"Um, Professor Kukui? May I talk to you for a moment?"

He lowered his pen and pushed away from the desk so he could turn and face the door. Lillie was hovering in the door to the staff room, shoulders hunched and arms curled around Snowy like it was a stuffed toy. She'd been acting a little oddly these last two days – quieter than usual and awkward, like she wasn't entirely sure how to act. It made him wonder if she was really as comfortable with Ash and pokemon battling as she had previously claimed to be.

"Of course, Lillie. Come on in," he said, beckoning her over. "I didn't expect to see any of you after our catch up this morning. Did you all find Ash?"

"Yes. He was in the same place that Kiawe found him yesterday," she said as she glanced around. Since it was still fairly early in the afternoon, most of the teachers were with their classes, leaving the staff room empty aside from himself. Once she was confident they were alone, Lillie hurried in, and Kukui leaned over to pull out another teacher's chair for her to sit on. Not that he expected this to be a long discussion, but he and Hobbes were always hopeful that this would be the one time she opened up to them. And that would only happen if she was comfortable.

"So how is the training going?" he asked as she sat down, lowering Snowy to the floor at their feet. It sat down primly and began grooming its front paws.

"Rockruff used Rock Throw," she said. "But Ash was still going when we all left. He seemed to think there was more work to do."

Kukui had to smile, approving. "Well, a good pokemon trainer knows that just because you can do something once, that doesn't mean you really know it."

"You think so?"

"Of course," he said, and sat back in his chair, elbow propped on his desk. "Everything takes practice, Lillie. No one gets anything perfect the first time. Not even pokemon."

She nodded thoughtfully, eyes lowering to look at Snowy. Kukui gazed at her quietly for a few moments, but when she didn't say anything, he prompted, "So what did you want to talk to me about? Is it about the assignment?"

"I – I suppose that's it," she said slowly. "I've been thinking about – about what it means to be a pokemon trainer. And whether I'm really cut out for this school."

He paused, considering all possible interpretations of his next few words before deciding to change it to a question instead. "May I ask why?"

"Well, I… I don't really know. Everyone is trying to help me so much, and they're all so wonderful, but I sometimes wonder… I mean, how can I really learn everything there is to know about pokemon if Snowy's the only one I can touch?" she asked, voice rising slightly. "I watch Ash, and he – he's so natural with them. He's never scared, even when the others are, and he's always so confident. He and Pikachu… I almost can't imagine them not being together. I love Snowy so much, but… I don't… I don't know if we'll ever be able to be like that. He's such a good trainer, so… so I… I must be…"

Kukui hesitated again. There were two ways he could approach this, and neither felt right.

On the one hand, Lillie really had been making amazing progress lately. She was perfectly comfortable with her new vulpix, even when it got over excited and used Powder Snow. Instead of panicking like they'd expected, she would just laugh it off and hug Snowy all the tighter. She didn't jump away from large pokemon anymore, instead able to keep her stance until they were close enough to touch. He truly believed that it was only a matter of time before she overcame her fear of all pokemon and became just as good a pokemon trainer as Ash had said she'd be.

"She just needs to realise that not all pokemon are like the one that hurt her."

At his extended silence, Lillie was beginning to look more upset, so he made up his mind to go with option two. "You don't have to be like Ash to be a good trainer."

"What?"

"Lillie, it's enough that you love and respect pokemon," he said gently. "You're so passionate about learning everything there is to know about them. That's enough. It really is. There are a lot of people—even in the Pokemon Industry—who never have pokemon themselves. Who never even touch them, whether they can or not."

She looked up at him with wide eyes. "You think so?"

"Of course. Officer Jenny only recently caught her first pokemon with Gumshoos, remember. And Rockruff aside, when was the last time you saw me handle a pokemon?" he pointed out. "Honestly, too many people get caught up in the fun of pokemon to really understand them. That's why objective knowledge—from people who consider the facts and the science—is so important. It helps give the industry perspective."

