Content Warning: Pokémon health and death features/is mentioned at the beginning of this chapter! It's not explicit, but since it's happened several times in the anime before, it's bound to be brought up here, too.

The litten woke him in the middle of the night, screaming up a storm, pacing and clawing at the walls. Ash stirred with a sharp pain above his brow and found himself staring into huge eyes, pupils blown so wide that the black all but swallowed the yellow sclerae.

"Mmh, Nyabby, what—" The litten struck him again, claws mostly retracted, then bolted for the front door, throwing its weight against it with a warbling, desperate wail. Ash blinked, rubbing at his cheek—then leapt out of bed, a heavy, awful sense of wrongness taking root in his gut.

They rushed to the pokémon centre alone. Nurse Joy lifted her head from the desk, eyes widening—Nyabby barrelled past her, clearing the desk in one clean leap and skittering down the hallway into the hospital section.

"Stop right there," Nurse Joy started, rising from her chair. She held out one arm, forcing Ash to halt. "It's unsuitable for children—"

"It's Stoutland," Ash retorted, breathlessly, around his hammering heart. "There's something wrong with Stoutland."

Nurse Joy paled—and let him past, though it didn't feel like a deliberate act. He followed pulses of Nyabby's pain down winding corridors, taking a sharp turn to the left and to a door shoved slightly ajar. The distress rolling through the crack was so loud that his feet rooted themselves to the ground.

He took a deep breath; tried to swallow the lump in his throat, though it stubbornly persisted; and pushed the door open to let himself in. Nurse Joy hovered at his back, shadowing him.

Inside the room was quiet and still, save for the quiet, drawn-out, unchanging squeal of the heart monitor. Nyabby was balanced on the table Stoutland lay upon, face pushed into the dog's thick fur, and Stoutland was—Stoutland was—Ash couldn't feel it, anymore. Even when its Aura had been weak, it had been solid, and now it was—

Stupidly, stupidly, Nurse Joy stepped around Ash's frozen form and reached out to take Nyabby away—and in an instant, Nyabby exploded.

Fire gathered in its maw, jaws snapping shut dangerously close to Nurse Joy's outstretched fingers; its claws followed, not nearly as merciful, and shredded the back of the woman's hand. She withdrew with a pained gasp, fumbling for her pager and hitting a button that, within minutes, drew assistants carrying long, silvery leash poles.

"Wait, you're gonna hurt it! Stop it!" Ash shouted, shaken from the harrowed trance that had settled over him, though his protests fell on deaf ears. Nyabby scrambled off the table and dodged the first leash; the second pole was caught in the grip of its fire fang, metal bending and warping in the extreme heat. "Leave it alone!"

Reckless with desperation, he pushed through to Nyabby, who was backed into a corner, and—

"Wait—!"

—came face to face with Nurse Joy's blissey. Sing hit his ears; his shoulders hit the wall; he hit the floor, blocking Nyabby in; and everything went dark.

He came to in the waiting room, head feeling as though it was full of lead. Groggily, he sat up, pushing his knuckles into his eyes, and tried to piece together what had happened.

Stoutland, he recalled—and his stomach flipped. Stoutland had—it'd—and Nyabby had—

The door swung open, and Nurse Joy's blissey waddled into the room, wringing her hands.

"Nyabby," he blurted, as Blissey approached. "Where—"

Blissey took one of Ash's hands in both of hers and squeezed gently. "Aah," she said, peering up at him apologetically. He peered back, for a moment, trying to work out what she meant—then lit up, smiling sheepishly.

"Oh, right," he said, reaching out to pat her head. "'S'okay, I know you didn't mean to knock me out." She looked… happier, at that, pensive expression softening. "Is—is Nurse Joy alright? Where's… what happened to Nyabby?"

Blissey looked—nervous, all of a sudden. "Aah…" she murmured, pulling Ash to his feet and leading him out into the front of the pokémon centre. It was quiet and dimly lit, empty save for a heavy crate sat on the front desk. Glazed, venomous yellow eyes stared out from the bars—then softened, minimally, when they settled on Ash. Conspicuously, Blissey shifted to hide behind him, guilt written on her simple face.

"Nyabby!" Ash whisper-shouted, rushing to free it. The litten stumbled when it stepped out of the crate, and he steadied it with a hand under its belly. "You're okay," he said, holding it tightly, and Nyabby let him, maybe because it was groggy, or maybe because it wanted to trust him, even if just a little bit.

… But Nurse Joy. Blissey. Pokémon centres. Nyabby's hatred was so powerful it permeated the empty waiting room, permeated Ash. They were—irredeemable, in Nyabby's eyes. Ash could feel its conviction as though it was his own.

The walk back to the lab was silent and subdued. Nyabby didn't fight him—but it had no reason to: there was no Stoutland to run back to anymore. Ash knew Nyabby didn't blame him for Stoutland's death, but he blamed himself for taking it away from its home, for letting it waste away in a foreign, sterile place, surrounded by wires and white walls and not by those who had cared about it.

