up. Classic Red."
"Classic Red," the first trainer agreed. "Man, can you imagine being that strong? That famous? They say he's never lost a battle since becoming Champion. Not once."
"I heard he caught every legendary Pokémon in Kanto and Johto. All of them. Even Mewtwo."
"That's definitely just a rumor. No one could catch Mewtwo. It's too powerful."
"Red's too powerful. Have you ever seen footage of his battles? It's insane. His Pokémon don't even look like they're trying, and they still destroy everyone who challenges them."
Ash couldn't contain his curiosity any longer. He turned fully toward the other table, his eyes wide with interest. "Excuse me," he interrupted, "but who's Red?"
The two trainers looked at him with expressions of surprise, then recognition as they took in his appearance—the cap, the Pikachu, the eager demeanor of a young trainer.
"You don't know who Red is?" one of them asked incredulously. "Where are you from, kid?"
"Pallet Town, in Kanto," Ash replied. "I've traveled all over, but I've never heard that name before."
The trainers exchanged glances. "Pallet Town? That's where Red is from, originally. He started his journey there, same as you probably did."
"Really?" Ash's interest intensified. "And he became Champion?"
"Not just Champion," the other trainer said, leaning forward with the enthusiasm of someone about to share their favorite story. "The Champion. The strongest trainer in the history of Kanto and Johto. Maybe the strongest trainer ever."
"He started his journey about ten years ago," the first trainer continued, picking up the narrative. "By the time he was your age, he had already beaten the Elite Four and become the Kanto Champion. But that wasn't enough for him. He kept training, kept getting stronger, until no one could even come close to challenging him."
"So he went to Mt. Silver," the second trainer finished. "The most dangerous place in both regions. Only Elite Four members are even allowed to try climbing it, and most of them turn back before reaching the summit. But Red made it to the top, and he's been there ever since. Just training. Waiting for someone strong enough to challenge him."
Ash sat in stunned silence, trying to process what he was hearing. A trainer from his own hometown, stronger than anyone else in the world, living in isolation on top of a mountain. It sounded like something out of a legend, a fairy tale told to inspire young trainers to push themselves harder.
But the way these older trainers spoke about Red, with such reverence and awe, made it clear that this was no fairy tale. Red was real. And apparently, he was everything Ash wanted to become.
"Has anyone ever beaten him?" Ash asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
The trainers shook their heads. "No one's even come close. A few Elite Four members have made the climb, challenged him at the summit. They all lost. Not close matches, either—total defeats. Red's Pokémon are on another level entirely."
"They say he can't speak," the first trainer added. "Never says a word. Just stands there at the top of the mountain, waiting in silence. It's creepy, honestly. But also kind of... inspiring, you know? Like he's transcended normal human concerns."
Misty and Brock had joined the conversation at some point, drawn in by the fascinating tale. Misty looked thoughtful, while Brock had an expression of professional interest.
"I've heard rumors about a trainer like that," Brock admitted. "Back when I was still running the Pewter Gym. They said the Champion had disappeared, gone somewhere no one could reach. I never knew the details, though."
"Well, now you know," the second trainer said with a shrug. "Red, the Silent Champion of Mt. Silver. The strongest trainer in the world. And if the rumors are true, he came down from the mountain last week. First time in years."
"Why?" Ash asked, his mind racing with possibilities. "Why would he come down after all this time?"
"No one knows. Like I said, he just showed up at the Blackthorn Pokémon Center, healed his Pokémon, and left. Didn't say anything—obviously—didn't do anything noteworthy. Just... appeared, then vanished again."
The conversation moved on to other topics, but Ash couldn't stop thinking about what he had heard. Red. The Silent Champion. The strongest trainer in the world, from his own hometown.
This changed everything.
He had come to Johto to challenge the Pokémon League, to test himself against a new set of gym leaders and hopefully prove himself worthy of the title of Pokémon Master. But now he had a new goal, one that made the Johto League seem almost insignificant by comparison.
He wanted to meet Red. He wanted to battle Red. He wanted to prove that he, Ash Ketchum from Pallet Town, could stand on the same level as the legendary trainer who had conquered the world.
"Ash?" Misty's voice cut through his thoughts. "You've got that look on your face. The one that usually means you're about to do something stupid."
"I'm not going to do anything stupid," Ash protested, though his expression remained intense. "I'm just... thinking."
"About Red?" Brock guessed, his tone knowing.
"Yeah." Ash turned to look at his friends, his eyes burning with determination. "I'm going to battle him someday. I'm going to climb Mt. Silver and challenge the strongest trainer in the world."
"Ash, you can't even beat the Elite Four yet," Misty pointed out, not unkindly. "Maybe focus on the Johto League first?"
"I know, I know." Ash waved off her concern with characteristic confidence. "I'm not saying I'm going to do it tomorrow. But someday—someday I will. And I'll win."
Pikachu let out a supportive "Pika!" from his shoulder, sharing its trainer's enthusiasm.
Brock smiled, shaking his head in amusement. "Well, that's certainly a goal worth working toward. But Misty's right—let's focus on the journey ahead. You've got eight gym badges to earn before you can even think about the Elite Four."
Ash nodded, his attention reluctantly shifting back to the immediate future. The first gym, the first badge, the first step on the long road to facing Red. He could be patient. He could take his time.
