Her Rival

By Casual One

Disclaimer: Casual One does not own Pokemon.

XXX

The first time he heard of the King of Unova, it was accidental.

Isolated as his home was, he caught inklings of the outside world from the Pokemon that came to him. They would speak to him, regaling him with stories of a barbaric world. Violence was rampant. Cruelty was common. Brutality was encouraged.

They called it ruthless. A society built upon a master-and-servant relationship where Pokemon were forced into acts of depravity that N could only imagine.

It broke his heart.

Ghetsis told him, many times, that he would rise to a throne immemorial. His reign would break the cycle of hatred and his kingship would rebuild the world into an era where people and Pokemon would be peers. It would be a kingdom of peace. Ghetsis was certain that he would become a king that history would never forget.

It was a lofty goal, but it didn't sit well with him.

N didn't want to be a king. A king's authority could be abused. If a new society should be formed for the sake of equality between people and Pokemon then a king would be contradictory to what he believed in.

No, N didn't want to be king. It was against his ideals to be king.

But as Ghetsis appeared once more with brutalized Pokemon with injuries so dire that N was surprised they were not fatal, N couldn't help but consider his father's words with more care.

He didn't want to be king, but if being king was the only way to stop seeing his friends get hurt over and over again, then he would be king.

As he treated the wounds of a Timburr, he would first hear of another.

Thank you, the fighting-type's breathing relaxed as N took care of the worst of his wounds. Praise the King of Unova for people like you.

It first caught him by surprise. After all, his father said that there was no king. Not yet.

"Unova has a king?"

Yes, Timburr's eyes sparkled even when his body begged for rest. A strong king. Powerful.

Strong. Powerful.

Again, with those words. N was not surprised that a king would have to be powerful in such a society. For a tyrant to rule with an iron fist, they must be feared. He must be a monster amongst monsters.

"I was unaware that we had a king in Unova," the seventeen-year-old N wrapped Timburr's injured arm with trained ease.

The Pokemon winced but nodded. He is a new king.

That explained why other Pokemon never mentioned him.

"You seem to adore him."

It was the goal of my trainer and I to beat him in the Pokemon League, he explained. The Pokemon League. N heard of them before. One of the many sources of violence in the outside world. It was my dream. I wanted to be that strong too. That is why I was caught, to have a trainer like the King of Unova help me reach my dreams.

The pained look in the Pokemon's eyes spoke of haunted memories. N offered a sad smile. "What happened?"

I was nothing but a tool, Timburr sighed, I was too weak. My trainer was frustrated and...

"I understand," N cut him off. He did not want to bring back awful memories. It wasn't in his nature to see his friends suffer in front of him. Perhaps fonder memories would help. "Tell me more about this King of Unova."

Timburr brightened and quickly regaled him of the hottest topic happening in the outside world.

XXX

His glory days were behind him.

Spending his later years sharing his wisdom with those who came after, Mustard would be the first to declare that he had a life well-spent. He had achieved his dreams, married a beautiful woman, started a family, and met a variety of trainers. He had the honor of teaching some of them!

The people of this world were vast, numerous beyond comprehension. He had seen every personality fathomable. His reign was prosperous, the longest Galar had ever had. He was able to see so many warriors rise to the occasion. He had seen many fall.

He was there when Peony took the throne. He was there when Rose became chairman. He was there when Peony put down his crown to raise a family of his own and he was there when Leon inherited Galar's competitive spirit and did the impossible.

Amazing trainers rose to replace the old. It was good to see.

Generations passed him. The prime of his life was no more. Yeah, he was getting a bit old. He still taught and he embraced his role, but as days passed by, aches and exhaustion became familiar companions. His discipline had allowed him to retain some of his strength, but it wasn't going to last. There would come a day when he would put down his belt and allow his tired muscles to rest.

But today was not that day!

He stretched his arms as he waited for his numerous students to flood into the dojo. A few familiar faces. A few new ones. Students come and go. It was the nature of his trade. His wife was in charge of recruitment. He took care of the training.

It seemed like a standard day. He waited for all his students to change into the dojo's iconic yellow garb before starting with the basic routine for his students. He forced all of them on a run. Both trainer and Pokemon must be physically adept, after all. A standard affair. He would have joined them. He sometimes still did. Alas, his wife would kill him if he did it every time.

He sat down by the entrance of his dojo as he forced the poor lads to lap around the dojo alongside their Pokemon. It was easy. Simple. Some might say too simple, but simplicity has a complexity of its own.

Run laps around my dojo until you fall!

First-timers would look at him in confusion. Those who have had this exercise done before could only groan. Yes, yes, pout and whine all you want, but this test of endurance was necessary! They should thank him. He only did this every once in a while, usually when there was a large influx of new students.

It was basic, but it proved useful. He could see who needed more help and who did not. Many trainers only believed that the strength of their Pokemon mattered. In some schools of thought, it might be true. In his, the trainer must be just as competent. Anyone who disagreed with him was free to leave.

So they ran.

And ran.

And they would keep running until they had nothing left to give.

It was always interesting to see. Most of the time, it was the trainers who would fall first, their bodies not used to the same training that they forced their Pokemon. Sometimes, it would be the Pokemon. While uncommon, some Pokemon were more adept than others when it came to physical exertion. Regardless of who fell first, neither was allowed to leave until both the trainer and their Pokemon were down.

Some might consider this a waste of time for those who fell early, but he wanted to teach them perspective. He wanted to show the trainers the discipline and the strength of their Pokemon who were still trudging through the dirt and soil despite their trainer's weaknesses. He wanted to inspire the Pokemon who fell before their human with the will and effort their trainers put in.

It gave them a brand new point of view. It would inspire some and would force them to take his teachings more seriously.

Thud.

More fell.

Thud.

And more continued to fall.

He nodded as some packed up their things. It was the only thing done today so the ones who were done were allowed to leave

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

More continued to fall.

Thud.

Thud.

Within the first three hours, already half were down for the count. He chuckled at that. Rookie numbers! Kids these days weren't used to the roads they traveled. Back in his time, it would maybe take a full twelve hours before he began to sweat from something so simple as this.

He paused.

Did that make him sound old?

Urk.

He was the living embodiment of youth, thank you very much.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

A boy dropped to his knees, taking deep, gasping breaths. Blonde hair was drenched with sweat. That psychic fellow, Avery, he recalled. He remembered him well. The poor soul came into his dojo in a desperate attempt to grow stronger. Alas, his thin frame didn't help him in adapting to Mustard's methods, but the old man respected his tenacity. This was his best record yet.

He remembered when the boy fell five minutes into the run. Mustard was pretty sure that was the fastest anyone had ever failed to do this exercise.

Good for him. A solid four hours? Nicely done, young man.

More continued to fall.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

A girl fell, head up and her chest heaving, as her hands grasped for the nearest beverage. Her vibrant pink was hard to hide in the sweltering sun. For a woman with aspirations for the bigger things in life, it was impressive that she had gone this far. He didn't expect her to stick to his dojo the moment she realized that he wasn't the nice, old man that she thought he was, but her persistence made him gain some respect for her.

The first time she fell, she complained that she was close to death ten minutes in. An exaggeration, but it was amusing to watch.

Four and a half hours was a solid run for her. Despite her rather virulent personality, she was steadily bettering herself.

Thud.

Thud.

Six hours in and only a few were left. Usually most would fall here. On average, eight to ten hours would be the limit for most if not all of an average class. The Pokemon might be able to go for longer. It often depends.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Thud.

Ten hours in and Kubfu dropped to his knees. The little fighter was strong, tireless, and quite prodigious. As expected of the baby martial artist. He still had a lot to learn and that was made clear when the fighting-type groaned in exhaustion. The little pout on his face as he marched back to him was amusing as it was cute.

Usually, that would be it. Kubfu would often be the last one standing. When he glanced to look at who was left, he could only note his surprise when a single man and his Pokemon were all that remained. A rather youthful fellow and someone he hadn't recognized before. Must be a new student. His eyes raised at the way the man breathed. It was steady, consistent, and practiced.

A light sheen of sweat glossed over his skin, but despite all of that, he kept his eyes forward and his form didn't falter.

It had been quite some time since he had a student who had the endurance to reach this far. Far stronger and more muscular students attempted this routine only to fall far earlier than this man. His excellent technique certainly helped.

Something he always taught his students was that a perfect form was better than brute force. He probably didn't need to teach this particular student that.

Thud.

The man's Pokemon weren't so lucky, however. Grookey and Applin sat by the side as they watched their comrades continue to run. The two Pokemon looked in awe as Corvisquire and Pikachu followed close behind their trainer.

It was impressive, he would admit.

Though the bird was slowly struggling to keep up.

Thud.

Yep.

The Corvisquire put up a good fight but the lad had eventually run out of steam eleven hours in. It was a good effort. He was sure once he evolved into a Corviknight, he would fare much better. The icons of the flying taxi could fly for days if needed.

Mustard continued to stay in place and wait for the inevitable thud of the last two.

One hour passed.

...

Then another.

...

And then another.

Mustard opened his eyes to watch the sun slowly fall. It had been fourteen hours. The man was beginning to take deeper breaths, but the focus in his eyes was still blazing with fresh fervor. The Pikachu beside him was similar.

Fourteen hours.

Without food.

Without rest.

Without drink.