Kukui was waiting for them, Iwanko at his feet, and he didn't need to ask anything to know. Ash was grateful for that, because he wasn't sure if he'd be able to verbalise it, anyway. He'd seen pokémon die before, had held Lucario's paw in the Tree of Beginning while it had faded into nothingness, but it wasn't—it never—it never got easier.

He wished it did. He wished he knew what to say, when Nyabby slunk beneath his bed and buried itself into the darkest corner of his makeshift room, melting into the shadows and refusing to come out for days and days. It wouldn't eat. It wouldn't drink. Iwanko crept in after it, trying to coax it out, and reemerged with nothing but fresh scars to show for its efforts.

"... I'm sorry," Ash murmured one night, voice thick and wet and strangled, one hand pushed blindly into the space beneath his bed. Pikachu burrowed its face into the crook of his neck and tucked its tail beneath his collarbone, uneasiness radiating off it. "I know you loved Stoutland, and Stoutland seemed like it really loved you, too. I really—I really thought they could save it."

Nyabby said nothing—but after a moment, it rasped its sandpapery tongue across his fingers, then set its chin over his knuckles and began to purr—quietly, but steadily. They fell asleep like that, and when Ash awoke with a blanket thrown over him—well—Professor Kukui didn't know anything about it.

That evening, though Nyabby didn't come out from under Ash's bed, it accepted his nightly offering of a berry. The evening after, it poked its head out into the open, and three evenings later, Ash emerged from the laboratory basement to find it rummaging through his backpack, and it pulled out an empty poké ball, and butted its head into his hand with a gentle mrrow, and—

And then it was his, just like that.

Another week passed before Ash felt ready to battle Hala—before even Nyabby grew impatient with his hesitation. (It could be good, Rotom had suggested, for helping Nyabby get over its grief, bzzt.) The Kahuna accepted his challenge immediately, though before Ash could hope to face him, he said, he would have to accompany him to the Ruins of Conflict and seek Tapu Koko's approval. Ash agreed readily, partly out of eagerness to fight, and partly out of hope. He wanted to see Tapu Koko again—if not for battle, then simply to ask It questions. (Why had It chosen to battle Ash? What did It want from him?)

Hala led him into the ruins and up to Tapu Koko's great stone shrine, inviting him to climb the stairs to its podium. "Tell me," he said once they had both alighted on the shrine's patterned base, looking across at Ash, "what do you know about the Ordinance of the Tapus?"

Ash cupped his chin, thinking. "Kiawe said that the Tapus used to fight demons that came from other worlds," he said, "to protect Alola. He said Their power is what made Z-crystals, or… or something. He said something about some heroes, too…?"

Hala hummed. "The guardian deities protect Alola from invaders—though They also used to war against one another, until the destruction They caused in Their wars grew too great for the islands to sustain human life. Once, They battled our most powerful gods—and though They were defeated, They were rewarded for Their bravery, and that reward is what helped Them keep Alola safe in its darkest hours."

He eased down onto his knees, settling back on his heels; Ash stared at him for a moment, before dropping down to join him. "You see, my boy, the Island Challenge is not simply a test of strength in the way a gym challenge is. It's a test of your connection to Alola, to your pokémon, and how you interact with them, and the world, and how you give yourself to life."

He swept his hand along the base of Tapu Koko's shrine. "Each Kahuna must push the challengers that face them to overcome a trial that honours the deity of the island, and that helps them develop as a trainer—and as a person. As far as grand trials go, mine is the most straightforward: we will battle traditionally, with three pokémon each. If you win, you will earn yourself a fightinium-Z—and the right to move on in the Island Challenge."

Ash nodded, fire stirring in his chest. Hala bowed his head.

"But first, we must pray. Tapu Koko is a wrathful god, and I don't want to anger It before we've even begun."

They emerged from the shrine to an oppressive, humid heat, sun blazing bright in the sky. Hala shielded his face as he looked up at it, leading Ash across the precarious bridge, down Mahalo Trial, and through Iki Town to the battlefield, where Professor Kukui was waiting for them, Iwanko pacing around his ankles.

"Tapu Koko heard our prayers," Hala said, "and It answered them. Our battle today should be uninterrupted; Professor Kukui will referee."

"Thanks, Professor!" Ash took his place on one side of the battlefield, watching Hala do the same across from him. Professor Kukui mounted the referee's podium, motioning for the kahuna to release his first pokémon.

The one he selected was a stout, purple crab with rounded, bluish claws and a yellow and red piece of fabric wrapped around its midsection. Poking out of Ash's open backpack, Rotom came to life.

