The hospital room was quiet for exactly three seconds before the storm broke.
"Gary!"
Ash didn't care that his muscles felt like they had been tenderized by a Fighting-type's Close Combat. He didn't care that the IV drip had only just been removed. He threw the white linen covers aside, his bare feet hitting the cold linoleum floor with a sharp slap, and lunged out of the bed.
"Take it back! Apologize to Barnaby right now!"
Gary Oak didn't flinch. He adjusted the collar of his expensive polo shirt, his smirk as sharp as a Skarmory's wing. "Apologize? Are you kidding me, Ashy-boy? Why should I apologize to a weakling? I'm an Oak. We deal in facts, and the fact is, that thing is a defect. It's supposed to be a Persian, right? But it's small, it's the wrong color, and it looks like it belongs in a dumpster behind a grocery store rather than a Trainer's team. It's a stray, at best."
"You... you arrogant brat!"
Ash exploded. He didn't use Aura. He didn't use a move. He simply threw a very human, very unrefined punch. It caught Gary squarely in the jaw, the impact sending a jolt of satisfaction up Ash's arm.
Gary let out a yelp of pure shock before his own temper flared. "Oh, you want to go? Fine! Let's go!"
In an instant, the two five-year-olds were a chaotic tangle of limbs, rolling across the floor of the Research Institute's infirmary. It wasn't a legendary battle of destiny; it was a messy, undignified scuffle involving hair-pulling, half-hearted headlocks, and muffled grunts of "Take it back!" and "Make me!"
Serena stood by the bed, her hands clasped over her mouth, her eyes wide with alarm. "Shouldn't we... shouldn't we do something?" she asked, looking frantically between Delia and Professor Oak. "They're going to hurt each other! Stop them!"
Delia Beaumont, however, was currently leaning against the wall, her expression one of amused resignation. She was the quintessential Pallet Town mother—tough, practical, and remarkably unfazed by the sight of her son wrestling on the floor.
"Oh, don't mind them, dear," Delia said, reaching out to pat Serena's shoulder. "Boys have a certain amount of... tectonic energy they need to release. If they weren't fighting, I'd be worried they were sick. Would you like some of this Oran Berry juice? I made it fresh this morning."
Professor Oak stood nearby, a small notepad in hand, actually observing the fight with a scholarly squint. "Fascinating," he muttered. "The motor skills development is quite high for their age bracket. Notice the leverage Ash is using? He's compensating for his height disadvantage. Remarkable." He looked at Serena and offered a warm, crinkly-eyed smile. "Don't worry, Serena. This is how they say 'hello' in Pallet Town. They'll be fine."
Sure enough, after five minutes of heavy breathing and muffled thumps, the two boys finally rolled apart. They sat against the base of the hospital bed, both covered in dust, their hair looking like Pidgeotto nests.
"Damn it, Ash," Gary panted, rubbing a bright red patch on his cheek where the punch had landed. "You really meant it this time. That actually hurt."
"I told you," Ash gasped, his chest heaving as he stared Gary down. "Apologize. To. Barnaby."
Ash felt a strange sense of clarity. The disconnect he had felt since waking up in this body—the lingering ghost of the thirty-something shut-in—was finally dissolving. The punch, the dirt, the physical exertion... it grounded him. He wasn't just a visitor in this world anymore. He was part of it. Gary wasn't just a character on a screen; he was the annoying, brilliant, insufferable friend who was going to push him to be better.
"Hmph," Gary snorted, looking away but notably not insulting the cat again. "I won't apologize. Not yet. If you have the guts, wait until we're ten. We'll settle this with real Pokémon, on a real battlefield, to see who the strongest Trainer really is. But you? You're a slacker. You'll probably be too busy chasing butterflies to catch up to me."
"Is that a challenge?" Ash felt a grin spreading across his face—a wild, hungry expression that made Gary blink. "A Pokémon battle to settle the score? That's exactly what I want. When we're ten, I'm going to use Barnaby to beat you so hard you'll be apologizing to him in three different languages."
"You can talk when you can actually beat me in a race to the lab, Ashy-boy!" Gary retorted, standing up and brushing off his pants.
"Just you wait!" Ash shouted.
They stood up together, instinctively reaching out to help the other up, only to immediately let go and turn their heads in opposite directions with a synchronized "Hmph!"
"See?" Delia whispered to Serena, giggling behind her hand. "Friends for life. Even if they're too stubborn to admit it."
