He wasn't sure what "second chance" he'd been given.
He may have still been the best. He wasn't sure. It didn't seem to matter as much when he wasn't constantly being pursued, by rookies and veterans alike, all searching for a chance to steal that title. If he were still the best, the mountain kept away the challengers. If anyone did show up, Red could at least know that it was only the best of the best.
Time passed, but no one showed up. It was almost as if he'd been forgotten by the world. He stood alone at the top of the mountain. Surviving in the inhospitable terrain was enough of a battle to keep him busy. When there was a lull, he would train his Pokemon. Though it wasn't the most exciting of lifestyles, he was content with it.
"Hey!"
Though the voice carried over the howling wind, Red found himself wondering why the person bothered to speak. Even breathing sometimes threatened to freeze his lungs. His Pokemon understood wordless gestures, and besides them, there was no one on the mountain to speak with.
Wait, that was wrong. There was him, wasn't there? He couldn't say that he was interested in talking, however.
As a figure came into view, Red's hand shifted to the Pokeballs attached to his belt.
"Are you Red?"
It was almost like looking into a mirror. The details were different: different hair, different eyes, different clothes. Those things didn't matter. It was the same spirit, the same energy that confronted him from across the frozen plain.
"Hey!" Frustration was seeping into the voice's tone. "Aren't you going to answer?"
When Red opened his mouth to answer, he realized something: he'd lost his voice long ago. Well, in that case, it didn't really matter, did it? His Pikachu was hardly out of its Pokeball before it was already charging up a Thunderbolt.
"Son of a bitch!"
Red couldn't help smiling as the male scrambled to grab one of his own Pokeballs, stepping back before the lightning singed the snow where he once stood.
Perhaps the only person who could honestly challenge him was himself?