It was almost inhuman, their endurance. Grookey, Corvisquire, and Applin continued to watch and rest as their last two allies continued to trudge on. They looked ready to run again and indeed, after seeing their friends persevere, they decided to join in once more.

Normally he wouldn't allow this, but as they were the only ones left, he would let it pass. The sight of allies joining you once again seemed to give the man a second wind, somehow, and despite the darkness, the old man noted a wide grin on the man's face.

He was going to break all the records in his dojo, he knew. He was close.

Could he do it?

Another hour passed.

...

Then another.

...

Another.

Seventeen hours. It had gotten to the point that his wife came to visit him, confused as to what had taken him so long to return. He laughed. His only response was to point to the man that was still running.

His chest was laboring. His black hair was drenched in sweat. He was slowing down.

But his eyes were still focused.

And most importantly, he had just completed another lap around his dojo.

That damn Pikachu too had just done the same.

"They've been doing this all day?" Honey covered her mouth in shock. Her wife gave him a scorching glare and he tensed. What'd he do now? "And he hasn't eaten? He hasn't had a drink? What are you doing to your poor students?"

He raised his hands in surrender. "Most people would have given in by now."

To be able to move in this state, without sustenance to restore what he had lost, was impressive. What condition had the man and mouse been through to be able to do something like this? They had to have been through something similar to be able to accomplish something like this.

He wouldn't believe it, otherwise.

Still, his wife was right. Mustard was fascinated by how far he could go, but he also didn't want to kill his students. He wasn't a monster.

Some of his students would disagree. Heh.

Thud.

The Grookey fell again. Perfect. He hollered at the grass-type. The starter perked up and walked over when he noted the cups of water placed beside the old teacher. "I got a favor to ask you." He grinned and handed the grass-type some water. "Hand these back to your trainer and his Pokemon."

Grookey gave a salute before taking the cups and running to reach his fellow comrades-in-arms. The man's eyes widened at the sight before giving his Pokemon a grateful grin. The water seemed to have revitalized them somewhat. Uh oh. Honey looked at her husband in disapproval. "That's not what I meant."

She wanted to stop it altogether. "I know." The elderly man watched the man continue to run another lap. "But he is so close."

Twenty-four hours. That was the record to beat. It was his record. During the glory days when he was in his prime, it was his gold standard. It was impossible for him now. While he could still run laps around most students, he could no longer run as far and as long as he could back then.

"Mustard, dear."

"I'll watch over him, Honey. It's fine." Mustard could tell when someone was running on fumes. This man still had some left in him.

She crossed her arms but nodded. "Fine but if this boy starts vomiting blood, you're paying for all the damages and I want you on your knees apologizing to him."

"I promise," he laughed. The earnestness of his tone pierced her glare and she sighed. With one final look, she left them to his own devices.

Another hour passed.

And then another.

Thud.

Thud.

Applin and Corvisquire were out for the count again. The man and his Pikachu continued running.

Nineteen hours. The man was getting tired now, but sheer will seemed to keep him going. It was boggling. This duo must have been through something alright to be able to go this long.

They kept going.

Running.

Sheer, unrelenting, refined focus.

Mustard watched light peek out in the distance. The morning sun embraced them as they were coated in warm rays. He briefly wondered what went through their minds as they ran. What made them so determined? What motivated them to do something like this?

That state of mind must be quite something.

Thud.

Thud.

The man and mouse both fell at the same time. Drenched in sweat, their breaths labored, and their eyes lidded, it was a miracle that they didn't knock themselves out from exhaustion.

Twenty-two hours. Almost twenty-three. Very close. Something like that was unprecedented. No other student, past or present, had reached such a number. He could do a full twenty-four after preparing for it. They didn't have the same courtesy. He brought this up out of the blue and they did this well? Genuinely impressive.

Mustard walked up to them. His other Pokemon joined him, offering them glasses of water and snacks from the man's bag. Much deserved. Man and Pikachu gratefully took it and scarfed it down with little grace.

He cracked a smile. Behind him, the small Kubfu could only stare at the duo with surprise. The little fighter was rarely impressed. For the most part, his small fighting prodigy far surpassed a good portion of Mustard's students.

"What's your name?"

Red took a large gulp of water before lowering it and offering his hand. "Red."

Red, hm? He took the hand. He'd keep an eye on that one.

"You must be hungry." Probably sleepy as well. "Let's head back to the dojo. I'll feed you and your Pokemon and give you a place to rest."

He blinked. "Thank you."

"Thank my wife," he grinned. "She would kill me if I didn't give you this much."

Red cracked a smile. "Was that what I saw back there?"

So he was still alert enough to notice that. "Mhm." He sniffed him before making a face. "You probably should take a shower first. I don't mind it." It reminded him of the old times. "But the missus most certainly will and you know what they say, lad. A happy wife is a happy life."

The man rose and nodded. "You're not wrong."

"I am your newest sensei. Of course, I'm not wrong."

It was funny. He thought he had run out of exceptional students to teach. After teaching some amazing people like Kabu, Raihan, and Leon, he figured he had seen and met with the best the world could offer. This was it for him.

But perhaps his old bones have enough left for one more.

XXX

Kubfu's sensei once said training was like a mountain. A really tall mountain. There was a peak, a destination, but it was one that most would never be able to reach. He called it an impossible journey. To be the best, you must understand that sacrifices were needed and as you climbed up the mountain, you must give up more and more.

Eventually, each step would be heavy and the load would become unbearable. He would reach a point where he wouldn't be willing to sacrifice something to take the next step.

That was what his sensei, Mustard, said.

Those laps were a symbol of that journey. The steps would be light at first. When Pokemon and trainer begin to run, however, their steps would take more effort. It was a test. What were you willing to sacrifice to keep going?

It wasn't just physical. It was mental, spiritual. His sensei said that the hardest thing to master was discipline and technique.

The mind would say, "I've had enough. We're done. Our body cannot take much more."

The body would agree and scream, "I tire. Our muscles burn. Every breath is a struggle."

But the soul, the heart, must argue, "I can keep going."

Strength begets strength. Power earned was power deserved. Training gave way to might. The ache and sores were an omen. It was up to the soul to dictate if it was enough.

His sensei told him to never ignore the warnings of the body, but he must also master it, to know when he actually needed to stop or when he could take that extra step.

He thought he had mastered this lesson.

It turned out he was still a novice, a pupil in the lesson of power and sacrifice.

He had never scaled that mountain.

Kubfu sat with his sensei and his mate. Food was nutritious. It was sustenance. It helped soothe the spirit and recover the body. It was energy and he needed it to train. It was one of his favorite things.

On the other side of the table, the man who had beaten him sat down. The human rested well after performing the bathing rites. The rooms in the dojo were spartan. Some people didn't like it. Hmph. When one's body was worn to exhaustion and their mind tested by the teachings of his sensei, the rooms being bare would be the last thing in their mind.

The exercise from yesterday did a number on the man. While he seemed to be taking it in stride, Kubfu could tell from his slow and deliberate movements that his body ached.

He nodded in approval.

Soreness was good. Soreness meant improvement.

"Thank you for the food," the man, Red, smiled at his sensei's mate.

"Oh, dearie, do not mention a darn thing," Honey smiled. "Eat as much as you want. You can have seconds. Thirds. Even fourths if you're up for it!"

"I'll take you up on that," he laughed. The mouse beside him cheered.

"Honey's food is to die for," Mustard smirked. "It's one of the big reasons why I married her!"

The woman rolled her eyes. "There is a reason they say a man's heart is through their stomach."

Kubfu took a bite.

Yum.

"I don't believe we've met," the man watched Kubfu chow down. "I've never seen a Pokemon like you either."

The little fighter met the man's stare. He let out a small grumble before going back to his food.

"That's Kubfu," his sensei said. "The little sport's a student of mine."

Most humans seemed to find it weird to be a fellow student to a tiny bear martial artist. Red didn't seem to mind. He gave Kubfu a small nod. "I look forward to working with you."

Kubfu paused mid-chew before nodding as well.

"He usually does the best in that exercise," Mustard said. "Usually. Twenty-two hours is nothing to scoff at. Never seen anyone run like that."

Other than his sensei, Kubfu knew.

"I'm used to traveling long distances," Red said.

"A foreigner then." Mustard looked at him. "I was much the same when I was young. I went around the globe. I find it a very important experience for any trainer interested in traveling." Kubfu had only known the dojo his entire life. The training grounds were his home. Perhaps one day he would leave Galar. He didn't know. His sensei always said that his destiny was his own to decide. Maybe he would leave one day. "Still, not even an ordinary traveler could keep going for twenty-two hours with little food, water, and rest."

"I suppose I've done something similar before," he said. The way he said that held something more. Kubfu had no idea what.

"Ah, so you've had physical conditioning then."

"I suppose you can say that."

Mustard chuckled. "You should have told me."

"It's been a while since I did a trek like that," he said, "and you probably wouldn't have believed me."

Mustard paused. "True."

"I wanted to do it anyway," Red said. "Got to see my limits so I know where to improve."

"And that's true too." He grinned. Kubfu agreed. His fellow student was smart. Or was it wise? Kubfu shrugged. He didn't care.

They talked some more while Kubfu listened. He was content to focus on his food. When Red asked for seconds, he did too. When he requested thirds, he did too. On their fourth and fifth plate, he couldn't help but match it with his own. Honey looked pleased with their appetite.

"You boys certainly are healthy!"

Mustard sighed. "If only I was younger."

Kubfu took another bite.