But as they left the café and continued their exploration of New Bark Town, he couldn't shake the image from his mind: a silent figure standing at the top of a frozen mountain, waiting for a challenger worthy of his strength.
Someday, he promised himself. Someday, that challenger would be him.
The stories of Red spread like wildfire through the towns and cities of Johto.
It started with the Blackthorn Pokémon Center, where Nurse Joy had been unable to contain her excitement about her famous visitor. She told her colleagues at other Centers, who told their patients, who told their friends and families. Within days, the news had spread to every corner of the region.
Red had come down from Mt. Silver.
For most people, this was simply an interesting piece of gossip, a story to share over meals and around campfires. Red was a legend, a myth made flesh, and any news about him was inherently fascinating. The speculation was endless—why had he descended? Where had he gone? Would he emerge again?
For trainers, though, the news meant something more. Red's appearance was a reminder of what was possible, of the heights that could be reached through dedication and skill. He was the ultimate goal, the final boss, the summit that every ambitious trainer dreamed of reaching.
Challenges were issued into the void, trainers declaring their intention to climb Mt. Silver and face the Champion. Most of them were dismissed as empty boasts—the mountain was too dangerous, the climb too treacherous, for all but the most elite trainers to attempt. But the enthusiasm was genuine, a reflection of the inspiration that Red's legend provided.
In Violet City, a young trainer named Falkner—recently appointed as the new Gym Leader following his father's retirement—spoke about Red with reverent admiration.
"My father faced him once," Falkner told anyone who would listen. "Years ago, when Red was still actively competing. He said it was like battling a force of nature. His Pokémon moved in perfect sync, responding to commands that were never spoken aloud. It was the most beautiful and terrifying thing he'd ever seen."
In Goldenrod City, where Team Rocket was still causing trouble at the Radio Tower, whispered rumors suggested that Red might intervene. The criminals had grown bolder in recent weeks, their activities increasingly disruptive. Some hoped that the legendary Champion would descend from his mountain to put an end to their schemes.
But Red didn't come. The Radio Tower situation continued to escalate, waiting for a different hero to resolve it.
In Ecruteak City, the Kimono Girls spoke of Red in hushed, almost reverential tones. They had encountered him during his original journey through Johto, had tested him with their Eeveelutions, had recognized something special in the silent trainer from Kanto.
"He understood balance," the eldest of the sisters said during one of their performances. "The balance between strength and restraint, between ambition and humility. Most trainers seek power for its own sake. Red sought power to protect what he loved."
In Blackthorn City, the Dragon Clan elders recalled Red's visit with a mixture of respect and wariness. The Champion had passed through their territory on his way to Mt. Silver, had even visited the Dragon's Den to pay respects to the shrine within.
"The dragons recognized him," one elder recalled. "Not as a threat, but as an equal. A human who had earned the right to stand among legends."
And in Pallet Town, far to the east in the Kanto region, an aging woman sat in a small house filled with trophies and photographs, thinking of the son she hadn't seen in years.
Red's mother—for that was who she was—had never stopped hoping for her boy's return. The notes he sent were rare and sparse, simple drawings that conveyed his continued survival but little else. She understood his need for solitude, had always understood it, even when he was a small child who preferred the company of Pokémon to other humans.
But understanding didn't make the loneliness any easier to bear.
She had heard the rumors, of course. Red coming down from the mountain, appearing in Johto for the first time in years. Her heart had leaped with hope that he might finally be ready to come home, to reconnect with the life he had left behind.
But days passed, and no word came. No visit, no letter, no sign that her son even remembered she existed.
She told herself it was okay. She told herself that Red was following his own path, living his own life, becoming the person he was meant to be. She told herself that a mother's love didn't require reciprocation to be valid.
But sometimes, late at night when the house was quiet and the memories pressed close, she allowed herself to cry.
Back on Mt. Silver, unaware of the ripples his brief descent had created, the being who was and wasn't Red continued his training.
He had made a decision during the night, somewhere between sleep and waking. He would stay on the mountain for now—not forever, but long enough to truly master the abilities he had inherited. Red's power was immense, but it was also unfamiliar, like wearing clothes that didn't quite fit. He needed time to grow into it, to make it truly his own.
But he wouldn't stay in isolation forever. The world was out there, with its problems and its possibilities, its challenges and its wonders. There were people who needed help, injustices that needed addressing, adventures that needed having.
And somewhere out there, though he didn't know it yet, a young trainer from Pallet Town had just learned his name and sworn to one day stand before him as a worthy opponent.
The future was uncertain, full of paths not yet taken and choices not yet made. But for the first time since waking up in this strange new life, he felt something approaching hope.
He wasn't alone. He had his Pokémon, his partners, his family of powerful and devoted creatures. He had the memories of two lives, the experiences of two people, merged into something new and unique.
And he had time. Time to train, time to prepare, time to figure out what kind of person he wanted to become in this world of wonders.
The partner Pikachu chirped from its perch on his shoulder, its cheeks sparking with playful electricity.
He reached up to scratch behind its ears, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
Tomorrow, he would train again. He would push himself and his Pokémon to new heights, would explore the limits of what was possible.
But today, he would simply exist. Simply be.
And that, for now, was enough.