"Alright, alright," Professor Oak interrupted, clapping his hands together. "The 'duel' is over. Ash, your body is still recovering from that... whatever it was you did in the woods. You're staying here for a couple more days of observation. As for your cat—Barnaby, was it?—he'll stay here too. He's quite a protective fellow."
Oak looked at Barnaby with a mix of academic greed and genuine respect. Earlier, when they had found the unconscious Ash, the ginger cat had been a silent, snarling sentinel, refusing to let anyone—even the Professor—approach until Serena had managed to calm him down.
"He's highly intelligent," Oak continued. "And seemingly aware that you're the only one he can truly trust. He's been hiding in the shadows of the lab since we brought him in, only coming out when Serena mentioned you were awake. He's... unique, Ash. Very unique."
Later that night, the farce ended. The guests went home, and the Research Institute fell into a deep, scholarly silence. Ash sat on his bed, the moonlight from the high window casting long, silver streaks across the floor.
Barnaby was perched on the windowsill, his orange fur looking almost white in the lunar glow. He was watching a Butterfree flutter past the glass, his tail twitching in a rhythmic, predatory arc.
"Barnaby," Ash said softly.
The cat turned his head, his golden-green eyes locking onto Ash's. There was an intelligence there that went far beyond a normal housecat. He had seen the blue light; he had felt the Sovereign's Mandate bond. He knew they weren't in their cramped apartment anymore.
"Are you willing to do this?" Ash asked, his voice barely a whisper. "To accompany me to the peak of this world? It's not going to be like the games. It's going to be dangerous. There are things like that Pinsir everywhere."
Barnaby let out a familiar, grumpy Mrow. He jumped down from the sill, trotted over to the bed, and began to sniff around the base of the nightstand, looking for an escape route or perhaps a stray snack. He adopted a perfectly neutral, "I didn't hear a word you just said" expression.
Ash's face fell. "Seriously? You're going to do the 'aloof cat' thing now? After we almost died together?"
He reached out and scooped Barnaby up by the scruff, lifting him until they were eye-to-eye. "Listen up, you orange menace! I'm going to be the greatest Trainer this world has ever seen. And since you're the only one who knows where I really came from, you're stuck with me. You're my partner. My first Pokémon. My Paladin's Steed—well, eventually. Don't even think about running off to join a wild Meowth colony."
Barnaby blinked slowly. He reached out a white-socked paw and gently batted Ash's nose, a soft purr finally rumbling in his chest. His expression softened.
"Thanks, buddy," Ash said, setting him down. He offered his hand, palm up.
Barnaby hesitated for a moment, then placed his small, soft paw into Ash's palm. A faint, nearly invisible pulse of blue light flickered between them—a silent vow between a boy who was more than a boy and a cat who was more than a cat.
"To the peak," Ash promised.
The Summer Camp officially ended the next day.
The incident in the woods had spooked the town's more cautious parents. The idea of wild, frenzied Pinsirs roaming near the children's hiking paths was enough to cut the festivities short. For Ash, however, the end of the camp meant something much more personal.
It meant Serena was leaving.
The departure was at the Pallet Town docks, where a private transport was waiting to take the Kalos visitors back to the airport. The morning air was crisp and smelled of salt.
"It's a promise, okay?" Serena said, clutching her ribbon-adorned straw hat as the wind whipped around her. Her eyes were bright, and her face was flushed with the effort of not crying. "You have to come see me. In Kalos. You promised!"
"I will!" Ash shouted over the sound of the engines. "I'm going to be a Master, Serena! I'll travel every region, and Kalos is definitely on the list!"
"You'd better!" she waved one last time, her silhouette growing smaller as she boarded the vessel.
Ash stood on the pier until the boat was nothing more than a speck on the horizon. He felt a heavy, hollow ache in his chest—the "First Goodbye" of his new life. It was strange; in his old life, he wouldn't have cared. People came and went. But here, the emotions were heightened, more vibrant. Every friendship felt like it was written in the stars.
"Oh, Ash," Delia said, walking up behind him and resting a hand on his head. "Don't look so sad. A boy with your spirit... I have a feeling your paths will cross again. The world is big, but for people like you, it has a way of shrinking."
"I know, Mom," Ash said, wiping his eyes and putting on his best "protagonist" grin. "I'm not sad. I'm just... getting started."
He turned away from the ocean and headed back toward the heart of Pallet Town, Barnaby trotting faithfully at his heels.
They arrived at the Research Institute a short while later.
"Ah, Ash! Back so soon?" Professor Oak greeted him, looking up from a petri dish. "Are you here to visit your 'Persian'? I've set up a very comfortable enclosure for him in the back gardens."