"Ash... no!"
Serena didn't understand why the bedraggled ginger cat—a creature that looked more like a stray from a city alley than any Pokémon she'd seen in the Kalos guidebooks—was so important to Ash. She didn't understand why he was calling it "Barnaby" or why he was looking at it with such heartbroken recognition. But one thing she understood with absolute, five-year-old clarity: she wasn't going anywhere.
As the Pinsir loomed, its shadow swallowing them both, the frail girl didn't retreat. Instead, she scrambled to her feet and planted herself firmly in front of Ash, her small arms spread wide like a shield. Her knees were still shaking, and her eyes were brimming with tears, but her stance was as unyielding as a mountain.
"Serena! What are you doing? I told you to run!" Ash shouted, his voice cracking with exasperation. He grabbed her shoulders and tried to pull her back, his adult mind screaming at the sheer recklessness of it. "Do you have any idea how dangerous this is? That thing can snap a tree trunk like a dry twig!"
"I don't care!" Serena yelled back, her voice startlingly loud in the quiet of the woods. "I won't go! My mom says that a true friend never leaves someone behind. If I run away and leave you to get hurt, I'll never be able to look at myself in the mirror again!"
"You're an idiot!" Ash groaned, but he stopped trying to push her away. Instead, he stepped up beside her, tightening his grip on the splintered remains of his oak branch.
Great, Ash thought, his mind racing. I've got my future childhood-friend-turned-heroine on one side and my suicidal cat on the other. If this is how my legendary journey starts, it's going to be a very short book.
The Pinsir clicked its pincers in a mocking rhythm—Clang. Clang. It seemed to be savoring their fear, its red eyes pulsing with malevolent glee.
Ash looked at Barnaby. The cat was crouched low, his fur standing on end until he looked like an orange dandelion. He was a coward by nature—this was a cat who would sprint for the closet if the doorbell rang too loudly. Ash expected him to bolt at any second, to leave the humans to their fate and find a nice, safe hole to hide in.
"Honestly, as a shut-in, I never expected much from myself," Ash whispered to the air, a self-deprecating smile tugging at his lips. He looked at the Pinsir, his fear suddenly curdling into a cold, sharp anger. "But you... you giant, overgrown beetle... you've got a lot of nerve bullying a girl and a cat who's had a really, really bad day."
Mrow!
A flash of orange fur blurred past Ash's vision.
Barnaby, the cat who lived for tuna and naps, didn't run. He didn't hide. He let out a hoarse, guttural scream that was half-meow and half-war-cry, leaped high over their heads, and landed squarely between the children and the monster.
"Barnaby?" Ash gasped. "You're... you're staying?"
The cat didn't look back. His tail was puffed up like a feather duster, and his legs were trembling so hard he looked like he might collapse, but he stayed. He lowered his head, his ears flattening against his skull, and then, with a desperate burst of speed, he launched himself forward.
WHAM!
Barnaby slammed his forehead into the Pinsir's sturdy leg. It was a clumsy, unrefined tackle, but it carried the weight of every ounce of his feline courage. The Pinsir, caught off guard by the sheer audacity of the tiny creature, stumbled back a step.
Barnaby, however, fared much worse. The recoil of hitting the armored Pokémon sent him spinning backward through the air. He crashed into the dirt at Ash's feet, his legs splaying out as he struggled to find his footing.
"Was that... a Tackle?" Serena whispered, her eyes wide. "Did a normal cat just use a Pokémon move?"
Ash's mind was reeling. In the games, "Tackle" was the most basic of moves, but seeing a housecat perform it in real life was something else entirely. Is he... is he becoming a Pokémon? Or has this world's energy already started changing him?
Barnaby scrambled up, his breathing heavy, his fur matted with fresh dirt. He didn't wait. He charged again.
THUD.
This time, the Pinsir was ready. It didn't even move its feet. It simply waited for the cat to close the distance and then delivered a brutal, contemptuous kick with its heavy, armored foot. Barnaby was sent tumbling like a discarded toy, sliding across the turf until he hit the base of an oak tree.
"Barnaby! Stop it!" Ash screamed, running toward him. "You can't win! Just run, you idiot! Hide in the bushes!"
The cat groaned, a pained, wheezing sound, but he pushed himself up again. His eyes were clouded with pain, yet his gaze remained fixed on the Pinsir. He wouldn't move. He wouldn't let the monster get past him. He let out a low, raspy hiss and began to crawl forward once more.
Crunch.
The sound was sickening.
Before Barnaby could launch a third attack, the Pinsir moved with terrifying speed. Its giant pincers snapped shut around the cat's middle, hoisting him into the air.
"AWOOOO-MEOW!"