Yum.

XXX

As more and more Pokemon came to him, the more he would hear of this king.

He would never say no to a fight.

A genius combatant. A force of nature.

Uncompromising. Undeniable.

Strong but compassionate.

He was a walking contradiction. He loved to fight. He traveled the world and fought for the sake of victory. Battle-hungry. Dominant. Violent. It was everything he assumed this king would be. A bloodthirsty tyrant.

But he was also kind. He made friends with those who'd met him. He encouraged others. He inspired thousands. The Pokemon N asked did not fear him. They spoke his name with respect that the seventeen-year-old could not comprehend. It was especially prominent to the Pokemon who had trainers.

He was powerful, undeniably so. The reason for his ascension was because of this power. There was no denying that. He became king by defeating others.

But he was beloved by people and Pokemon.

Why?

Why did they love him?

Why did they love someone who fought and battled his way to the top? There had to be more to this.

"Are you okay, N?" Soft, light pink hair met his sight. Anthea walked up to him in concern. Concordia was right behind her, the blonde carrying a wounded Tepig in her hands.

He smiled at his sisters. "I am fine. I was just thinking."

"That sounds just like you," Anthea sat next to the boy. They were in one of the many rooms in the manor. "What are you thinking about today?"

"The outside world," N said and both women frowned.

"There isn't much to think about," Concordia said, "Father is protecting us from the outside world. It is best to ignore it altogether."

"They have a king," N continued and he watched both blink in surprise.

"Father said they have no king in Unova," Concordia's brows scrunched in confusion.

N nodded. Normally he would have taken his father's words for granted, but evidence stated otherwise. "Our friends say there is a king."

Concordia looked troubled at the thought, but Anthea seemed curious. "Is he a nice king?"

A good question.

He did not answer right away. He wasn't completely sure, himself. Some Pokemon called him battle-hungry. Some called him merciful and kind. His mind could not connect both together.

Forcing Pokemon to fight should never be considered a good thing. The unnecessary injuries sickened him deeply.

However, he could not throw away his friends' words about this man's virtues.

At the end of the day, he could only say one thing.

"I don't know."

XXX

Kubfu continued training with the rest of the students.

Days passed. He continued his climb for power. His fellow students followed. It was monotone. Most of the time, training wasn't exciting. It wasn't supposed to be. If it was, more people would do it.

Training was a test of diligence. Consistency was key.

Battling was his sensei's philosophy. Fighting others meant honing the body and mind. While Pokemon battles were what was advertised and it was what most people did, Mustard also trained those who were willing in other forms of combat.

Smack!

His sensei blocked a punch from Red. Both garbed in bright yellow, they danced an honorable, martial rhythm. Kubfu was performing his katas in the distance, watching the two test one another inside the dojo.

Outside on the wide open plains, the other students fought and explored the isle. Combat was the standard and Mustard's island encouraged it in all forms. Red's Pokemon could be seen outside taking turns facing Pikachu. It was clear to Kubfu that was the leader. How a small rodent like him could be leadership material, he didn't know, but he wouldn't question it.

If he was strong, that was enough.

Smack! Thud.

Red was pushed back from his sensei's onslaught. A furious combination of fists and kicks rained down upon the youth. Age did little to defang the old warrior. Like an avenging rapier, dozens of strikes met skin.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

Kubfu expected Red to be a novice and compared to Mustard, he was, but both the fighting-type and the old man were surprised by the competency of his moves. The sureness of his strikes almost caught Mustard off guard a few times.

His form was free and flowing. It didn't look like any style of combat Kubfu had seen before. It was ruthless, efficient, and unpredictable. It felt like a makeshift of several other styles and Kubfu couldn't help but stare as Red continuously adapted to Mustard's movements. As the battle continued, every punch Red threw grew more accurate.

It was a unique way to fight. There was no grace, only practicality. A surging barrage of hits struck Red once more.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

Red took it all in stride.

SMACK!

With one smooth movement, he struck the old man with a devastating punch. Youthful power combined with an analytical mind discovered a moment of weakness in his sensei's form.

A few dozen years ago Mustard would have been able to react to that. It was only his muscle memory that allowed the old man to gracefully land from the strike.

Red rolled his shoulders as he let out a small breath. Mustard preferred what Kubfu liked to call 'death from a thousand cuts'. One of Mustard's strikes didn't hurt. But two? Three? Ten? Twenty? Thirty? It would build up.

Meanwhile, Red's style was uniquely his own. It wanted to end the fight as fast and efficiently as possible. It was quite fascinating. How did he learn it?

His sensei thought the same. Mustard began to stretch before melting into another stance. "I didn't know you could fight."

"I rarely do," Red said. That surprised Kubfu. "It's something I picked up over time."

"What life have you lived to make you learn to fight like that?"

Red smiled. "A trainer should always know how to defend themselves."

"Yes," Mustard agreed and surged forward for another barrage, "but that would usually be the Pokemon who do all the work."

Red's instincts beckoned him and began to block the onslaught. "Usually."

Mustard dipped low from a punch before falling to the ground. With an outstretched leg, he swept Red off his feat. The man's eyes widened before his body rolled to avoid a kick.

It was an impressive recovery. Unfortunately, Mustard had the advantage and with a flourish of kicks and punches, sent the young man flying. His sensei was breathing heavily. It had been a long time since he had to exert this much effort into a fight. The old man lowered his stance before grabbing a towel and wiping his head.

"You're full of surprises, Red."

The man in question rubbed his shoulders as he winced at the bruises that littered his body. "You're the one who challenged me."

"I expected a no," his sensei gave him a grin, "Most people say no. They are usually here for Pokemon battles."

Red laughed. He wiped the sweat off his brow. "I won't say no to a fight."

"I can see that," he said with a huff. "No grace at all. Never seen anything like it."

"I guess you can call me a dirty fighter," Red shrugged. "I've never been trained."

Mustard hummed. "Well, thank you for satisfying my little request. Why don't we help your Pokemon next, eh?"

"That is what I am here for."

Mustard laughed. Kubfu watched them depart. He stopped his katas to follow them. Red's technique was different from what he was used to, but Kubfu couldn't help but consider it.

It was rough. Not refined. But with a bit of work, it might become something useful.

Fear the Pokemon who practiced one attack a thousand times.

Kubfu looked at his paws before clenching them. He released a punch. It was tiny. It did nothing. No strength behind it. For now. Punch enough times and what little strength he had could become something more.

Become efficient like him. Take out the enemy as fast as possible. One hit, one blow.

A wicked blow.

Kubfu clenched his fists.

XXX

Time passed. He met more Pokemon. He would treat them. He would bond with them and his father would remind him of his duties.

"You must set things right," Ghetsis walked with him down the large abode he called home. A mixture of a manor and a castle, its aesthetic was a constant reminder of N's destiny. "The time is almost upon us. You will become king and with your leadership, we will bring forth a new age for people and Pokemon."

N nodded wordlessly.

"Remember the words of your Pokemon," his father continued, "Remember their pain. Remember their suffering. That is what we're fighting. We're fighting for them."

"We do not need to fight."

"Our enemies won't back down willingly."

"We can talk to them."

Ghetsis looked exasperated at his son's words. This was something they had always differed in. Their path to their shared goals was dissimilar. "N, the world is not so black and white. No matter how righteous our cause is, there will always be those that oppose it."

"Then we convince their leader," N looked at his father in the eyes, "we can convince their king."

The look on his father's face had a mixture of surprise, disdain, and resentment. He roughly took the teen's arms into a firm grip and dragged him closer. "Where did you hear about that?"

"My friends told me," N replied. He ignored the stinging pain in his wrist. "Why should I be king when they already have one? Isn't it better to talk to one that already exists? I heard he is kind. There is no need for violence or bloodshed. If we can just talk to hi-"

"There is no king in Unova." The vileness in his father's words caught him by surprise. "He is just a pretender, a fake. It was a title given without thought or care. There is only one king, N, and it's you. Don't lessen yourself by speaking to a fake."

"But my friends..."

"Your friends can be wrong, N."

You can be wrong too.

"As you say," N muttered. He didn't have the heart to say it to his father.

Ghetsis took a deep breath and let go. N gingerly touched his reddened wrist. "I apologize. That was irrational of me." He smiled at his son. The forced calm did little to hide the bitterness on his face. "I will have someone treat that."

"It's okay," N took a deep breath. "Concordia and Anthea can do it."

"If you're sure," Ghetsis nodded and without another word, he was left to his own devices.

XXX

He began following the man around.

Understanding his movements was key to learning how to become strong. Every day, Red would arrive to study under his sensei. He didn't miss a single lesson. Kubfu respected him for that. He was here to improve so improve he did.

His Pokemon followed his example. Grookey grew from the constant exposure to conflict. Thwackey thrived from the dojo's teachings. Ashamed of failing to match his trainer's endurance, Corvisquire trained harder. Seeing his fellow grass-type grow in power, Applin applied more to his studies.

It was an admirable ensemble.

"Morning, Kubfu."

He nodded to the human. It was a good morning, indeed. The weather was great for training. Cool, but not too cold.

He would sometimes bring other Pokemon to take advantage of Mustard's training. Every day, it would be someone different. It was entertaining to see who would appear to take advantage of this opportunity.

Red's Typhlosion released an angry, boastful roar. The mane of raging fire on his neck exploded outward in a geyser of immense heat.

