Mauville Gym, Hoenn Region
John, the Gardener
With a chime, the doors to the Mauville Gym slid open. John stepped inside, blinking against the mix of flashing lights and whirring mechanisms.
The gym was just as loud and overengineered as he remembered, buzzing lights overhead, arcs of static along metal rails, and far too many panels sparking for comfort. Some of it was clearly functional. Most of it, he suspected, was just Wattson's idea of flair.
He still remembered his own battle here, years ago, against the same jolly old man. Wattson probably wouldn't remember him, just one more nameless trainer who didn't make it that far. But that was fine. Life wasn't always about how far you got, he liked to think. Sometimes it was about how you lived along the way.
Maybe he'd pass this wisdom along to Wally, had to maintain the image of the wise old uncle, after all.
Smiling faintly to himself, he began scanning the gym floor for a familiar figure
No sign of Wally.
John adjusted his collar and stepped further in, past a spinning puzzle barrier that thankfully deactivated at his approach. He'd come to check on his dear nephew, maybe even bring him home.
Wally hadn't returned to Verdanturf in nearly a week, and while Claire's emails from the Gym said he was doing "exceptionally," that didn't quiet the worry gnawing at his chest.
The boy had always pushed himself too hard. Always felt like he had something to strive for, something more important than his health.
A booming voice snapped John out of his thoughts.
"Hoho! You've got fire, young lady!" Wattson roared, his laughter cracking through the gym like thunder. "You've earned it, your third badge, fair and square!"
In the center of the ring, a girl threw up a fist in triumph, her Combusken letting out a victorious cry beside her, standing tall over a fainted Manectric.
John blinked in recognition. That's May… Norman's girl, isn't it?
May beamed as she accepted the gleaming badge with both hands, "Thanks! And hey, your puzzles? Evil."
Wattson guffawed. "That's the fun!"
John couldn't help smiling as he approached them. The warmth of the gym, the laughter, the rush of a finished battle, it all took him back.
"Excuse me, May, wasn't it?" he said, giving a small wave. "Congratulations on the win."
May turned, her expression brightening with recognition. "Oh! Wally's uncle, right? Thanks!"
"That's me," John chuckled, then turned to Wattson with a polite nod. "And thank you, sir, for looking after him."
Wattson waved the gratitude off with a grin. "He's a good lad. Sharp as a sparkplug, that one."
John smiled again, but his eyes scanned the gym. "I was hoping to see him, actually. Has he come by yet today?"
Wattson scratched at his beard, face tilting thoughtfully. "Took the morning off. Said he couldn't quite get out of bed today."
The words landed heavier than expected.
John's smile dimmed just a little, his brows knitting. He'd promised Wanda not to fuss, but hearing that stirred something old and aching in him. Maybe she was right to worry after all.
Before he could say more, a door at the far end of the gym hissed open.
Wally stepped inside.
His sweater was wrinkled, his walk a little slow. Hair tied back, eyes shadowed faintly with tiredness, but he was standing. He looked around with mild surprise, until he spotted John. That smile bloomed instantly, gentle and familiar.
"Uncle John," he said, stepping over.
John's heart tugged a little. The boy looked too pale in this lighting. Still, he kept his tone light. "There you are."
Wally offered a sheepish shrug. "Sorry I'm late."
John took one look at him, shirt rumpled, eyes shadowed with fatigue, Ralts nestled against his chest, and felt something twist in his chest.
"You've been overworking yourself again," John said, his tone firmer than he meant. "You look like you barely slept. You can't keep pushing like this, Wally. Your mother was right to worry, this isn't sustainable."
Wally didn't flinch, but he didn't look at him either. "I'm fine," he said quietly.
And maybe that was what did it, how he said it. Too practiced. Too much like the last time Wally had said "I'm fine" and ended up fainting in the garden two hours later. John opened his mouth, words rising like a wave-
But May beat him to it.