She stared at him silently for a few seconds, before a relieved smile blossomed over her lips and she laughed out a breath. "You really think so? Oh, I'm so glad. I was really worried you didn't think I belonged in your class."

"What? Lillie, no, of course not!" he cried. "And I know the others students feel the same way. That's why they were so comfortable giving you Snowy's egg, and deciding that you should be its trainer. They would never have done that if they didn't feel you were an important member of our class."

"I suppose that's true," she said, bouncing her head and shoulders in a small grin. "Thank you, Professor."

"Of course. And really, Lillie, you shouldn't judge your abilities as a trainer against Ash – or any other trainer," he added. "Everyone has their own unique relationship with pokemon, and everyone is their own unique kind of trainer. No one is expecting you to suddenly want to become a Pokemon Master, or even train Snowy for battles. And even if that does become what you want to do, then you still don't have to be like Ash. To be honest, most battle trainers don't put as much… personal effort into training pokemon as Ash does."

"Oh, thank goodness," she said, touching a hand to her chest. "That really did make me a bit worried."

"You shouldn't," he said with a wry grin. "I don't think I've ever seen someone train pokemon like Ash."

"He's so intense when he's training!" she said, her eyes gaining a slightly starry glaze as she balled her hands into excited little fists. "He gets all pumped up, and when he told Rockruff to attack him, he looked so brave! Like some kind of superhero!"

Kukui almost chuckled, until the words actually parsed and he ended up furrowing his brow instead. "Attack him? What do you mean, he told Rockruff told to attack him?"

"That's how we saw Rockruff use its attack," she said. "Ash told it to use Rock Throw on him. He said—" She lowered her voice in what he supposed was an impression of Ash. "—'come at me with everything you've got!' And then Rockruff used Rock Throw, and Ash didn't even dodge at all! The rocks were so big, and came so fast, and he just—" She crossed her arms in front of her face. "—he just blocked them like that. It must have hurt a lot, but he was so happy Rockruff hit him! It was so incredible! I don't think I could do something like that."

Kukui gazed at her silently for a few seconds.

He'd thought that when Oak's essay had talked about pokemon attacking their trainer in friendly greeting, he actually meant showcasing an attack. Maybe a near-miss, or in the same way Pikachu had attacked the ground in front of those poles earlier in the week.

But no. This implied that Ash's pokemon really did physically attack him. With real, fully-powered attacks.

And now he was apparently telling wild pokemon to do the same.

Yes, it was for training, and Rockruff was as tame as a wild pokemon could be, but…

Ash was not his kid. He was not allowed to beat him around the head for being an idiot.

"No, Lillie," he said with a forced smile. "Even if you were a battle trainer, no one would expect you to do something like that."

Three days later, as he sat in the front yard with his feet up on the fence, he read five essays and listened to the mildly confusing sounds of Ash trying to teach his newest pokemon how to bite.

"You're gonna want to do this—rargnn—and you totally should. But you also need to go 'graaghn' and then bam! And really you need to focus more on that. The graaghn, not the bam. That'll happen on its own."

"Rrrruff!"

"Yeah! That's it!"

Kukui shook his head and went back to Sophocles' paper. He'd marked Lillie's paper first, and it set a pretty high bar, outlining a variety of accepted training methodologies, comparing them to Ash's more active style, and then providing a working definition for 'battle' training. Sophocles was trying to do something similar, but had gotten distracted.

To start with, he'd spent the first half of the first page very nearly whining about how they didn't have enough time to properly gather data and so couldn't be expected to give a comprehensive report. And then it veered off into Sophocles' preference for facts and figures. There was a statistical analysis on rockruffs as competitive battlers, and how they were inclined toward physical attacks because as a rock type they were all about aggression. He went on a quick tangent about how this could have negative impacts when fighting water-types, but was highly effective against fire-types. He argued that Rockruff would have been better served learning something more versatile to start with, like Tackle.

It was a solid paper. It hit some good points and made a tangible argument, backed with facts and figures.

It just had barely anything to do with the actual topic, as Kukui wrote in his comment. The assignment was to explore how training for battle was different than training for moves. Not discuss the move itself.