Concentrated heat coalesced in the Pokemon. Pikachu charged forward. Eruption exploded outward and Kubfu took a step back as an overflowing beam of fire shot like a cannon straight at the electric mouse.

VOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

SCHINK!

Volcanic firepower was cut through by sharpened steel. Iron Tail slammed down. Typhlosion raged against the force of nature. The mane on his neck grew and waves of heat radiated off of the rampaging warrior.

Kubfu slammed his fists into a nearby stump, watching the two duel.

Overwhelming power fought against precise strikes.

Smack!

Kubfu's fists slammed into the wood again.

He wanted his punches to be just like that Eruption.

Extremely powerful.

Smack!

His fists struck wood again.

But at the same time, maybe Pikachu's approach was also good. Precise.

Smack!

If he knew where to strike, a vital weak spot in the opponent, one that he could exploit, he could break those tougher than him in an instant.

Smack!

But what was the point of precise strikes without power?

Smack!

Be efficient. Like that man.

Smack!

What if he combined power with precision? Could it work?

Smack!

It probably would take a lot of effort.

Smack!

But it might be worth it.

Smack!

It would be a step in his training. Just another obstacle in the mountain that he must climb to become the best. His fists slammed into the wood.

SMACK!

Crack!

He paused when he noticed the stump split in two.

XXX

More days passed. Kubfu continued to train, following his fellow student out into the wild. It had become a sort of normal routine for them. Red would set out on another expedition in the Isle of Armor and he would follow.

Red would challenge any Dojo student that came his way. He would watch.

It was a steady growth. Reliable. People would often look for a quick trick to getting stronger, but the secret to true strength, real power, was the consistent effort. He found a tree to practice his punches on and began punching it. He glanced and noted how Red's Pokemon scavenged the land.

Corvisquire and Thwackey collected sticks for a fire. Applin searched for edible berries and fruits up in the trees. Pikachu took what they collected and helped set up their small camp. A Torkoal set it ablaze. Feraligatr rumbled nearby, carrying large stones to become makeshift chairs.

Kubfu allowed them to do as they pleased only for his fists to stop as the smell of food began to waft from the encampment. He took a quick look and noticed Red preparing dinner for himself and his Pokemon.

It smelled delicious.

He lowered his fists and wandered over to the man.

"Kubfu," Red smiled at the sight of the little cub. He had a stew with him. He could see the rest of the man's Pokemon lounging about, enjoying the meals given to them. The human took a bowl and handed it to the cub. "You hungry?"

He nodded.

Food was good. Food was energy. Energy was the currency of strength.

Kubfu took the food gratefully and began chowing down. He perked up.

Yum.

"You've been hard at work." Red took a bite of his stew. "Your punches are getting deadlier by the day."

Kubfu paused. So he noticed. Kubfu let out a small roar. He puffed his chest with pride. His power wasn't spontaneous, but he could feel himself getting better. The human wasn't lying.

He chuckled before rubbing Kubfu's head. "Keep it up."

Naturally.

They ate in comfortable silence. The cub enjoyed it. As he was about to finish his meal, his ears perked up at the sound of groaning and heavy footsteps.

"So hungry..."

"I have food, Klara."

"Disgusting food, Avery." Kubfu looked behind him to see a familiar duo near them. He saw them just in time to note Avery's offended expression. She perked up when her nose picked up Red's cooking. "Do you smell that?"

"No."

"You need to get your nose checked," Klara licked her lips. "I smell food! Good food, at that!"

"They do say your sense of smell gets enhanced when you're hungry." Avery adjusted his glasses. "And my food is good!"

"For your palette maybe," she walked forward a little bit faster, "but someone like me deserves the finer things in life!"

"There's no high-end restaurant here. Get used to it." Avery rolled his eyes. "This is the life of a Master Dojo student." He seemed to wallow at the thought.

She sighed, ignoring the man. Klara walked towards them. While they had never really interacted outside of passing glances, Kubfu did respect them for showing up to Mustard's lessons. The woman's eyes widened at the sight of the little fighter before focusing her attention on the cook.

She gave the man her prettiest smile. "Hello!"

Red offered his own. "Hey."

She began to open her mouth.

Grumble.

Only for her voice to fail. There was silence. Avery reached them, only to tilt his head when no one spoke. Her face paled. Kubfu gave the woman a long look. Her stomach told her to eat. Training on an empty stomach was stupid. No energy.

Red cracked a smile and offered her a bowl. The gesture was obvious. "Here."

She blushed and took it with a bow. "Thank you."

"It's no problem." He grabbed another bowl and looked at Avery. "Want one?"

The psychic bit his lip, staring at his granola bar before shifting back to the stew. He sighed, pocketing his snack and accepting it. "Much appreciated."

Klara moaned as she took a bite. Avery let out a few huffs before gently putting it in his mouth. His eyes widened in delight.

"Sho good," Klara mumbled. Her spoon automatically went in for another. Were those tears? "How long has it been since I had food like this?"

Avery nodded. "More than acceptable. My compliments."

"Compliment received," Red laughed.

"I've seen you around," Avery took another bite. "You're the guy that fought our sensei, right? With fists and stuff?"

"That would be me."

"I heard you almost had that dastard," Klara pouted. Kubfu shrugged. Red was impressive for someone who didn't specialize in martial arts. His sensei dedicated his entire life to combat of all forms be it through himself or his Pokemon. Red's talent lay in the training and guiding of Pokemon. It didn't surprise the cub that he lost.

It did surprise him that he managed so well, however.

"He was simply the better fighter," Red said, amused. "Do you not like him?"

Avery grinned. It was forced. "I am sure once all of this is over we will look at this with fond memories." He slumped, almost defeated. "His training is harsh though. So unsophisticated. So brutal."

"Don't let that grandfatherly smile fool you." Klara crossed her arms. "He's a menace!"

"But his methods work," Red's point was made with grudging silence. "Surrounding yourself with obstacles, forcing you to fight, train, and survive constantly makes you a better trainer."

A trainer excelled when forced into conflict. A trainer learned when told to use what the environment had to offer. A trainer grew when applying the training rammed into them on the daily. Kubfu couldn't argue with that. Nope. It made sense in his head.

"I guess." Klara didn't want to admit it.

Avery, however, gave him a nod. Reluctant, very reluctant, but a nod nonetheless. "I do feel more confident, I suppose."

"You all joined his dojo for a reason," Red took another bite. "For one reason or another, you traveled to the isle. You could give up any time you want. Mustard doesn't imprison you here. He lets anyone leave yet you continue to stay."

Klara looked away. Avery was silent.

"I live with a family of psychics," Avery muttered. With the way his face stretched, it took him a great deal of effort to say it, "But I'm a talentless freak who only knows how to levitate people while my siblings and parents can do so much more." He took another bite. "I'm weak. I wanted to be better. I thought the dojo was my salvation."

"And did you get better?"

He thought for a moment. He sighed. Kubfu noted the way his lips perked up though. "I guess I did. I've been winning more lately."

"Your progress is proof that it is paying off." Red smiled at him. For once, Avery looked bashful at the look. Kubfu had always seen him as a haughty, arrogant kid. Perhaps there was more to him than he thought.

"I wanted to be a pop star."

"Of course you do," Avery sighed.

She glared at him. "I thought I was pretty good." Klara looked down at her bowl. "My debut album didn't sell well though." She laughed. It wasn't a pretty sound. "Eight. I still remember it. What a pitiful number. I was so confident I could at least sell a dozen." She perked up. "So I thought maybe people would pay attention to me if I was more popular. Everyone would know my name if I were super strong like Leon!"

"So you went here."

Klara nodded. "It sounded like a good deal to me. Galar's most decorated champion teaches here! I bet he has a bunch of secrets to growing stronger quickly and easily!"

Red cracked a smile. "You thought wrong."

That seemed to break her. She wailed. "He's a monster. A monster!"

"He does not go easy on anyone," he laughed, "but a stern but effective teacher is better than a kind but lazy one, no?"

"Why can't he be kind and effective?" She groaned. Sometimes Kubfu could understand her. That would be nice.

"Sometimes we must work with what is given," he said. "Mustard may not be perfect, but he is the real deal. You will find no better teacher than him."

Klara grumbled. "I know."

Despite her misgivings, the woman seemed to relax at that. Kubfu blinked when Red turned to him.

"And how about you?" Red's question caused him to pause. He wanted to get stronger, obviously. His sensei promised him that he would grow up to become one of the strongest in the world. He stared at his fists. Training had been his entire life. His existence was to climb to the top. Red seemed to sense that because he chuckled and rubbed the cub's head affectionately. "You'll get there, I'm sure of it."

The group talked a bit more before Red offered to help them train for the day. Kubfu was always up for this man's tutelage. The cub blinked when Avery, who was sometimes too arrogant for his good, and Klara, who would oftentimes find an excuse to avoid it, seemed open to the idea as well.

They spent their time learning, refining, and innovating. The valuable wisdom he expended gave Kubfu even more reason to continue to grow stronger.

XXX

Ghetsis wouldn't introduce any more Pokemon to their home for some time afterward. His sisters were curious as to why. He had an inkling as to the reason. Pokemon were his only way to learn more about the outside world. They were friends he treasured and the idea of not being able to help more of them was a thought he couldn't accept.

His father did not like the thought of this king. He despised it, in fact. N could see it from the way his face twisted at the mere mention of him. He hated him. He did not want N to learn more about this pretender king so he was not allowed to see any more Pokemon.