"Crabrawler—or makenkani—the boxing pokémon. A fighting type, bzzt! Crabrawler are contentious pokémon that fight amongst one another to determine social standing. Their large pincers are used to protect their vulnerable faces and stomachs, and are their primary weaponry in battle—they're prone to breaking due to overuse, though regenerate quickly, bzzt. They prefer higher perches, often scaling trees and buildings, and are fiercely territorial, unleashing punches at faster than fifty miles per hour to defend their nests! When defeated, they produce a foul-smelling foam from their mouths to deter predators, bzzt!"

"Huh," Ash said. Crabrawler looked like it was supposed to be a water type, but appearances could be deceiving, and that did make things easier on him. He didn't want to have to use Pikachu right off the bat. "Iwanko, you're up!"

The puppy shook itself out and bounded out in front of Ash, striking the ground with its rocky mane and bristling all down its spine. Hala raised an eyebrow, but was silent.

"Iwanko, bzzt?" Rotom drifted out in front of Ash's face and prodded the space between his eyes. "But it's a rock type! Why wouldn't you go for a pokémon that isn't weak to fighting moves?"

Ash grinned. "I've gotta use it at some point. Why not now? 'Sides, facing tough situations and beating the odds is what makes battles so much fun!"

"... I don't get you, bzzt," Rotom admitted, but began to film with no further protests.

Professor Kukui raised an arm. "The challenger is granted the first move," he said. "Begin!"

"Howl, then tackle!" Ash called, and Iwanko rushed in—only to leap backwards, yelping, as Crabrawler shattered the ground at the puppy's paws.

Crabrawler's fists were fast. Over fifty miles per hour, Ash remembered, sweat forming on his brow already. It was hard to picture, without seeing it, just how blisteringly swift that was, but Crabrawler's pincers were blue streaks, blurring and leaving craters in their wake.

Iwanko danced around Crabrawler warily, snapping and growling to no avail: getting close was impossible. If they kept this up, sooner or later, Crabrawler would land an attack.

"Get back here, Iwanko! Use rock throw to cover yourself!"

Iwanko skittered back towards Ash while Crabrawler was preoccupied reducing rock throw to dust, casting him a questioning glance. He knew retreating wasn't—typical of him, not in ordinary battle, but he had to think of a strategy. A single crabhammer would likely be enough to knock Iwanko out; if power-up punch hit, Crabrawler would only grow stronger—and it was already leaving hollows in the ground.

Bite wasn't effective. Rock throw wasn't effective. Tackle would be, if Crabrawler's defence wasn't airtight, but smashing through it seemed impossible, and—

"Stop looking at the battle from Iwanko's perspective," Hala advised, snapping Ash unceremoniously from his thoughts. "Draw strength from Alola and transfer it into your pokémon—don't take their strength into yourself."

"I'm not," Ash started—then faltered. Because he did fight with his pokémon: their strength was shared, Auras intermingling, and they drew from one another. (Was that really so wrong? Had it ever failed him?)

"If you're just going to stand there, then Crabrawler and I will attack. Thunder punch!" Hala roared.

"Dodge it!" Iwanko darted to the left as Crabrawler closed in, then ducked to avoid another sparking fist—but the third caught its haunches as it leapt away, sending it tumbling head over heels with a pained yelp. "Iwanko!"

"Crabhammer!"

Hala was ruthless. Ash knew that some pokémon's punching moves hit harder innately, and certain adornments could increase physical strength—

"Sand attack!" he shouted, and Iwanko kicked dirt into Crabrawler's unguarded eyes. Blinded, its attack went wide. Its pincer wobbled, just a little, on impact with the ground.

Ash's eyes widened. Rotom had said something, earlier, about how crabrawler's pincers tended to break in battle, due to how frequently they were used. If he could dislodge just one of them, Iwanko stood a chance of actually hitting those weak spots Crabrawler so fiercely protected.

"Run around, Iwanko! Use rock throw and don't let up!"

Rotom drifted up to Ash's shoulder, screen a mosaic of multicoloured question marks. "Satoshi?"

Ash patted the pokédex reflexively. "Don't worry about it, Rotom."

Predictably, Crabrawler's fists made quick work of rock throw, moving like lightning. But Iwanko kept running, forcing it to spin in tight, disciplined circles, and the projectiles kept coming, and eventually, it began to stumble and sway, pincers held at an awkward angle. It swung to the left, overreaching, striking the hurled stone with the back of its left pincer—

And it snapped off, hitting the ground with a solid, full thunk. The crabrawler froze. Iwanko froze. Hala froze, for a moment, and that was all Ash needed.

He grinned, pointing at the crabrawler. "Rock throw!" Spurred into action, Iwanko sent Crabrawler tumbling backwards, weak side pummelled by the projectiles its remaining pincer couldn't reach. "Chase it down with tackle!"

"Power-up punch!"

"Bite! Throw it!"

For a moment, the two writhed in the dirt as a tangled, flailing mass of limbs, even as Crabrawler struck Iwanko's shoulder—then Iwanko righted itself, sinking its teeth into Crabrawler's stunted limb and flinging it high into the sky.