"Your uncle's right, Wally, you really do need to take better care of yourself," May said, stepping forward like she was stepping into a battle. Her hands landed firmly on her hips, eyes sharp with concern. Then she added, more gently, "But it's not like you've been running in circles. You're stronger now. Happier, too."
John blinked, caught a little off guard by her conviction.
"You should've seen him," May continued, her voice picking up energy. "He handled a power plant meltdown. Caught a wild Rotom in the dark, while half the lights were going out and some Electrode was about to blow a hole in the wall."
Wally gave a small, embarrassed cough behind her.
John stared. "Rotom?"
"The real deal," May confirmed, folding her arms. "Little ghost kept zipping into vending machines and light fixtures. Slippery as anything, but Wally didn't give up, not once."
There was pride in her voice. Not the kind meant to impress, but the kind that came from genuine respect.
At this moment, Wattson gave a hearty clap, beard bouncing with the force. "Then why not show us just how far he's come, eh? Wally, how about a friendly battle with your friend here? I'll even referee!"
John raised both hands instinctively. "Hang on now, he's still just starting out. He doesn't need to prove anything. Especially, since May here is already an accomplished trainer."
"I promised May a battle," Wally said, softly but clearly. His eyes met John's, steady and calm. "So why not do it now?"
There was no tremble in his voice. No hesitation.
And that, more than anything, made John go quiet.
He looked at the boy, no, not just a boy anymore, and saw the faint creases of exhaustion, sure, but also a spine made of something steadier. There was still a gentleness in Wally's face, but it wasn't weakness. It was choice.
"…All right," John murmured, folding his arms with a sigh. "Just don't go giving me a heart attack."
Wally smiled. "I'll try."
Ralts stepped forward, eyes flickering with quiet focus.
May rolled her shoulders. "Combusken and I are ready when you are."
Across the room, Wattson was already whistling and dragging out chalk for the makeshift battlefield. "Let's make it official!"
John sighed, half-exasperated, half-amused. "I suppose I'm outnumbered."
He exhaled slowly, moving toward the bench at the edge of the gym. Maybe this wasn't what he came here for, but… maybe it was what Wally needed.
And maybe, just maybe, he needed to see it too.
..
The arena still thrummed from May's earlier victory. The lights had dimmed slightly, but the air buzzed with something different now: anticipation.
John stood by the railing, arms folded, leaning slightly forward. His eyes stayed fixed on Wally, watching the way the boy held himself, not with bravado, but quiet poise. No dramatic gestures, no shouted orders. Just that same gentle focus.
"Two-on-two, yeah?" May called across the battlefield, her voice bright, almost teasing.
Wally gave a small nod. "Sounds good."
May tossed first.
"Let's start with you."
A flash of light burst into the air. Taillow spiraled upward, its wings slicing the air with practiced speed. It cried sharply, circling above the battlefield like it owned the sky.
Wally didn't flinch. "Ralts, let's do this."
His Ralts landed with a soft tap, gaze lifted, calm and unreadable beneath her blue helm. John noticed how she shifted her stance subtly to match her trainer's. Their bond was quiet, but strong.
"Wally's grown, hasn't he?" a calm voice said behind him.
John turned slightly. Claire had joined him and Wattson, arms folded as she watched the field with sharp, observant eyes. Wattson gave a laugh that nearly startled John from his thoughts.
"You should've seen the lad this week," Wattson said. "He's been up before half my staff, out solving problems, helping trainers, learning by the second. I can't keep up with him!"
John blinked. "Really?"
"Really," Claire said, more softly. "He fixed our backup power relay before Kirk even noticed the alert. Spent half a day helping Sparky reroute a wild Pokémon incursion. Handled customer complaints better than some professionals. I've had trainers come back just to thank him."
John glanced at the boy now, murmuring something to Ralts as she shimmered out of the way of a Quick Attack. He looked like he was thinking through the entire battle five steps ahead.
"Sparky came out of our Training School with top marks," Claire continued. "Wally didn't. He just… showed up. Won a local tournament with barely a month of experience, and suddenly he's solving Gym-level problems. Sparky's been trying to match him ever since."