It was a temporary solution. N knew that eventually, he would be allowed to see more of his friends again.

It didn't change the fact that it left a distasteful feeling.

He was glad that his remaining companions were not taken away from him at least.

The King of Unova would listen, Timburr said.

"How would you know?"

Because he listens to his Pokemon, Timburr stated with absolute certainty. You're a good person. You listen to us. You care for us. He won't ignore you.

"Your faith in him is tireless," N said. While he could believe in his friend's words, he must also acknowledge that the Pokemon might have some form of hero worship. He had too much trust in this king. It was borderline idealistic. N had to be realistic. "My father won't let me meet him regardless."

He called you king, Timburr said. A king has authority.

"I am no king," N shook his head, "not yet."

A prince then, he said. I've never heard of a prince locked in a castle before. It's normally the princess.

Ha! N smiled. "They say there's a first for everything."

Timburr crossed his arms. Like escape.

"I believe in Ghetsis's ideals," N said. "Pokemon oppression should be stopped. I cannot discard something I firmly believe in." He laughed. It was dry, lacking humor. "I am sorry."

The fighting-type huffed. Running away doesn't mean discarding your beliefs.

"I know," N acknowledged, "but the only way for my dreams to be realized is with my father's help." He gave an apologetic smile. To stop Pokemon oppression without the resources of his father would be almost impossible. If he was going to change the world, he would need the organization Ghetsis had built. There was no other way.

For all his faults, Ghetsis believed in N. He would not disappoint him.

The Pokemon stared long and hard at the teen. Even without words, N could feel his disappointment. He was sorry. If only things were different, maybe he would have followed his words. There was a small part of him that wanted to leave his home, a childlike part of him that urged him to escape, to experience the world not by word of mouth, but with his very own eyes.

He crushed that part of him with an iron vice. His resolve would not falter here.

There was one truth. The world must change. If he had to be the one to change it, so be it.

XXX

Weeks would fly by. Kubfu did his best to grow stronger.

Red's Pokemon had become familiar faces throughout his climb to power. While the constant presence of Corvisquire, Applin, Thwackey, and Pikachu remained a familiar sight, he had met many others who cycled through Red's seemingly bountiful roster. Every day, Kubfu would be curious about who the man would bring with him.

He had seen the dominating force of his Charizard and Garchomp. He took inspiration from his Infernape and Primeape. He would exchange words with Blastoise and Sceptile. Meganium and Butterfree constantly mothered him for no reason. He would often break bread with Muk and Snorlax. Serperior and Leavanny would always visit him, knitting tapestries of leaves and grass for him to wear. Meditating with Crawdaunt and Noctowl became a frequent occurrence.

SMACK!

Kubfu's fists rammed into a tree. Every punch would dent the wood. It was a far cry from before when it would take over a dozen punches to even show visible progress. This is proof of his discipline. This is his truth.

He raised his fists once more.

SMACK!

SMACK!

SMACK!

He felt someone behind him.

Thud.

He turned his head to see Red's Emboar and Heracross. The fire-type offered a small nod while the bug-type waved. He returned their greetings before going back to his training.

SMACK!

SMACK!

SMACK!

The duo simply sat there and watched him.

SMACK!

SMACK!

SMACK!

Hours passed. The tranquil rhythm of his flesh slamming into hardwood became a familiar song. Soft flesh had hardened into an indomitable weapon. A single strike. Precision made manifest. Find the weakness.

There was no time for fairness.

Strike a blow so wicked that it would render terrible judgment.

SMACK!

Crack!

Kubfu nodded swiftly. Just like that. He heard heavy applause. He glanced to see Heracross and Emboar clapping at his achievement. The cub took a deep breath before bowing.

He trained without the need for recognition. Strength alone was its own reward.

...

But it didn't hurt to be praised once in a while.

He felt Emboar's hand on his head. He looked up and watched Emboar motion him to come forward. They walked farther from Red's encampment until they reached a massive boulder. He blinked when he saw it.

Did Emboar and Heracross think he could take something like this on? Did they believe that simple stumps of wood were no longer enough for his training? He looked at the two Pokemon incredulously.

The look on Emboar's eyes said yes, they did think he could do it.

Yeah.

No.

Kubfu shook his head. Emboar laughed. Heracross rolled his eyes.

BOOOM!

CRUMBLE!

In an instant, Emboar's fist collided with merciless stone and Kubfu could only watch as it was turned into powder.

Woah.

Emboar huffed before changing his stance. On instinct, Kubfu copied it. He followed the motions, his eyes absorbing the fire-type's actions. He was power incarnate. Brutality made flesh. A ravaging flame.

Charizard was passionate defiance.

Typhlosion was rage manifested.

Infernape was a roaring fire.

Emboar was sheer power.

His technique was corrected. He helped him emphasize strength. He taught him how to use the full brunt of his form. He showed him might. His stance became more confident. His punches became harder.

When they went to another boulder, Emboar allowed him to release a strike.

Smack.

He expected it to hurt, but he was surprised by the firmness of his attacks. He released another. And another. Flesh was tested on hardened stone. There was no dent. No cracks. He didn't expect it to.

He had another obstacle to surpass. The climb seemed never-ending.

Kubfu felt Heracross tap his shoulder. He looked back and noticed the bug flying to another rock. The cub tilted his head. Before he could comprehend his actions, Heracross's horn glowed. The bug-type flew and charged at the stone with Megahorn.

Kubfu expected the boulder to get demolished in an instant.

At full speed, Heracross was closing in on the rock.

It did break the stone.

Though the way it happened made his mind go blank.

Heracross's speed slowed down and Kubfu blinked when the glowing horn gently tapped the rock.

Kubfu thought perhaps Heracross decided to change his mind. Why did his attack falter?

CRACK!

His fists lowered when the rock was split in half from the small nudge. What? How? The bug flew back to them and landed in front of the bear. Kubfu looked at him as if he was sorcery.

Magic! Heresy! What kind of martial shenanigans was this?

Heracross looked amused at his disbelief before the bug tapped a spot on Kubfu's rock. He stopped and curiously focused on the area. Heracross began punching the air and the cub nodded and began striking it.

At first, nothing happened. He looked at Heracross, puzzled, but the bug-type continued to urge him on. Kubfu shrugged and did so.

His fists struck unbending stone.

Smack!

Smack!

Smack!

A few more hours passed and Kubfu's fist kept striking the location he was told to. It was monotonous. Most Pokemon would get frustrated by the bug-type's insistence. Whatever he wanted him to do, it wasn't working. Regardless, he knew Red. He knew his Pokemon. He trusted them. If they told him to keep hitting a specific spot in this specific rock, he'd do it.

He was used to doing the same thing every day anyway.

Heracross and Emboar continued to watch him.

Smack!

Smack!

Smack!

His fists slammed once more.

SMACK!

Boom.

Crack.

He paused as he watched the rock split in two. Kubfu blinked.

Huh.

He expected to not be able to dent this rock for a few days much less crack it. Yet his fists not only endured merciless stone, it shattered it perfectly. He looked at the split boulder that Heracross struck in the distance.

His mind connected the dots. Faults within rock and stone lead to weaknesses that could be exploited. A singular strike in the correct place could deal a devastating blow. He knew that in the past, but to see it clearly and so openly like this was a different feeling altogether.

He needed the power to damage it, but he also needed the precision to exploit it. Both Emboar and Heracross knew his goal.

And they helped him in their own ways.

He clenched his fists before bowing to the two.

Thank you.

The journey, the climb, didn't feel so lonely.

XXX

Ghetsis was irritated. N could see it.

He tried to portray the very aspects of a leader. Confidence. Serenity. Wisdom. Ghetsis knew that for others to follow him, he needed to be someone worth following and his image helped with that.

He taught N how to be a leader. A king needed to look the part, his father would always say.

Ghetsis taught him too well.

Something was happening in the outside world, something that was bothering his father to a point that even N would notice.

"Are you okay, father?"

Ghetsis turned to stare at the teenager. He revealed a strained smile. It was meant to calm him. It did anything but. "Everything's fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," he frowned at N's inquisitive look. He sighed. "The outside world has been problematic as of late, but it isn't something that we cannot handle."

"What do you mean?"

"Violence," Ghetsis stared ahead inside their manor. "The pretender king seeks to destroy everything we've built. He sent out his royal guard to eradicate our efforts. Especially that savage psychic wench. Everything we have done for the sake of stopping Pokemon oppression," he looked back at N, "it will be undone by the very actions we've sworn to eradicate."

N frowned. "That doesn't sound like the King of Unova that I know."

"That you know?" His father raised a brow. "Since when did you know anything about him?"

N slowly closed his mouth. His father still hadn't allowed them to meet any new Pokemon, but if his father became suspicious of the friends still here, it would spell doom for the Pokemon.

Ghetsis stared before sighing. "He is our foe."

"I know."

"Do you?" Ghetsis challenged. "He is everything we hate. He sends his Pokemon to battle, constantly risking their lives for his desires, and amongst the drivel that called themselves trainers, he is ranked the strongest of them all."

"I know."

"You don't," he stated before patting his green hair. It lacked the warmth one would expect of a father and son, "but I do not blame you. You have not seen the world that I have seen. You are pure; innocent. You hold a different perspective from the rest of us and that is a good thing. It will help you in the future."

"I understand."