"Rock throw again! Knock it down!" The attack hit its mark; Crabrawler plummeted, helpless. "Now use tackle and finish it!"

Iwanko dashed across the battlefield, closing the distance between itself and Crabrawler.

Hala struck his chest. "Endeavour."

Ash's blood turned to ice. Iwanko crashed into Crabrawler, driving it into the dirt—and toppled over, collapsing in a heap on top of it. Professor Kukui approached, crouching beside them.

"Kahuna Hala's crabrawler is unable to battle," he announced. "The challenger's rockruff is—"

Iwanko stirred, weakly, and rolled away from Crabrawler. Slowly, but determinedly, it dragged itself to its feet. Ash breathed out a shaky sigh of relief.

"—still standing. The winner is the challenger, Ash!"

"For Iwanko to go from almost perfect health to barely standing with one attack… no wonder Tapu Koko chose Hala to be Its Kahuna, bzzt," Rotom mused. Ash nodded, pale and grim-faced. In one move, Hala had undone the very point of his caution, had rendered his strategy almost obsolete.

He reached for Iwanko's poké ball. "Good job, Iwanko," he praised. "Take a break. You've earned it."

Iwanko rounded on him with a ferocious growl. Ash didn't need Aura, or a translator, to understand its intent; he clipped the poké ball back to his belt.

"Satoshi, Iwanko is—a stiff breeze could knock it out, bzzt! What are you planning?"

"Iwanko said it wanted to keep fighting." Ash shrugged, adjusting his cap. "So we're gonna fight 'til the end!"

"An admirable choice," Hala commended, returning his crabrawler, "if a foolish one. Resolve alone will not win this fight; distance yourself from Iwanko's feelings."

Ash bridled, just a little. "We'll be just fine," he insisted.

"Famous last words, bzzt," Rotom murmured—and then Hala sent out his stufful.

Ash swallowed, recalling what Rotom had said about stufful on the day they'd first met. One blow from those thick, corded arms would ruin Iwanko. They had to keep back and attack from a distance.

"Howl, and then use rock throw!" Ash urged, but Iwanko, weak as it was from battling Crabrawler, mustered only one boulder. Stufful caught the attack between its forepaws and ground it into dust, claws scraping along the stone and setting Ash's teeth on edge.

"Bulldoze!"

Iwanko dropped like a ninjask with an iron ball, and Stufful was upon it so fast Ash didn't have time to react. A brutal force palm finished Iwanko off; it felt like overkill, really. Ash sensed, more than saw, the moment the rockruff gave up, a dwindling consciousness reverberating dully in his chest.

"The challenger's rockruff is unable to battle," Professor Kukui said—a sombre, hollow announcement. Ash retrieved Iwanko by hand, draping it over his discarded backpack and thanking it with a gentle touch to its slack muzzle. "Kahuna Hala and his stufful are the victors."

"You put Iwanko in an impossible position by refusing to recall it," Hala said. He sounded… disappointed, almost. "And then you admitted defeat before the battle was over."

"Stufful was too fast. I couldn't do anything—"

"Iwanko couldn't have done anything. You could have tried. Your pokémon's strength is your own: they rely on you to make the judgements they can't call, to spot the paths to victory that they can't see. That's how you beat Crabrawler, not by looking through Iwanko's eyes. If you only ever fight on their level, you ignore the unique perspective being a trainer provides you with. And they are the ones punished for it."

Ash grimaced, silenced. He'd been—overconfident, still riding the high of beating Crabrawler, and he hadn't stopped to consider the significance of his opponent's credentials. Hala wasn't just another strong trainer, or even a gym leader—he was the Kahuna, and Tapu Koko had chosen him to watch over Melemele. To test challengers' mettle in its stead, to push them to their very limits and force them to grow—or lose.

"Alright, Pikachu," Ash said. "You're—"

Nyabby emerged from its poké ball, face twisted up into a snarl.

"... Nyabby? What's wrong?" The litten looked over its shoulder at him imploringly. Ash recognised its expression from when they'd battled Team Rocket; and, earlier, when it had tried to protect Stoutland from him.

"I think… Nyabby wants to fight, bzzt," Rotom observed. "It does seem to have a strong sense of justice… for a litten. Perhaps it wants to get revenge for Iwanko, bzzt?"

"Yeah? 'S that true, Nyabby?" Ash grinned. "Alright, if you say so!"

Something flickered across Hala's face. "As the challenger—and as you lost the last match—you can have the first move."

With the pace of the battle in his hands, Ash had the time to properly study Stufful: its broad, burly shoulders; its vast paws and heavy, blunted claws; its fur, longer and thicker than the stufful he recalled seeing in Professor Kukui's lab; and the purple orb hanging around its neck, half-buried in its substantial ruff.