"Again!" May ordered as Taillow went for another blow.
But Ralts was already moving. Another flicker, another pulse. Wally used no wasted words.
John felt something shift in his chest.
Claire smiled faintly. "He doesn't just react. He predicts."
John said nothing. His nephew looked in his zone, yes, but pale. Pale as ever.
"Circle it, Taillow! Don't give Ralts time to aim!"
May was fast. Her Pokémon faster.
Taillow swooped in again, feinting left, then sharply right.
Wally pointed to a cracked panel in the gym floor. "Trip point. Tilt it."
Ralts's eyes glowed, and with a psychic pulse, she nudged the loose metal plate just as Taillow dove. The panel jolted upward with a sudden clang, and Taillow clipped its wing on the edge.
It stumbled mid-flight. Slowed.
Ralts raised both hands. The psychic burst landed clean.
Taillow dropped like a stone.
John stiffened. Taillow was hurt, but Wally's Ralts looked worn too, every breath visible.
"He's pushing himself," John muttered.
"He's also pushing his limits," Claire said gently. "In the right direction."
As if in answer, May's Taillow let out a cry, and began to glow.
John took a half-step forward. "Wait, "
Wattson let out a low whistle. "Evolution!"
The glow faded, revealing Swellow, wings sleek and powerful.
Wally didn't flinch. If anything, he tilted his head, thinking. Calculating. Claire narrowed her eyes with approval.
"He's not panicking," she said. "That's the difference."
"Swellow, Aerial Ace!" May shouted with renewed vigor.
Ralts barely dodged, clearly tiring now. But Wally wasn't panicking.
"Catch the wind tunnel," he called.
John blinked. A what?
Then he saw it, a soft updraft from the vent systems near the far end of the field. Ralts dashed toward it, and as Swellow gave chase, the current buffeted upward and slowed its trajectory just enough.
"Disarming Voice," Wally said.
One last cry echoed.
Swellow flailed, and crashed hard, finally down.
The gym went still.
The judge raised a hand. "Swellow is unable to battle!"
Claire didn't even blink. "He's a prodigy."
Wattson chuckled. "And he loves Pokémon. Got that real spark."
John looked back at Wally, now crouched beside Ralts, murmuring praise. She was exhausted, but proud. And he was smiling, that soft smile he always gave when he felt something deeply.
"He's sickly," John muttered, but his voice had softened.
"He's more than that now," Claire said gently. "He's helped many people in just a week. Every assistant here knows his name, not because of his condition, but because of what he brings."
Wattson folded his arms, nodding. "The lad's got heart. And instinct. More instinct than many trainers who've been at it for years."
John let out a slow breath.
The sickly boy from Verdanturf had just outsmarted an evolved Flying-type with clever footing and sheer tactical brilliance.
John found himself smiling.
Maybe, just maybe, it was time to let go of the idea of protecting Wally from the world.
And start thinking about how far the boy might go in it.
...
Battlefield, Mauville Gym.
May, Aspiring Trainer.
Swellow hit the ground hard, feathers splayed, wings twitching from the final blow. May's breath caught as the referee raised his hand.
"Swellow is unable to battle!"
Silence reigned for a beat.
Then May exhaled slowly, a small laugh escaping her lips. "Dang," she said under her breath, pulling out the Poké Ball.
"Good work out there, girl." Swellow dissolved in a red flash, and she clipped the ball back to her belt.
Across the field, Wally knelt beside his Ralts, gently brushing dust off her face. He whispered something to her, too soft to hear, but the way she leaned against him was enough to say she understood.
May cupped her hands around her mouth, grinning. "You've really improved, Wally!"
He stood up slowly, brushing dust from his knees, then gently scooped Ralts into his arms. His expression was tired but calm, and when he looked her way, there was a light in his eyes she hadn't seen before.