"I hope so," Ghetsis went down to meet N's eyes with his own. "You will lead us into glory, N. You must be the perfect king," N was silent. His father continued, "and a king would do anything for those he cares for." Ghetsis stood up. "Do I make myself clear, N?"

"Yes."

"Good," his father nodded. "As long as you listen to my words, our dreams of peace will come to fruition."

That's right. Just listen to him. Everything will be okay.

In his heart of hearts, he knew he was lying to himself.

XXX

He had grown. Significantly.

Mustard watched as Kubfu sent a Brick Break at Red's Hawlucha. The flying-type blocked the hit before hitting the cub with a beautiful Flying Press. Wow! Perfect form! Such grace! Now that was showmanship!

That would have taken out Kubfu in a single hit a few weeks ago.

The cub braced for impact before marching forward. Metal Claw touched brilliant feathers. A nearby Gliscor flew alongside Corvisquire. Applin and Thwackey were preparing their latest meal with Red's help. Pikachu, ever the leader of the man's party, took responsibility for watching the match between both fighters.

He took a sip of his tea.

Gone were the days when his Kubfu would silently train, content with performing his katas and punching air. The little thing had matured, shaping into his own. His style was developing nicely and his confidence grew with each passing day.

With air, he practiced form. With wood, he practiced technique. With stone, he practiced force and precision.

With flesh, he practiced combat.

Kubfu was pushed back from a swift High-Jump Kick. The cub took Hawlucha's leg and slammed him down. Ice Punch struck the flying-type.

Smack!

The little bear warrior was sent flying from a perfect Brick Break. Red's Pokemon let out a loud cry. Kubfu stood up, only to drop to his knees.

Mustard chuckled as he watched Pikachu and Hawlucha help the bear to his feet. Applin grabbed an Oran Berry and tossed it into the air. Gliscor nabbed it before dropping it down to the wounded. It was a beautiful system. Red trained his team well.

He had thought excitement was behind him, but this class of students was perhaps the most entertaining that he had in a while. Hahaha!

Thud.

He turned to see Klara fall to her knees. A batch of mushrooms was laid out in front of him. "There. Three Max Mushrooms. Like you said."

"Full points!" He chuckled. Klara grumbled but kept her mouth shut. "I didn't think you'd manage to do it."

"I didn't either," she groaned, massaging her thighs. "Your training is something else!" He shrugged. Not everyone approved of his ways. He learned to accept that long ago. "So how do I turn this thing into soup?"

He blinked. "Wanting to continue already?"

The objective was simply to gather them. Klara knew that. If she could find an excuse to laze about for the rest of the day, she would take it. Seeing her willing to do more than necessary was a surprise for the old mentor. Klara sighed. "I spent most of the day finding these dang things. What's a few more hours to finish it?"

"Who are you and what did you do to my student?"

"Oh shut up," she crossed her arms. She glanced at a man in the distance. "As much as I loathe to admit it, I am getting stronger. I might as well commit to it." She released a breath. "Besides, if I do it now, I don't have to do it later, right? I could use the beauty sleep."

Mustard laughed. "Any excuse to get you working is a good one in my book." He nodded to Red. "He knows how to make the soup." The lad finished that assignment rather quickly. The expertise of a traveler, he supposed. "Go to him and tell him that old man Mustard wants him to teach you how to cook it."

She didn't seem to mind that one bit. A smile appeared before grimacing when she began hauling the mushrooms once more. She let out a long sigh. "Fine."

He watched as Klara headed down, waving happily at the man. Mustard could smell the food from here. The man was a cook! The two trainers began conversing. He didn't hear any of it, but he watched as Red helped carry the mushrooms to the side. He began instructing her with the woman listening closely.

Huh.

He'd make a good teacher.

He took a sip of his tea.

"Hello, sensei." Avery was levitating his mushrooms. He crossed his arms. "I have the Max Mushrooms."

"You too?!"

What happened to his students?

XXX

The Seven Sages were talking with one another in his home. Silken whispers traveled the walls as a foreboding tension permeated the manor. It was suffocating. To alleviate this, N stayed in his room with his friends and sisters.

Weeks passed since then and he followed his father's words to the letter. They would handle it. There was no need to worry.

Your father has been very stressed lately, Timburr muttered.

"Their king has focused his attention on us."

On them. Timburr sat next to him. Not you.

"I am a part of them."

You are a good person, Timburr shook his head. The King of Unova doesn't go after good people.

Such faith. What did the King of Unova do to earn such devotion? N smiled. "Are you saying my father is not a good person?"

He's horrible. Timburr crossed his arms. He's always so indifferent and rude and strict. He doesn't let you leave. He's forcing you to do terrible things. He doesn't do things a dad should do. He's awful.

Anthea and Concordia were ready to speak up, but he responded first. "He wants to keep me safe."

In a gilded cage, the fighting-type argued. He doesn't want you to be free. He wants to control you.

"He wants to make the world a better place," N said.

For himself. He was stubborn on this. If only N had that same conviction.

"Even if it is selfish," he began, "the world we make will be better than the world we are in now."

Timburr sighed. You are a fool.

N could say nothing to that.

He heard a door open. For once, his sisters shivered under the gaze of one of the Seven Sages.

"N, it's time."

His coronation was thought early by some. He would inherit a crown despite being so young, but the opposing king had forced their hand. Ghetsis wanted to do this when he was eighteen. It was his rite of passage to adulthood. He would rule, as the next King of Unova. That was Ghetsis's gift to him. From father to son.

Gift.

Ha.

Once upon a time, he believed that lie.

He took a step forward.

To his destiny of fire and brimstone.

XXX

Kubfu had climbed over obstacles his entire life. He rose to the challenge given to him by his sensei every single time.

Every assignment given, he accomplished. Every lesson, he memorized. Every technique, mastered. He sacrificed time, sweat, blood, and tears to become the way he was. Every day, he marched forward on the mountain of power. Even if one day meant one step, he would take it. Every scrap of progress was progress well deserved. His victories were many.

His defeats were many too.

His eyes stared at the tower.

Kubfus would climb this challenge, rising through each floor until they would hit the top. From there, a scroll would be offered. The key to the promised strength his sensei preached. The secrets inside this place were the envy of every Kubfu who embarked on this journey.

He was the latest.

His sensei would offer to help him find a trainer that would help him grow. He took it but he never meshed with those who were chosen.

They were too lazy. Too unfocused. He needed a trainer that had the discipline required to make him excel. He needed someone that he could connect to. Apparently it was a hard requirement to meet. He was given to dozens. No one did enough for him.

He didn't want his climb to slow so he decided that fighting alone would be his philosophy. His sensei trained him up, helped him, but his sensei also said that this journey of his had to be done without him.

He accepted, of course. He tried to climb this tower on his own. He failed, horribly. He attempted it several more times. He never got past the first floor. He grew to learn that while a Pokemon's strength was prized, the trainer's guidance could help turn the tide of battle.

He didn't like that, at first, but he grew to accept that his journey might take longer than others.

This time it would be different.

He grew stronger now. Powerful.

He was also wiser. Keener.

His feet marched to a familiar face. He nodded to a relaxing Torterra and Floatzel. The Sinnoh titan nodded while Floatzel waved. He moved past Corviknight, Thwackey, and Applin until he reached Red and Pikachu.

"Kubfu," Red nodded. "Good morning." They had grown used to each other by now. Kubfu bowed. "We were on our way to Mustard for our assignment of the day. Want to come?"

Kubfu shook his head. He straightened and stared at the man. He let out a cry. It was earnest. He rarely did this, but perhaps out of every trainer, he might be able to help. He pointed behind him. In the distance, a tower waited. He felt he could do it. He could climb it.

But he needed a trainer.

And while Red wasn't his, he trusted him more than any other.

He looked up and saw what he saw. Red hummed before looking back down at the cub. "I've seen it around, but I've never had the honor of going there." Kubfu knew why. It was a sacred place. Only the Kubfu and those who guide them that were allowed into its grand interior. He let out another cry. "You want to go there?" Kubfu nodded. He stared. "And you need my help?"

Yes. Kubfu bent his knee, head bowed.

Help.

He stayed silent.

Please.

His heart and soul knew that if there was a time that he felt he could reach the top of that tower, it was now.

And he knew, that if there was anyone who could help him, guide him in that illustrious and foreboding spire, it would be Red.

The man stayed silent for a moment. Kubfu thought he would deny him. They had trained together. He had grown fond of the Pokemon Red worked with. For the first time, Kubfu felt like he was amongst friends. He was close to his sensei and while he would always hold him in high regard, he could never act the way he did with Red's group.

Kubfu liked being with Red.

But he wasn't Red's Pokemon. He was still under Sensei's care. He could understand if Red said no.

A hand was placed on Kubfu's head and he looked up to see Red, bag packed, with his Pokemon behind him.

Hope surged in his heart.

"Let's go."

XXX

He knew they would come. He felt it in his bones. The way Kubfu stared at the towers recently had given him a clue of what was to come.

The sound of battle could be heard below. Mustard meditated. He could sense it. The vibrations on the wood, the noise of flesh meeting flesh, and the defeated groans of his veteran students.

Red and Kubfu crushed through their competition. Two veritable warriors had begun their climb to the ultimate test.

One by one, his finest students fell, the guardians of the tower being shattered by the determination of the pair before them. Red had become one of his greatest students, one of the few who had openly embraced his teachings and mastered every lesson taught to him. Not even Leon, as powerful as he was, had taken in his philosophies the way Red did.