"No, no, you're putting too much into your teeth. When you Bite, you don't really need to bite that much. The jaws come from back here. So you gotta build them up. Go grrrmmm!"

"Grrrrck!"

"Yeah! Now deeper. Come on! Grrrrmm!"

"Grrrrrrck!"

Kukui rolled his eyes at the sounds and moved on. Lana's paper was far more focussed than Sophocles'. She talked about how when you trained to learn a move, you focussed completely on the pokemon and their point of focus. She believed it was a much more internal process. Battle training, she argued, was about being able to respond to things quickly and efficiently.

It wasn't a bad thesis, but unfortunately, she fell down a little in the actual explanation. She started comparing it to fishing, where you had to know when to reel and when to release. Again, it could have been a very good analogy if she'd tied it in with evidence from either her own experience or from watching Ash and Kiawe, but she kept it vague instead. If it had been an in-class essay, it probably would have scored pretty well. As it was, however, he sighed and marked her accordingly, sure she could have done better.

"Wh- ow! Ughh…!"

Kukui looked up and around, then set his papers and pen aside to climb over the fence and look down over the cliff. Ash was standing with his pokemon in front of a splintered piece of driftwood, one hand pressed to his eye while Rockruff and Pikachu stared at him worriedly.

"Ash…?" Kukui prompted. "You okay down there?"

"Yeah… I didn't guard when I should've," he said, and tilted his head back to look up through one eye. "We're not bein' too loud, right? We can go further up the beach if you want."

"It's fine." He glanced at Rockruff, very conscious of how Ash didn't seem inclined to move his hand but was even less likely to admit to being hurt in front of his pokemon. "Anything you need me to take a look at?"

"Nah, we're okay," he said, and went back to Rockruff. "Let's try it again."

"Pika pika?" Pikachu asked, and Ash flicked his free hand.

"I'm fine – just got a little grazed. Now come on, Rockruff, try again. But remember, it starts from the back of your throat."

Kukui hesitated, but slowly went back to his work with nothing more than a shake of his head. Not even Ash would be able to ignore something actually in his eye. He'd check it out after he finished the reports.

Mallow's paper was good, though it admitted straight-up that she didn't really see a big difference between training 'normally' and for battle. She did a pretty decent job of discussing it though, talking about her own training when compared to what Ash did. They both focussed on how their pokemon responded to others. But where Steenee was a 'helpful' pokemon, Ash's pokemon were 'aggressive'. She supposed that was probably the difference – in training a pokemon 'normally', you focussed on how a pokemon could make the best use of its own abilities, while a battler was more focussed on how to overcome someone else's strengths.

There was logic to it. Despite her ambivalence, she'd actually made a strong case, and used extensive practical evidence, with clearly presented examples. As a battle trainer himself, he couldn't help getting a little defensive, but the teacher in him had to admit that wasn't the point.

It wasn't a bad report. Well structured and sound. But the fact it had raised his hackles made him pause, drumming his pen against the side of his head as he reread it.

"Alright! Nice job! You almost got it that time!"

"Pii-ika!"

"Did you feel how big it was? Like there was so much more?"

"Ruff!"

"Think you can make it even bigger?"

"Rukk! Rockruff!"

Kukui lifted his head again, letting the sound of Ash's training distract him for a while. Surprisingly, he was pretty sure he knew what Ash was getting at this time. The true strength of Bite, much like Fire Fang and all of that move family, was not in the jaw itself. It was in a visualisation of power – extending the attack beyond its physical limitations and then bringing that extension into reality.

Most trainers would have focussed on the physical act first – the bite and yank. That ensured that even if their pokemon couldn't build up their power, they still had a good, strong attack that could be used in battle. Even a literal bite could be dangerous if done right, after all.

But while Ash wasn't using the words, it was relatively obvious that he was prompting Rockruff to explore the deeper power behind Bite. It was somewhat similar to the way that other trainers might work on evolving Bite into Crunch. It sacrificed the physical strength for the metaphysical.

