In the stable environment of the Pokeball, Hitmontop drifted off to sleep. The kind humans had treated his wounds and he slept soundly, enjoying the rest his body needed.

His dream was a day like any other…

Under the towering branches of a massive cedar, his eyes slowly open. Sunlight breaks through the roof of leaves above his head, but the air is warm and the breeze is refreshing.

Beneath the boughs of the tree is his favorite spot to take morning naps. The roots that break through the earth make for a cozy spot to relax after training. The earth is soft here. The treeline forms a natural ring, encompassing the house and the yard. From the wide sliding doors, his Master emerges. The human is old, but there is still love and joy on his weathered, wrinkled face. He has no fear of his age, his eyes are bright and full of light. He wears a sleeveless white shirt that stretches over his belly but his body is taught muscle, hardened through discipline and rigorous effort. His long graying beard is tied into knots and his thinning hair is held back in a ponytail. Flanking the human are his two Pokemon, a Hitmonlee and Hitmonchan, his companions of many years. Hitmonlee crosses his arms in a stoic manner while Hitmonchan shares in his Trainer's smile.

He rises on shaky limbs, but he is younger now. His form is that of a Tyrogue. He wants to cry on the inside because his Master is here now. The elderly human approaches where he normally takes naps, and laughs, a bellowing cackle that fills Tyrogue with joy. He has not heard that sound for so long.

"Wahahaha! Sleeping like a baby I see!" the old man chuckles. "Hitmonlee tells me that your kicks grow more fierce by the day! And Hitmonchan says your footwork is getting better!"

The Master playfully jostles his head with one hand. Tyrogue smiles, which Hitmonchan returns and Hitmonlee nods approvingly.

"What a good time to end your nap, let us get to work! Show me what you're capable of Tyrogue!" the old man bellows.

For hours under that summer sun, they practice and spar. Under the Master's careful tutelage he has grown from a thin-skinned greenhorn to a confident pupil that eagerly awaits the next lesson. He masters move after move, dedicates himself fully to the teachings. When he fails, his teachers lift him up and encourage him to try again. He loves the lessons, the thrill of the fight and to try even if he might fail. He misses these days and he misses his teachers even more.

When the sun begins to wane, the Master calls for them to stop. He is breathing heavily and covered in sweat. From a nearby basin, he retrieves a bucket and douses himself before offering the same to his Pokemon. Tyrogue is last to wash the sweat away, but Hitmonlee dumps a full bucket on his head, drenching him. He laughs at the older Pokemon's antics. The human dries his forehead before lifting his head, smelling something in the air before a sly smile forms on his lips.

"Do you smell that?" he whispers to Tyrogue. "Kanna's making something special, let's go see!"

The Master moves with more grace and speed than someone his age should be capable of, leaping onto the back porch and opening the sliding door with ease. The house is old, but sturdy. The porch wraps around the entirety of it and there are sliding doors throughout the house. One of his earliest memories was playing hide-and-seek with the Master on a rainy day. The two older Fighting Types follow the Master, tiptoeing into the house and Tyrogue follows their example. The old man crept into the kitchen, a hot room where a small feast was being prepared. The scent of oil hung heavy in the air as he poked his head into the kitchen. At the ancient gas range was a woman with her graying hair tucked into a neat bun. She wore a simple dress with a white apron and her attention was on the bubbling pot of oil in front her. A platter of vegetables and meats were being battered and fried, along with several other dishes she was keeping an eye on. As the Master crept close to steal just a single fried morsel, a wooden spatula slapped his hand several times in quick succession causing him to recoil and cackle. That got a laugh from his three Pokemon. The woman's name was Kanna, and though she scolded the old man, she loved him dearly.

"It's not done yet, out of the kitchen, all of you!" she scolded her husband and his Pokemon. As they turned to leave, Tyrogue felt a hand on his shoulder pull him back. Kanna knelt down to his level with a warm gentle smile on her face.

"Don't you go stealing food now, ok? Have a little snack Tyrogue, it'll be our little secret." the old woman whispered before pushing a piece of tempura into his hands and gently nudging him out the door.

Tyrogue beamed, enjoying the snack as he wandered around the house, looking for Master Miura. Soon, he found the man and his Pokemon kneeling at the shrine in the soft grass that grew there. It was located in a courtyard in the middle of the house, and it could be seen from whatever door you walked out of. The courtyard had no special decorations, save for the shrine that the Master had built himself. It bore markings and inscriptions Tyrogue did not recognize. Above them stood a thin tree with pink flowers. He watched them for a few minutes, observing their ritual before the dream faded.

He awoke in the Pokeball again and he was still a Hitmontop. For a few minutes, he cries tears that his Trainer will not see before gathering himself and standing up. He is stronger now, and though the pain of missing his family hurts the pain of losing another one will hurt even more.