It had no discernable weaknesses. And unlike with Crabrawler, Rotom's knowledge had offered no insight into a way to defeat it, either.

Stufful was strong. Fighting types often were, even without training—but Stufful was disciplined, and it was fast, and it could catch boulders like they were made of paper mâché.

In a battle of raw physical power alone, Stufful would likely win out every time. Ash didn't doubt for one second that if he let Nyabby go the way of Iwanko, trapped under those colossal paws, the match would be over in seconds. But in a contest of speed…

He'd never trained with Nyabby before, but he'd seen how agile, how quick-footed, the litten could be, even when injured and half-starved. If they could get close, hit hard, and get out of range before Stufful had time to counter, they stood a chance.

"Work up, Nyabby, 'n' then use fury swipes!"

"Block it, Stufful!"

Nyabby flashed red and darted towards Stufful, striking at it with nimble, brutal movements. Stufful tucked its head into its chest and shielded its face with its arms, weathering the assault; Nyabby's claws kept snagging in its fur, tufts coming away harmlessly and blunting the attacks. Rotom lit up.

"Oh," it said. "Satoshi, wait, that stufful's ability must be—"

"Strength."

Stufful's broad paw closed around Nyabby's muzzle and smashed it into the ground. It shoved its other paw against Nyabby's chest, light gathering there, and there was no way Nyabby would be able to get out of there in time—

"Fire spin, Nyabby!" Ash shouted. Nyabby parted its jaws and Stufful was engulfed in searing heat. It staggered backwards, trapped in the vortex, batting uselessly at the flames that licked up its limbs. Nyabby scrambled to its feet.

"Better," Hala praised, "but not good enough. Break free, Stufful! Rollout!"

Ash was certain that it was only through rigorous training that Stufful kept fighting. "Dodge it!" he said, but Nyabby braced itself against the attack and was knocked back, alighting nimbly a few feet away. "Now use fire fang!"

"Dual chop!"

The two moves clashed. Fire fang caught the first blow, and the second knocked Nyabby to the ground; strength flung the litten high into the sky, but Stufful was still dazed by fire spin's trapping effect, and a final fire spin finished it off, laying it out in the dirt.

"You did it! Two down, one to go, bzzt!" Rotom cheered, while Professor Kukui announced the results and Hala recalled his Stufful. Nyabby touched down neatly on the ground, pushing into Ash's open palm with a purr when he crouched and reached out to pet it. "If you keep this up, you might not even need Pikachu, bzzt!"

"You fought well," Kahuna Hala praised, "but there's a disconnect between you and your litten. It likes you well enough, but it doesn't fully trust your judgement."

Ash stared at his shoes. He knew his relationship with Nyabby was newer than his with Pikachu, or even with Iwanko, and that it was still—delicate, but— "Me 'n' Nyabby are doing just fine," he retorted. "We beat Stufful together, didn't we?"

"Because of its ability—and because its health was being sacrificed for power. You won't be as lucky with my final partner."

Hala's final partner was a Herculean hariyama—a little slimmer than most, but tall, and with huge, mighty limbs. Even one of its wide fingers dwarfed Nyabby, but the litten only arched its back, puffing itself up and hissing like a gas leak.

"This hariyama is in its prime," Hala explained. Hariyama lifted one hulking leg and brought it down with a terrible crash. "It was bred from my last ace, and was tutored by it, too. It's a prodigy—the pinnacle of its species."

"No need to worry, then," Ash muttered under his breath. "Nyabby, fire fang!"

"Fake out." Hariyama's broad palms slammed shut around Nyabby's head, sending a shuddering flinch down the litten's body. "Throw it!"

Nyabby landed on feather-light feet, unharmed but shaken, and spat out a column of fire—

"Stone edge!"

—which Hariyama smashed through relentlessly. Ash shouted to dodge, but Nyabby didn't move; it took the stone edge head-on, sprawling at Ash's feet.

"What a brutal attack," Rotom whispered, "and Nyabby didn't even try to move, bzzt!"

Ash clenched his hands into fists and held them there until his knuckles began to burn. "Nyabby! Are you alright?" Nyabby rose adamantly, though it was shaky, breathing laboured and uneven as though it had run a marathon.

"It's a fiery one, isn't it?" Hala observed. "Very defiant. But defiance means nothing if it puts you in avoidable situations."

Hala was right. Hariyama felt indomitable, towering over the fire-type like a great wall, and it wasn't pulling its punches.

"Fire spin!" Ash tried, but the attack licked harmlessly up Hariyama's bulk, and was extinguished by a slap from one of its massive hands.

"Is its ability thick fat—or is this just training, bzzt?" Rotom mused. Ash mumbled a quiet dunno, and Hala called for arm thrust, which—if Nyabby wouldn't outright dodge, then maybe—

"Run straight in, Nyabby! Keep low and use fury swipes!"