It reminded him of when he was younger. This young brat's love of the fight made him remember why he wanted to teach in the first place.

Mustard smiled when he heard the heavy steps of his opponents.

Leon inherited Galar's competitive spirit, taking the crown from him and Peony, but it would be Red who would inherit his legacy. He knew his teachings would be carried with him for the rest of his life.

"Mustard."

"Red." The man opened his eyes and smiled when two familiar faces met his vision. "I didn't expect you here."

He totally did. That Kubfu had found a trainer worthy to follow.

"Nor did I expect you," Red grinned. "So you're our final challenge."

Mustard stood up and stretched. "Aye, lad." He grinned. He took out his pokeball. Kubfu tensed. Red narrowed his eyes. "You two have been some of the finest students I have ever had the honor of teaching."

"It is thanks to your tutelage."

"Perhaps." It was their efforts that shaped them. His dojo only guided them. "There isn't much left I can offer you, but I have one last test left. Let's see what you can do."

He tossed the pokeball.

Their eyes widened. One out of fascination. Another from terror.

Conqueror. Warlord. Beast. Monster. Legend. He descended. His landing shook the tower they stood on. Mustard watched as Red's carefree expression shifted. He had rarely seen the boy look this serious. Kubfu gulped. Mustard didn't blame them.

Before them stood a master of battle. A veteran of combat.

Stomp.

Urshifu roared.

XXX

Kubfu's muscles shook. It took all of his mental strength to reign in his fear.

He didn't plan for this! This was not a fight he could win! He was going to die!

"I've never seen that Pokemon before." Red's calm broke through Kubfu's terror. He looked up only to see the man give him an assuring smile. The confidence in his voice was inspiring. He latched onto it desperately. "Just follow my lead. We'll get through this together."

Right. Don't give in just yet. Trainer and Pokemon. Sensei taught him to rely on each other. They were in this together. He was a weapon and Red was his wielder. He knew he could fight. He would lead him to victory. He needed to convince himself that what he said was true.

He would win this. He had to.

Kubfu took a breath and went into a stance.

In the past, this trial would be Kubfu against Kubfu. It would be the ultimate test of skill. By surpassing his peers, he would be given the scroll and rise from the lower echelons into a warrior feared by all.

Now the student must face the master.

Thick, bulging muscles ebbed and flowed like water. Firm, concentrated strength languidly formed into a familiar stance. One leg and both arms raised into a solid, perfect picture of a crane. His body was perfect, still like tranquil water, but tense like a raging tsunami. He was the peak.

Soft fur stood firm, his heart beating wildly. With legs apart and his elbow raised, he stood against a living tsunami of muscle.

Urshifu reached him in an instant.

Surging Strikes roared like a raging storm. Fists rained down.

Memories flashed of Red's spar with Mustard. Muscle memory kicked in and he reacted.

Urshifu's fists exploded like cannon fire.

BOOM!

He dodged the first. With both arms, he blocked the second. He braced the third.

He was sent flying. A crater formed on the wall as he slammed into it. He gritted his teeth as he dropped back to the ground. His vision blurred. He looked straight ahead only to see a fist heading his way.

BOOM!

He rolled low, watching with widened eyes as Urshifu's fist generated a raging gust of wind. The monster's eyes tracked the cub before he closed the distance with Close Combat.

Avoid it. Watch. Adapt.

Kubfu took a step back and used his small size to escape the brunt of the onslaught.

BAM!

CRACK!

Gusts of wind swept him off his feet. He winced when the martial artist grabbed his small frame. His breath left him when he was thrown down to the ground. Wood cracked from the force. Poison Jab was launched like a rocket.

Kubfu raised his arms and called forth Bulk Up. He felt his soul leave his body from the assault. His eyes widened when the sheer force of the strike made him bounce from the attack. Kubfu heaved himself up and flipped away just as a barrage of Surging Strikes slammed into the ground.

His defenses were tested against ravaging offense. Hulking berserker met tiny martial artist. Close Combat slammed into soft fur. He braced the most of it. Poison Jab rammed into flesh. His arms mitigated some of it.

CRASH!

Kubfu grunted as he was smacked into the wall. He tensed when Urshifu released a furious roar. The monster launched himself straight at him, Iron Head soaring across the arena.

He remembered Emboar.

Rock. Stone. Boulder.

Iron.

Similar.

He remembered Heracross.

Precise. Faults. Weakness.

Head. Neck.

Exposed.

He looked back at Red, who seemed to notice the same thing. Both exchanged thoughts in an instant.

Kubfu's arm glowed with Brick Break.

One hit, one blow.

Make it count.

He remembered Red. He ducked.

Iron Head crashed into the wall. At that moment, in that split second of surprise, he went straight for the neck.

SMACK!

Brick Break collided with flesh. Kubfu's eyes widened at the toughness. It was tougher than any boulder. Urshifu snarled before Kubfu was tossed away, the sheer force of such a simple action causing him to fly across the arena. Instincts kicked in and he caught his landing. He looked up and noted the monstrous beast of a warrior rubbing his neck.

It hurt.

Kubfu's eyes widened.

And if it can hurt, it can bleed.

Energy surged with him.

And if it can bleed, it can be beaten.

The giant rolled his shoulders before Poison Jab rammed into hardened wood. Kubfu flinched as splinters exploded upward. He covered his face as sharp debris attempted to puncture flesh.

That was a mistake.

Urshifu blew through the wooden cloud and reached him. Surging Strikes flared to life. His body instinctively braced with Bulk Up. Mitigate the strikes like Red.

He blocked the first. He braced the second. His heart almost stopped against the third. Urshifu kept going with Close Combat. He rolled between the beast's legs to avoid it.

Find a weakness. His eyes looked ahead.

And strike.

With sharpened steel, Metal Claw swiped the back of the beast's legs. He lifted his leg to swat the cub away. Kubfu rolled low and did it again. Another Metal Claw dug into flesh. The same leg, the same spot.

Annoying gnat faced massive warlord. Kubfu took advantage of his small size and kept swiping into the flesh of the godly martial artist's leg. He had to use every advantage. Make use of his size. Utilize everything he learned.

He avoided a Poison Jab before his claws began pulsing with glowing steel.

SCHI-

Make every hit count. Quality over quantity. He couldn't let out a rain of fists. He didn't need to. As long as the strike landed perfectly, it would hurt. Claws stabbed into stone-like skin.

-INK!

It dug through. Kubfu flipped away just as the titan crumbled. Urshifu let out a grunt, down on one knee. He would recover. He had to use this. His fist turned cold.

Kubfu reached the beast in an instant. He jumped up.

Ice Punch collided.

BAM!

Urshifu's head rolled back. Brick Break coated his other arm.

He dug into the warlord's neck.

BANG!

Like a gunshot, his strike was critical.

Urshifu's eyes glowed with rage. The tower shook as he released a roar that sent Kubfu flying. Before he could soar out of the Pokemon's range, he was grasped with a firm hand. Horror dawned in Kubfu's eyes as he was tossed up. Surging Strikes rained from below.

He could not react fast enough.

BOOM!

Sharp pain rammed into him from the first.

BOOM!

Urshifu grabbed him again before he was sent flying and dropped him to release the second.

BOOM!

Kubfu's body crumbled to the ground as Urshifu launched the third straight down.

He lost his breath as he was kicked into the wall. Kubfu did his best to evade the onslaught. Close Combat rocked his bones. Poison Jab exploded into his flesh. His vision blurred.

Was this his end? Did he climb this high only to be tossed back down? This tower, this enviable, frustrating tower; would he never get solace within its walls? All this training, was it for nothing?

Smack!

He took a step back as he braced for another punch. Every strike was as ferocious as a tsunami. He was the flood gate doing his best to keep it contained.

BANG!

Bruises littered his flesh. He could see Red tense as he watched Kubfu endure this endless punishment. They were both students. They had trained together, broken bread together, and trusted each other.

He must look so pitiful right now.

Another Bulk Up mitigated an Iron Head coming his way. Was this it?

No. He refused. This was not his end. Not. Like. This.

You've been hard at work.

His body tensed.

Your punches are getting deadlier by the day.

Kubfu braced for another fist. His training was not wasted here. Muscles ached as he flipped back. Red's Pokemon didn't help him just to see him fall like this. He worked too hard to lose.

He climbed this mountain.

You'll get there, I'm sure of it.

He remembered everything. The technique he developed. The one Red inspired. The one his Pokemon helped refine. Kubfu took a deep breath as he watched Urshifu dart forward. This was his last chance. He would fall here otherwise.

He needed to use it now.

He needed to master it now.

Kubfu went into a stance...

Urshifu reached him in an instant.

In Kubfu's mind eye, the beast's image was replaced with that of a boulder.

Surging Strikes roared to life.

...and let out a single punch.

XXX

Glowing light generated raging winds. Mustard's eyes widened into massive saucers as he was pushed back. Red held his ground, his eyes focused as the impossible happened before the old man's eyes.

BOOM!

His Urshifu was launched into the other side of the arena. The wall gave way in an instant. Wood, dust, and splinters exploded outward, burying his greatest Pokemon under a mound of debris. His head whipped to his Pokemon.

STOMP!

Only to look back at what could only be classified as a miracle.

Bulging arms swiped through the dust. Mustard tensed. Red grinned. It was almost maniacal.