He wondered if Ash knew that. Was he consciously making a short-term sacrifice for a long-term goal, or just… backward? He wondered how Ash would phrase it if Kukui asked him to explain his process.

Phrasing… Kukui quietly gasped and went back to Mallow's report. The flaw was not in her report structure, but in her word choice. With words like 'aggression' and 'normal', in the context she'd used them, she was being unintentionally confrontational, and that damaged her argument overall. He couldn't really mark her down for it, but it was something she should be careful with. While plenty of fully qualified researchers did the same thing, they were a lot more conscious about it, and it could be very dangerous to accidentally pick a fight in the academic community. You never came out unscathed.

But as he read back over the report, underlining the offending words, he felt his initial anger fade into mild amusement.

Because honestly, Ash's pokemon? Aggressive?

Yes, they could fight, and battle seemed to be the one thing even Rowlet actually got enthusiastic about. But at the same time, said owl spent most of its time as little more than a feathery doorstop, no matter what you did to it. Pikachu seemed to take an unhealthy amount of pride in being considered adorable, and had tolerated an awful lot of abuse for how little it seemed to reciprocate Togedemaru's affection. And Ash himself was probably the softest touch in a class recognised throughout the Pokemon School—itself a highly flexible and supportive environment—as being 'the nice kids'.

'Aggressive'.

He shook his head and set her report aside. If only he could be so critical of his colleagues' language choices – now that was something he could go to town on.

"Okay, let's take a break – you do too much of one thing and you're gonna go crazy," Ash's voice drifted up, a little closer than before. "Let's go for a run, okay? Rowlet, wake up, you're in on this too!"

"R-row?"

"We're racing! You can fly or run, and it doesn't matter what path you take. But you've gotta go into town, past the Pokemon Centre, into the market past Litten's friend, down to the beach and back here. No Quick Attack, Pikachu, and for you guys, remember to pace yourself. This is a race, not a sprint! Everyone ready?"

A chorus of pokemon voices answered him, and he called the start. Within seconds, Rowlet was flying up overhead, and it only took a few more before Rockruff came bolting up the path to the beach with Ash and Pikachu behind. Kukui watched quietly as they dashed past, pretty sure that Rockruff was pushing itself too hard. He made a note on his rubric to ask Ash about it later.

But in the meantime, he went back to the report he'd kind of been waiting for: Kiawe.

Despite their rivalry and its occasional escalations into actual conflict, Ash and Kiawe had become surprisingly close. Between the fact that they were the only two battlers in the class and how… enthusiastic they could both get on occasion, they'd found a friendship with each other that the others couldn't quite match. Ash seemed to appreciate Kiawe's steadying gruffness, while also responding well to his more… explosive moments, which was something the others had never really been able to do. It had really allowed Kiawe to relax and open up, even if he was still trying (and more frequently failing, these days) to be the 'grown up' of the class.

As a teacher, it reassured Kukui more than he'd expected. He'd always been a little worried about Kiawe – his responsibilities on the ranch and serious personality had always kept him a little distant from the other kids. It would have been fine, if he'd been able to dedicate himself to a career or study, but his only goal was to protect Akala. Which, again, could have been fine, if he only knew what that meant.

Personally, Kukui suspected that Kiawe had wanted to inherit his grandfather's title, but that was unlikely. Olivia was younger than Kukui himself, and a kahuna couldn't pass on their crown until their death. So that left Kiawe… drifting. He had no tangible goal, no personal connections beyond his family, no path to follow.

He was destined to burn out.

Now, at least, he was taking some joy in life. With Ash playing to both sides of his personality, he was finally able to be himself: a kid in a class, learning new skills and having new experiences. With that, there was a real chance he might be able to find something beyond his island. Something else he could dedicate all that passionate fire to.

"But, for the meantime, let's see what the Flamethrower has to say about the Thunderbolt," Kukui muttered to himself, and settled back to work.