Flattened to the ground, Nyabby slipped beneath Hariyama, fitting between its splayed fingers and lunging to sink sharp claws into its chest. Hariyama reared back, taken by surprise—

"Force palm."

—and things shifted, suddenly and painfully. Hariyama caught Nyabby between those broad, powerful hands and squeezed, force palm building up slowly within that grip.

"Satoshi!" Rotom shouted, panicked. Nyabby started screaming, struggling futilely, and Ash—

Ash dropped his shoulders and steadied his breaths, fists unclenching like tulips blooming in the sun. He closed his eyes, let the tide drag him back to being six and seven and eight years old, muddied and bruise-kneed and wild, cornered by a boy supposed to be his friend, and tried to think of what he'd have wanted to hear back then, the words that would have made the fear less extant.

Life, his mom had always told him, was an uphill battle, but one's greatest weapon wasn't a stick or a sword or a mace—sometimes, the most valuable lesson to learn was when to stand your ground and when to run, and that running was not always the cowardly option. Sometimes, it was the only one that ensured survival.

"Stop! I give up!" Ash yelled, cutting through Nyabby's fast-waning yowls and the otherwise-oppressive silence, and everything ground to a halt. Hariyama's vice-like grip relaxed, retreating, and Nyabby staggered about, dazed, until Ash ran to scoop it up. "It's okay, Nyabby," he said, and the fire type murmured weakly. "You're okay. You did good! It's okay."

He'd pushed it too far. He'd gotten so caught up in—in victory, in the rush of the fight, that he'd forgotten that Nyabby had only just recovered from its injuries, that it was still so new to being his partner, and he had acted selfishly.

His pokémon mattered more than winning. Maybe there had been moments, in the past, when he hadn't fully believed that, but he knew better, now. There was always a next time. They would always come back stronger.

Across the pitch, Hala watched with an unreadable gaze. "Are you forfeiting the battle, or just this match?"

And Ash faltered. Because he hadn't—he hadn't known that continuing was an option. It never had been, before. Not really. "I can—I can keep going?" he asked, sounding a little dazed.

"Mm. But you must understand that you can't use your litten for the remainder of this battle. You surrendered, so it counts as a defeat."

Ash glanced down at Nyabby, trembling in his arms—then over at Pikachu, who was still bright-eyed and raring to go. He nodded, setting Nyabby down beside Iwanko. "I won't need to use Nyabby. Me 'n' Pikachu can win this one for sure!"

"Hah! I like your attitude, kid." There was some indiscernible light in Hala's eye as he spoke. "I'll admit, I'm interested to feel your pikachu's power for myself, see what Tapu Koko found so irresistible."

Ash grinned. He felt better about this matchup; Hariyama had beaten Nyabby pretty succinctly, but it had given away its fighting style, and he trusted his partner.

Having waited so patiently to battle, Pikachu was chomping at the bit to finally get involved; Ash could feel its enthusiasm as though it was his own.

"Electro ball!"

"Block it! Stone edge!"

Ash flung his arm out to the right. "Dodge with quick attack, Pikachu! Use thunderbolt!"

Pikachu blurred, escaping stone edge's range, and came back into sharp focus behind Hariyama; thunderbolt hit it head-on, but if it suffered any pain, Ash couldn't discern it from its unchanging expression. It was sturdy as a monolith, turning with slow deliberation to stare Pikachu down.

Kahuna Hala's pokémon all had that in common, Ash realised. They were unflappable, and tenacious, and perfectly content to wait, even in the middle of a battle. It reminded him of Sawyer's slaking, and the difficulties he'd faced fighting it: it was hard, keeping your momentum up, when your opponent could just stop.

… But victory wasn't impossible. There were ways of taking control.

"Quick attack, Pikachu! Get in close and run around and around and around!" Pikachu blurred again and darted in between Hariyama's feet, racing in tight circles. Hariyama braced itself, lowering its weight.

"Hah! You won't get anywhere with that strategy. Arm thrust!"

Ash clenched his jaw. Arm thrust punched dents in the ground; Pikachu dodged them all, but the craters began to slow it down. "Use iron tail and get out of there!"

"Pika!" Pikachu struck Hariyama right beneath its knee and shot out of reach. That seemed to hurt—a critical hit, Rotom observed gleefully—and though Hariyama didn't fall, though its face didn't change, it subtly shifted its weight to its other leg. Hala made a sound of discontent.

"Stone edge!"

Stone edge blindsided Pikachu, leaving it sprawled in the dirt; it stood quickly, but was clearly disconcerted. Ash thumbed his Z-ring. Hariyama was—a monster, unperturbed by the damage it had sustained, and Ash wasn't certain he could out-muscle it without relying on breakneck blitz.

Hariyama used stone edge again. Pikachu smashed the ground open with iron tail, blocking it—and then Hariyama was upon it, fist encased in ice.