Urshifu melted into his stance. It was once a mimicry of the real thing. A fake. Now it was very much real.

For the first time in Mustard's long life, he had just witnessed a Kubfu evolve without the scrolls. Kubfu's time with Red had reverse-engineered the techniques hidden in the darkness and harnessed its martial energy as his own. He didn't think it was possible. To remake the fighting style hidden inside a scroll without knowing the contents should not be something that could be done.

Mustard's Urshifu exploded out of the rubble, enraged. He let out a deafening roar. His opponent remained silent, his eyes focused. Mustard realized that the beast had adopted the trainer's mannerisms.

His hands reached for his Dynamax Band only to force himself to drop it. Gigantamaxing here would destroy the tower entirely!

No, he must face him fair and square. Mustard's smile widened as his heart began to beat wildly. It had been quite a while since he was caught unaware. Red's grin matched him.

Their competitive spirit reached a crescendo.

"Urshifu!" Mustard roared. "Let's show these whippersnappers how it's done!"

"It's time for the student to surpass the master," Red said. "Victory is within our grasp. Don't let go."

Both beasts met at the center.

XXX

Death from a thousand strikes.

One fist, one blow.

Which one was better? People would often debate it, arguing the intricacies of both branches of war. It sounded foolish to him. They were weapons. They did the job. Why argue over semantics? Tools should be used. That was their purpose.

Neither was better than the other. Both were equally viable. Both were powerful martial arts that stood the test of time. For generations, each style had obtained accolades beyond compare. They were rivals. They were comrades. They were peers.

Surging Strikes manifested out of thin air. He watched it.

BOOM!

He blocked the first.

BOOM!

He avoided the second.

BOOM!

He caught the third.

BANG!

His opponent's breath left him as Wicked Blow collided. The warlord's chest tested iron fists. He grabbed the warrior's arms before he could fall back. With raised fists, he launched another.

Gunshot.

BANG!

Wicked Blow crashed into his face. The berserker backed off, great hands clutching his head in pain. He relaxed into his stance. His opponent shook his head before sending a piercing glare his way. He took it in stride, watching as his foe circled him.

Both styles had their weaknesses. Both had their strengths. His opponent was fluid, adaptable. His aggression made it hard for Pokemon to recover. His onslaught was feared.

But it was also exhausting. It drained his opponent to fight like this. When he watched Red and Mustard fight, he understood that.

So he must fight like how he was taught. Through the foundations his sensei laid for him. Through the style Red had built for him. Through the lessons Red's Pokemon had offered for him.

Efficient. Exploitive. Dirty.

Dark. Deadly. Dangerous.

I guess you can call me a dirty fighter.

Swift like raging water, the berserker rushed him. He backed off, evading the Close Combat. His opponent roared, taunting, boastful. He ignored it. Unnecessary.

Find the perfect opportunity.

He would finish it with his next blow.

Rampaging, his opponent began another assault. Poison Jabs combined with Close Combat. Surging Strikes flew, as myriad as storm rain. With keen eyes, he tracked each fist. He blocked a dozen. He dodged another. He braced for the rest.

Bruises formed. Sturdy technique avoided grievous damage.

It was a dance. A brutal show against the raging seas and ominous silence. It was a tense balance. The damage he sustained as a Kubfu hindered his form somewhat. His opponent's injuries from three perfect blows slowed his rage to manageable levels.

His fists blocked a flurry of Close Combat. He ducked under a Poison Jab.

Time slowed. His instincts urged him.

His foe was exposed.

It was time.

Flawless technique formed. Darkness exploded outward. His fist tightened into a manifestation of a war god's wrath. He could see his opponent's eyes widen. He could feel the roaring of the sea being beckoned once more. One last desperate Surging Strikes.

He would be too slow.

Fear the Pokemon who practiced one attack a thousand times.

This was his summit.

BANG!

XXX

Cynthia took a scoop of her ice cream.

"Delicious?"

"Very," she grinned as she took it in her mouth. Caitlin watched her, amused. The Unova Elite Four was visiting. A small break, she said. The woman had apparently been very busy in Unova. Judging from the excessive yawns, she could tell. Then again, the woman did like to sleep. "It's a surprise to see you in Sinnoh."

Caitlin waved it off. "I have been doing my part helping my lord with his work. I thought it prudent that I take a small break before I resume my activities."

"Small?" Cynthia blinked. "You took a trip to Sinnoh. From Unova."

That must have been expensive.

She yawned. "I could afford it." Right. Cynthia kept forgetting that. "I would have visited Red, but I didn't want to disturb him from his journey."

"So you decided to visit me instead?"

"Yes," Caitlin smiled. "We're friends, after all. I would like to spend more time with you. I will head back to Unova tomorrow, but I figured that I would learn more about my lord's consort."

"I'm his girlfriend."

"That's what I said," Caitlin laughed. "Consort."

Cynthia rolled her eyes. "Well, Caitlin, what have you been up to lately?"

"Pressuring Team Plasma and raiding several of their hideouts."

That was one way to answer her question. Cynthia stopped eating and looked at the woman. "What?"

"Under Red's orders, of course." Caitlin didn't seem to find anything wrong with it. "Throughout his journey, he has been sending me locations of Team Plasma's bases. It is curious how he knows their locations." She took a spoon and scooped some of the Sinnoh champion's ice cream. Cynthia blinked and grabbed it back. Caitlin pouted. "I should ask him."

Perhaps he had a history with them in the past. Well, future. Thinking was hard. It would make sense. "I expected him to fulfill his responsibilities after exploring Galar." He mentioned handling business in Unova during his time in Celestic Town.

This was not what she figured he meant.

"He has been trying to pinpoint the exact location of a specific spot," Caitlin said. "He did not know where it was, but he told me that what he was looking for was a castle. If I find it, I was told to tell him as soon as possible."

"And he has been feeding you information."

"We have narrowed it down." She nodded. "Red tells me everything he knows and I, along with the rest of Unova's Elite Four and gym leaders, make use of it to find this...castle."

"Do you know why?"

She shrugged. "That is all I know."

"Breaking news! Chaos erupts in Unova! Forest aflame as a mysterious Pokemon rages across Victory Road!" Both blinked as they turned to see a massive white dragon release a blast of immense heat. The cameraman atop a helicopter shook as if the very land quaked from its strength. They watched in silence as they noted a castle burning in the distance.

Cynthia lowered her spoon. She looked at Caitlin. "That castle?"

"That castle," the psychic noble sighed. She massaged her head. "On the day I took a break too."

She watched the woman run off, mumbling and cursing, no doubt to take a plane straight back to her region. The screen was blinded by orange light as more of the castle erupted with legendary fire. Did Red plan this? She wouldn't be surprised if he did.

She should be worried and in truth, she was, but she trusted that Red knew what he was doing. The way he adapted to Mewtwo's ambush was proof of that. She would leave it to him and if he needed her, she would come.

She took another bite of her ice cream.

Having a reliable boyfriend was pretty cool.

XXX

"Do you really have to go?" Avery slumped. "I thought you would be studying under this dojo a little longer."

Red smiled sadly. "I do, unfortunately."

"But why?" Klara whined. "The place is going to be so boring without you."

"I have some things I need to deal with back home," he laughed. Behind him, Thwackey, Applin, Corviknight, and Urshifu stood. "I'll return to Galar just in time for a party though."

"Is it Rose's little party thing?" Avery blinked. He smiled. "I was invited as well."

Klara perked up. "Me too!"

"I'll see you both then," Red said. He turned to an approaching elderly man. He bowed. "Thank you for everything."

Mustard waved it off. "Thank you for studying here."

"I would have stayed a little longer, but there was an emergency back home. I want to deal with it personally." He sighed. "Sorry for cutting things short."

"Don't worry about it. You're always welcome here," Mustard laughed, "and I feel like I have little left to teach you anyhow." He nodded to Urshifu. "If you want to go with him, I won't stop you. You two make an excellent team. I know you will go far." Urshifu bowed to him. Mustard cracked a smile before tossing a pokeball to Red. "Take care of him, lad."

He caught it. "I will."

"Now run along now," he said. "You've got business in Unova, right? Being champion and all."

"Huh?" Avery looked at the man in a new light.

Klara gulped. "You're telling me you're a champion." Her face twitched. "And you did not tell me."

"Klara, your face."

"Imagine if I posted this on Pokevision! The views, Avery, the views!"

Red sighed, ignoring the bickering in the background. "So you knew."

"Not initially," Mustard grinned, "but there is no way I lost to a nobody. My pride won't accept that. I looked you up, King of Unova."

"Right," he said. "Well, I shouldn't expect anything less from Galar's longest-reigning champion."

Mustard barked a laugh. Brat. "I expect you on the world stage one day, boy. It'd be a shame for Unova to have you all for themselves."

"If you're talking about the World Coronation, I plan on doing it eventually," Red said. "I wanted to explore Galar first."

"I understand," he chuckled. He understood the boy. Ambition was all well and good, but he learned over time that it was the journey that was worth more than the destination. Leon didn't quite understand that. "Farewell and safe travels."

Red nodded. "Farewell."

His student left, taking a flying taxi straight back. That man would go far. He had what it took to become a monarch if he put his mind to it. Ha. Leon should watch out. The lad finally got some legitimate competition.

He turned back to Avery and Klara who tensed at his gaze. "What're you two doing? Get back to training!"

The two groaned.

XXX

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Once again, thank you, and I hope you enjoyed.