The report hand back went well, most of the students accepting their results with grace, except for Sophocles. He waved his barely-passing grade at Ash like he was to blame.

"It's because you didn't take long enough! How was I supposed to get enough information to write anything good when you don't put in any time?"

Ash just laughed at him, which was probably a little harsh considering he hadn't needed to write anything himself. Mallow, however, jumped up and snatched the paper to read Kukui's comments, and then snorted.

"Don't blame Ash just because you can't answer a question when you're asked," she said, dropping the report on his head.

Kiawe, on the other hand, was surprisingly quiet. After class was over, and the others had filed out of the classroom, he approached Kukui's desk and lay the paper down. "Do I deserve this?"

Kukui looked at it again. Lillie had scored higher, but it was still better than anything Kiawe had gotten on a written assessment before. "Is there some reason why you wouldn't? Did someone else write it?"

"No, of course not," he said. "It just doesn't seem fair. I had a different assignment than everyone else."

"Yes, but you're more advanced in this area," he replied. "It wouldn't have been fair to give you the same question as them."

Kiawe frowned, and so Kukui sighed and sat back in his chair. "Alright then. Here and now, answer the question I gave them. How is training for battle different than move training?"

He shrugged. "When you train for a move, you train in something specific. Battle training is broader. You aren't just learning how to use a move, you're learning how to do lots of things at once."

"Correct. And how did Ash do that?"

"Because he wasn't just focussing on Rock Throw. He spent more time teaching Rockruff about how to dodge and build up its strength and stamina than he did actually practising the move."

"Exactly. And in that single sentence, you beat out your classmates in your ability to properly answer my question," he said. "They don't quite understand the difference between raising a pokemon and training it. Which is fine for the purpose of this report, since there are some trainers who would argue that it's just semantics. But for you, it would have been too basic a question and that would have damaged your ability to answer it effectively," he said, and then gestured to Kiawe's report. "This was a solid report. You have practical examples and explored them to reach a conclusion. You still need to work on the depth of your explanations and your structure, but your report compared battle styles, answered the question, and ultimately showed your understanding of the issue. You earned your grade."

"I… okay," he said, and then rubbed the nape of his neck. "I guess I'm just worried that I missed something, I mean… His training worked, right? Rockruff beat that magmar. But I don't really know why it worked."

Kukui slowly nodded. It was something he'd noticed in Kiawe's report, but it wasn't the flaw Kiawe seemed to think it was. "Then let's review. You started your report by quoting your grandfather."

"Yeah. He always used to say that I would find strength in battle not by how often I won, but the journey I took to get there," he said. "That's why every pokemon trainer is different, because we all have our different ways of doing things."

"Good. And in your travels, you've seen different training styles. Some people who focus on pure strength, some people who prioritise defence… what do you prioritise?"

Kiawe shrugged again. "I'm a fire-type specialist. The best way for fire-types to fight is by attacking. If you can't overwhelm your opponent, then you can at least cause a burn and get damage over time."

Keep burning until you run out of oxygen, Kukui thought absently. It had been a saying that was popular when he was travelling trainer, mocking fire-types. Not very nice, but like all stereotypes, there was some truth to it. You burned out that way.

"Alright," he said instead. "And what would you say Ash prioritises?"

Here, Kiawe seemed to falter. He hesitated, then stopped completely before looking up again. "My grandfather used to say it was most important to focus on your own strength, more than trying to beat others. And that's what Ash was doing – getting Rockruff to think about how it did things, and how it could improve in itself."

"That's a good start," he said. "One you didn't mention in your report, too. There are a lot of trainers that don't do that, so you could argue that was one thing that made him different to others. Anything else that you can think of?"

"I don't know. I mean… I thought his thing was speed. When he's with Pikachu, that's really what gives him the edge – he keeps moving so it's hard to keep track. And then Pikachu comes out of nowhere to just blow you away with all that power it has. But Rowlet's not really that fast, and he kind of had Rockruff taking its time to build up power."