"Thunderbolt!" Ice punch hit hard—but so did thunderbolt, and Ash saw Hariyama wince. "Iron tail! Aim for its leg again!"

This time, Hariyama fell, dropping to one knee. Across the field, Hala's face shifted from hardened concentration to something resembling leashed viciousness.

"Get ready, Pikachu," Ash said unthinkingly, feeling as though they were on the verge of a turning point. Pikachu landed at his feet with a determined snarl.

And then Hala said belly drum, and the sharp breath Professor Kukui sucked in was audible even from several metres away.

"If he's using belly drum now, even after Hariyama has taken all that damage, bzzt…"

Ash nodded. "Yeah," he said. "He's gonna finish it in one hit."

He'd never seen the fighting type Z-move before. It wasn't like the one he'd seen Kiawe use: instead of manifesting as a singular point of energy and expanding outwards, it took the form of many, many elements, all a burnt bronze shade and looking very much like clenched hands.

His gaze jumped about. Where there were gaps in an attack, there was a chance of survival. "Use quick attack and dodge!"

Pikachu blurred a third time, a yellow streak weaving in and out of those glowing, fist-like projectiles, and for a moment, Ash thought it might somehow escape unscathed—but then Pikachu wobbled over one of the craters made earlier in the fight, hitting the dirt unceremoniously. Ash's eyes roved, searching for a miracle—and found one in his partner.

"Electro ball!" Ash shouted, and Pikachu flung it—but the sphere split and branched outwards, forming a net that snagged the final projectile, slowing its momentum just enough that it pulsed and detonated before it hit.

"That's electroweb, bzzt! Satoshi, that was a new move!"

"Sure was, Rotom," Ash breathed, though his eyes were on Pikachu's unmoving form, elation tinged by the bitter sting of concern. Not for the battle (he knew Pikachu better than that), but because that had to have hurt, regardless of electroweb's cushioning. Professor Kukui waited a beat, then lifted his arm.

"The challenger's pikachu is—"

"Piii…" Sparks leaping across its fur, Pikachu clambered to its feet, badly bruised but clinging obstinately to consciousness. Kukui's announcement shrivelled in his throat; Hala blinked, stunned—then began to laugh, bringing his hands together in great, thunderous claps.

"First you dodge Kiawe's inferno overdrive at the festival, and now you counter my all-out pummelling with—what, quick attack and electroweb?" He shook his head. "Most trainers would have tried to withstand it, or—used their own Z-move."

"Well, yeah, maybe," Ash said, open palm meeting the pointed centre of his normalium-Z. "But I didn't, so now I can do this."

Hariyama couldn't have dodged even if it had tried. Breakneck blitz flung it far out of the perimeter of the battlefield, and it landed in a heap somewhere out in the grass behind Hala. Pikachu's legs gave out beneath it shortly afterwards, but Ash was waiting to catch it, tucking it where his shoulder met his neck.

Hala recalled his hariyama, watching Professor Kukui steal Ash's cap and ruffle the kid's hair affectionately. It wasn't that he was surprised, really, that Ash had emerged victorious, because the kid had taken on Tapu Koko and put up a decent fight, but it was still a little dizzying, almost, to be faced with all that raw power for himself.

"Congratulations," he boomed, making his way over. Ash blinked up at him, grinning giddily. "As promised, you've earned yourself a fightinium-Z. Your next stop is Akala, home of the water, fire, and grass trials, and of the next Kahuna, Olivia." And Ash's smile widened inexplicably, at that.

"Arigatō gozaimasu, Kahuna!" Ash said, just as he had when Hala had handed him his amulet, and he gathered Iwanko and Nyabby up in his arms, holding them close.

"Ah, Professor Kukui!" Professor Oak said, cheerily. His image—grainy, blue-tinted—flickered on-screen, before settling and coming into sharp focus. "What an unexpected call."

"Yeah, well—" Kukui shifted forwards, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's not an emergency, necessarily, 'n' it doesn't really have anything to do with work, so I didn't wanna—y'know—book an appointment."

"Oh? What can I do for you, then?"

Kukui glanced down at his hands, suddenly uncertain of how to word his concerns. How did one verbalise all that Ash was in a way that made sense?

"Nothing… pressing," he said, then blanched.

They sat in silence for a few moments, staring at one another. After a minute, Professor Oak reached off-camera and drew a steaming mug to his lips.

"There's something you want to ask," he surmised, after taking a sip, "but you're holding your tongue."

Kukui winced. "It's not—I mean—it's about Ash," he admitted, "and… about his past."

Professor Oak leaned back in his chair. "Ah," he said. "Fascinating boy, isn't he?"

There was that word again—fascinating, like an experiment, not a person. From Rotom, it was understandable: pokémon didn't necessarily understand the nuances of human speech. But Professor Oak? The man who had given Ash his pikachu and sent him off on his journey?