Barnaby let out a mournful, agonizing cry. He flailed his legs, his claws scraping uselessly against the Pinsir's impenetrable chitinous shell. He was a "Big Orange" cat, weighing maybe fifteen pounds at his peak, but held in the grip of a hundred-pound predatory insect, he looked as fragile as a piece of glass.
"No... stop it! Let him go!" Serena was crying now, covering her mouth with her hands.
Ash stood frozen. His old life—the life of the shut-in who avoided conflict, who hid behind screens, who let the world pass him by—screamed at him to run. You're five years old, the voice whispered. You're weak. You're nothing. You're just a failure in a new body.
But then he looked at Barnaby. The cat was being crushed, his ribs likely cracking under the pressure, yet he wasn't wailing. He was still fighting. His tail was lashing out, striking the Pinsir's face, and his hind legs were kicking frantically at the monster's eyes. Even in the jaws of death, the cat was trying to protect the human who had once saved him from a rainy alleyway.
"I am... the most pathetic master in history," Ash whispered, his voice trembling with a fury so deep it felt like it was tearing his soul apart.
He looked at his small, pale hands. He looked at Serena, who was trembling behind him. And then he looked at the Pinsir, which was beginning to squeeze harder, its red eyes glowing with the intent to end Barnaby's life.
"I said... LET! HIM! GO!"
BUZZ.
The air in the clearing suddenly hummed. It was the sound of a thousand bees, the vibration of a tuning fork, the roar of a distant ocean.
Ash felt his mind clear with a violent, crystalline snap. The fear didn't vanish—it was simply pushed aside by something much larger. A reservoir of energy he hadn't known he possessed suddenly breached its dam.
Aura.
But it wasn't the raw, wild Aura of a Pokémon. It was structured. It felt ancient, heavy, and filled with a sense of duty. It felt like the "Paladin" from his favorite game had finally found a home in his chest.
"Power?" Ash whispered, looking at his hands. They were no longer just small and pale; they were enveloped in a soft, rhythmic pulse of sapphire-blue light. It wasn't a flame; it was a tide. It was the Wave.
The Pinsir paused, sensing the sudden shift in the atmosphere. It looked at the boy, its primitive brain detecting a predator far more dangerous than anything it had faced in the woods.
Ash didn't think. He didn't plan. He simply knew what to do. The memories of his past life as a writer of fantasy and the new instincts of the "Paladin of the Wave" fused into a single command.
"Barnaby!" Ash roared, his voice carrying a resonance that made the very leaves on the trees vibrate. "You took the hit for me! Now, let's finish this together! Since we've come to this world to be legends, let's start by showing this bug what a real bond looks like!"
Ash extended his palm toward his cat, his eyes glowing with the same brilliant blue as his hands.
"Sovereign's Grace!"
A beam of pure, azure light erupted from Ash's palm. It wasn't an attack; it was a bridge. The light slammed into Barnaby's chest, disappearing into his fur.
Instantly, the cat's pained cries stopped. His eyes snapped open, glowing with an intense, sapphire fire. His fur, once matted and dull, began to stand on end, shimmering with a blue electric static. The "Sovereign's Grace"—the unique ability of a Wave-Guiding Paladin—had formed a contract between them. It took Ash's raw willpower and channeled it directly into Barnaby, magnifying his strength, his speed, and his resolve a hundredfold.
"MROWWWW!"
Barnaby let out a roar that sounded more like a Pyroar than a housecat. He began to grow, his muscles rippling beneath his orange fur, his body filling with an explosive, supernatural power.
The Pinsir's pincers began to groan. It was trying to squeeze, but it was like trying to crush a block of solid titanium. Barnaby was pushing back.
Ash felt his vision blur. The cost of the "Sovereign's Grace" was immense; it was draining his life force, his very spirit, at a rate he couldn't sustain. His knees buckled, and he fell backward.
"Ash!" Serena caught him, her small arms wrapping around him to keep him from hitting the ground.
"I'm... okay..." Ash wheezed, his head lolling against her shoulder. His face was pale, his forehead drenched in sweat, but his eyes were still locked on the battle. "Barnaby... now! Aim for the eyes! Shatter the Wave!"
Barnaby understood. He didn't need words. He felt Ash's intent pulsing through the blue light connecting them. His fluffed-up tail, now heavy with Aura, swept across the Pinsir's eyes like a whip of blue lightning.
The Pinsir shrieked, its vision clouded by the searing light. Its pincers loosened for a split second—and that was all Barnaby needed.
With a roar of defiance, the cat kicked off the Pinsir's chest with all four paws, the force of the jump sending the fifty-kilogram Pokémon stumbling back into the dirt. Barnaby flipped through the air, landing with the grace of a master assassin, his blue eyes burning with the thrill of victory.
"Hmph!" Barnaby hissed, his tail twitching in triumph.