"All good evidence for an argument against speed being his strategy; well done," he said. It was nothing he hadn't already said in his report, but Kukui could see Kiawe's problem. He always performed better when asked to verbally explain something – hopefully, by talking it out, Kiawe would be able to actually understand the conclusion he'd already reached in his report. Kukui gestured for him to continue. "So if you had to pick one, what is his specialty? Was there anything else Ash encouraged in Rockruff? Any habits or skills that really stuck out to you?"

"There was something he said…" Kiawe said slowly. "He said that you deal with Flame Thrower by dodging it. Not beating it back with power or blocking it, but dodging it. Like… like at one point, he said that the idea is to not get hit. And I mean, you can't train a pokemon to just dodge everything. It's too risky. They'll get hit eventually, right? They have to know how to take damage."

"Some trainers would argue otherwise," Kukui said, waving off the tangent. "It's a strategy called the 'glass cannon', where you have a lot of power but not much defence. It's common with fairy-types, a few poison-types, and pure electic-types." He could actually imagine Snowy being raised to be a glass cannon, come to think of it. Especially if it was evolved into a ninetails. Dependent, of course, on Lillie actually teaching it to battle. "But from what we've seen of Pikachu's battle-style, that's not what Ash does."

"No…" he agreed slowly. "It dodges a lot, but it can take a lot of hits when it has to. I think he was just talking about dodging as a starting point. Because he was always does something after. It's about… it's about…"

Kukui waited with a small smile on his face. They were definitely getting there.

"He dodges, and then he moves," Kiawe said. "He… reacts? Is that a speciality?"

He made a vague noise, because it was, but it wasn't everything. "You're describing the Counter strategy, where you encourage your opponent to attack you, and then turn that damage back on them. Or, perhaps, the Misdirection Strategy, which is often used by ghost- and fairy-type trainers. They take advantage of trickery and misdirection to frustrate their opponents, and often cause them to damage themselves, or simply expend a lot of effort for no pay off."

"Right. My grandfather always told me to watch out for them," he said, and then pulled back to think again. "It sounds kind of close. Because he… You think he's saying – I mean, doing one thing, and then he does – he gets them to do something else."

Kukui's nodded encouragingly. "Alright, now think about that. Why would you think he was doing something in particular? How can you assume anything about a battle?"

"Because it's a strategy," he said blankly, and Kukui nodded.

"Which is?"

"What's a strategy? It's a set of moves and actions that –"

"That you can respond to with your own strategy," he summarised, and then grinned. "Do you play chess, Kiawe?"

He balked, then frowned, obviously caught off-guard by the apparent non-sequitor. "Uh… no?"

"Bad analogy then, but bear with me," he said with a shrug. "You might know that each chess piece has a name, and they're only allowed to move in certain ways."

"Like… a pokemon can only use certain moves?" he asked, scrabbling to make the connection.

"Not my point, but yes. A knight can only move two spaces in one straight direction, followed by one space at a right angle to the original direction. A bishop can move as many spaces as it likes, but only on a diagonal. And so on. Chess players build up strategies based on how the pieces can move, and how they would respond to other people's strategies. A lot of success comes from reading your opponent, and guessing at the strategy they will play. So what happens, do you think, when you have someone who knows how to move his pieces and respond to threats, but no personal strategy?"

Kiawe frowned. "You'd win, right? If the game is about strategy –"

"Isn't pokemon battling all about strategy?" he replied, and Kiawe's brow furrowed deeper as his frustration rose.

"It's not the same. Pokemon are living beings, not chess pieces."

"Right again. But they do have defined abilities, defined moves, defined strategies. You expect a pokemon to behave a certain way according to their training," he reminded him. "So, let's apply the metaphor. In a chess game, you play strategy versus strategy, until you meet a player without a strategy, but very strong skills and a quick, responsive mind. And so you, in turn, are forced to react to what they do, without being able to see what they're planning because they're not planning anything. What happens?"

Kiawe stared at him blankly for a few seconds, before his eyes dropped to the ground and he took the time to really think it through. Kukui watched the hints of fury begin to etch into his face before he abruptly looked up, fists clenched and shoulders hunched. "That's his strategy? Winging it?"