"He's—he sure is somethin'," Kukui acquiesced. "Strong, too. I saw—it said, in his files, that he's competed in—"

"Six major leagues, and the more unorthodox Orange Archipelago's league—which he won, if my memory serves me correctly."

"It… it does, yeah."

"Yes. But that's not a question, Professor."

"I guess it isn't." Kukui smiled, crookedly. "I wanted to ask—I mean—" There were so many things. Where did he begin? "... Is he alright?"

Professor Oak cocked his head. "Well, he's in one piece, isn't he? And he's still travelling, and he seems to be enjoying himself, and I haven't heard anything bad about Alola from him—"

"He speaks to you?"

"Not regularly, but… enough. Mostly about the pokémon I keep for him, and about how they're faring."

"Yeah, about that—how come he hasn't brought his other pokémon to Alola with him?"

"Well, considering I care for over sixty of them—"

"Guardians—"

"Including thirty tauros—"

"Guardians," Kukui breathed. "He's mentioned a few pokémon before, but never—never that many."

"Mm," Professor Oak hummed. "Pikachu may be the only pokémon guaranteed a permanent place at his side, but that doesn't mean he doesn't care deeply about the rest. He checks on them often."

And Kukui had noticed the care that Ash had, for not just his own pokémon, but for every pokémon, no matter what they were or where they came from. No matter whether they were a humble litten, or—a god.

"Y'know, he sort of reminds me of a kid I knew, when I was younger," Kukui mused. "They have the same look in their eyes, and the way Ash explains things, it's like…" he trailed off. Professor Oak was staring at him, an indiscernible twinkle in his eye and a small, unnerving smile spreading slowly across his face. "What?"

"Nothing," Professor Oak said. "But there are only two types of people in this world: people who aren't anything like Ash at all, and Ash Ketchum himself."

Kukui opened his mouth—then closed it again, a puzzled frown distorting his features. "... I'm not sure I understand the implication, Professor."

Professor Oak shook his head, though he was still smiling enigmatically. "No, I'm not sure you do, either. But do keep an eye on him. He'll be worth your while."

"Professor—" Kukui faltered, having more questions than he started with, and not a single answer to show for his confusion—but before he could gather his thoughts, Professor Oak had ended the video call, leaving him sitting in stunned silence, somehow feeling more rattled and uncertain than he had been before their conversation commenced.

He was certain, more than anything, that Professor Oak knew more than he was willing to spell out without shrouding the truth in mystery, but if there had been any advice, or any answers, in his cryptic wording, then Kukui was clueless. He hadn't even been able to ask about the footage Rotom had shown him, or about Ash's strange greninja, or about why a pokémon like Tapu Koko would take such an interest in him, or—

Before he could begin to spiral, his phone buzzed on his desk; Burnet's name lit up on the screen, and the tension bled from his shoulders.

"Hey," he said as he picked up, voice warming and softening.

"Hey," she replied, though she sounded… tense. Kukui sat up a little straighter. "I know this is out of the blue, but, uh—have you seen the news?"

Kukui swallowed. "No, why, what—has something happened? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, but the lab is—it's been destroyed."

He paused, for a moment, pulling the phone away from his ear so he could stare, blankly, at its screen. "... What?" he asked numbly, hitting the speaker button. Though he couldn't see her, Burnet's wince was audible in her voice when she next spoke.

"I can explain later, I promise, I just—can you do me a favour?"

"Of course," he assured, words rushing over themselves to get out. "Anything. Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine," she insisted, though her tone was fond. "But I have… a ward, and she—she needs a place to stay. Somewhere with someone who's… better at battling than I am. Do you think you could put her up? Just while I—sort out what's going on over here."

Kukui thought, then, about Ash. About how his wanderlust was palpable even when it wasn't being mentioned. About how his eyes had lit up when Kahuna Hala had told him his next stop was Akala, about how excited he'd been about the prospect of exploring the island, of going on an adventure, of really travelling. About how his absence—temporary, fleeting, he was certain, but an absence nonetheless—would leave a gaping space in Kukui's life—in his lab.

"Yeah, of course," he murmured. "I'll take her."

"Are you sure?" Burnet breathed, relief palpable. "She's the perfect kid, really, but she's… trouble."

Kukui didn't have time to unpack what that meant. "I'll be fine," he said, still thinking about Ash, and his pikachu, and Tapu Koko's burning eyes. "I've got pretty good at dealing with trouble."

A/N:

'Nyabby' (Litten) | Male, fire type.
Lonely nature. Attack is boosted; defence is decreased.
Ability: Blaze. When this pokémon's stamina is low, its fire-type attacks grow stronger.
Moves: Fire spin, fire fang, fury swipes, work up.

Pikachu | Male, electric type.
Hardy nature. This pokémon is well-rounded.
Ability: Static. Contact with this pokémon may result in paralysis.
Moves: Thunderbolt, quick attack, iron tail, electroweb, volt tackle.