Kukui had to push down on his urge to laugh, because he could imagine he probably would have been equally offended a few years ago. If that was what Ash was doing—if he was doing it on purpose—then every time it worked, it would be an insult to most of the professional battle circuit. Or a serious wake up call. One of the two.

"I'm not sure. I still haven't seen him battle enough to tell," he said instead. "But as we've just discussed, he doesn't seem to be training toward any obvious style. There doesn't seem to be a clear-cut strategy to anything he does. Instead, he trains his pokemon to be strong in themselves. He ensures they have basic skills down to the point that they become second-nature, and then he builds on their personal strengths while concentrating on their ability to respond to outside threats. It's not a style I recognise. But it does seem to be what Ash does."

"But – but that –!"

"And you outlined that in your report," he said, reaching out to tap his fist against Kiawe's forgotten paper. The kid faltered, eyes dropping down to stare at it blankly as he remembered why they were actually having this discussion in the first place. Kukui offered a mild grin in return. "You discussed it, and gave examples. Even though you didn't understand the result, you still documented it and analysed the information provided to you. That is what a good report does, Kiawe. You earned the grade I gave you."

He continued staring for a few seconds, anger visibly draining out of him. Eventually, he picked up his report, read a few lines of it, and then looked up at Kukui without any expression. "So the problem is more that... Ash confuses me, Professor."

It wasn't professional or appropriate, but Kukui found himself quietly nodding in empathetic agreement. But he did manage to stop himself from saying anything until he'd found a better response. "Honestly, that's pretty common in the scientific world. You can theorise all you like, but at the end of the day, you can't force your results to fit a hypothesis. Sometimes they don't make sense until you find more data." He leaned forward with what he hoped was a wise and knowing look. "It's a little like forming a friendship that way, isn't it?"

Kiawe faltered again, before his shoulders slumped and a tiny grin split his lips. In the end, he chuckled and stepped back from the desk. "I guess so. Thanks, Professor."

"No problem. And well done on your report. I'll see you tomorrow, alright?"

"Yeah. Bye."

Kukui watched him go, then sighed to himself and stood up so he could wander over to the balcony. The courtyard below was filled with leaving students, but he could pick out the rest of his class, lingering by the gate as they tended to do. It looked like Ash, Lana, and Mallow were going somewhere together. He smiled, hoping this meant Ash would be taking an afternoon off from training – he'd been working a little too hard since Rowlet's poisoning.

But any approval faded as his eyes flicked to Rotom, hovering over Ash's shoulder as always. Even with all its extra data, Rotom hadn't been able to make any more sense of Ash's training than the class. It insisted that it shouldn't have been effective – that Ash was too vague and didn't focus on anything long enough for his pokemon to properly grasp concepts and ideas. But the more Kukui learned, the more he wondered about that.

Ash trained his pokemon with such passion and fire, in ways that seemed so simple and basic but… weren't. It was more that he trained his pokemon to react and respond without getting caught up in plans or assumptions. Because when they weren't reacting, his pokemon moved quickly and hit hard, coming from places you didn't expect. You couldn't do that if you were too worried about what you'd be doing afterward. Maybe Ash knew what that would be, but he was always ready to change his mind if he needed to.

It wasn't misdirection. His pokemon didn't hide their strength, just like Ash didn't—or rather, didn't seem able to—lie. It was just that they wore it so comfortably, so constantly, that you didn't notice it. And when it finally hit you—the power of his pokemon's attacks, the strength Ash had as a trainer—it came on so fast and sudden that you almost didn't realise what had happened.

A thunderbolt indeed. But on a sunny day, with no cloud in sight.

Kukui drummed his fingers against the railing, bothered as only a scientist could be when presented with incongruous data. But like any good scientist, he wasn't about to give up. "I'll figure you out yet," he swore, pointing at his boarder. "I've got a Trace on you."

Down in the courtyard, Ash just laughed and started leading his friends away.