"I do my best," he said with a lopsided smile. "Though that evolution really threw me off. I guess I should start expecting the unexpected when I'm battling someone like you."
May raised an eyebrow, hands on her hips. "Someone like me? What's that supposed to mean?"
Wally tilted his head thoughtfully, as if considering it.
"Well," he said, "you've got the unpredictability of a critical hit and the energy of a Double Team. Just when I think I've figured you out, there's three more of you yelling different commands."
May burst out laughing. "Okay, rude. But fair."
She crossed the battlefield toward him, already unclipping her next Poké Ball.
"You ready for round two?" she said with a wink. "Because Combusken is dying to stretch his legs."
Wally gave a short laugh, stepping back toward his side of the field.
"Only if he promises not to evolve mid-battle again," he said. "My Roselia is dramatic enough without having to deal with that."
May tossed the Poké Ball into the air. "No promises!"
Wally gave a little bow, then whispered something to Ralts before returning her to her ball. She noticed how he lingered for just a second with the Poké Ball in his palm, fond, but focused.
"So, Time for the real fight." She tossed the ball high.
"Let's go, Combusken!"
The Fire-type landed with a heavy thud, claws scraping the floor, flames licking from it's arms with an eager hiss. It let out a sharp cry, crouched low in a fighter's stance, muscles taut with energy. This was the Pokémon she had raised the longest, through every bad matchup and hard-won victory.
Across the battlefield, Wally raised his last pokeball.
"Briar, let's give it our best."
A bloom of green and rose. Roselia landed lightly, petals flaring, vines twitching with practiced poise.
From the sidelines, John's voice rose, edged with concern. "A Grass-type? Against a Fire-type?"
Claire answered evenly, arms crossed. "His other two, Rotom and Feebas, are too green for a real fight. Low experience."
"Still," John muttered. "Seems like a rough choice."
May heard them. She grinned. "I won't go easy."
"Wouldn't expect you to," Wally said with a smile of his own. "And if I get scorched, I'll simply say I was adding warmth to Briar's soil."
May snorted. "You're ridiculous."
"Thank you."
The referee raised the flag. "Begin!"
"Stun Spore!"
Roselia twirled, a wave of golden mist blooming from her roses.
"Jump back, Combusken! Then Flame Charge!"
Combusken kicked off the ground, dodging the powder and leaving scorch marks on the floor as it surged forward in a streak of heat. It slammed into Roselia, hard, but Wally didn't flinch.
"Leech Seed!"
Roselia staggered, then spun mid-fall, launching seeds that burst against Combusken's chest and latched on. Thin green vines whipped out from them, wrapping gently around her opponent, drawing energy with each second.
May winced. "Break it off with Ember!"
Combusken snarled, flames crackling from her beak. He shot a burst of fire down his front, incinerating the vines, then dashed in again.
The floor scorched with every impact. Roselia weaved and danced, countering with well-placed Vine Whips and another burst of powder, but Combusken was relentless. Faster. Stronger.
May could feel her pulse rise, the thrill of battle building behind her ribs.
Wally's strategies were clever, no doubt. Roselia was graceful, intelligent, and surprisingly sturdy. But May knew her partner. Knew how far they'd come.
"One more Flame Charge!" she yelled.
The burst of heat was like a wave crashing. It connected square on, Roselia cried out, staggered, and the vines slackened.
A pause. Then Roselia dropped, unconscious.
The referee raised his arm. "Roselia is unable to battle!"
May exhaled hard, brushing her bangs back. "Phew. That was tougher than I expected."
She looked across the field, already knowing what she'd see, Wally kneeling by Briar, brushing ash off her petals with gentle fingers, whispering quiet thanks as he returned her to the ball.
He wasn't upset.
If anything, he looked… calm.
Proud.
May smiled, a little breathless but admiring.
One more to go.
She tightened her gloves.
"Ready when you are."
Wally took a quiet breath and reached for his last Poké Ball.
Across the field, May rolled her shoulders, still catching her breath from the last round. Combusken crouched low beside her, eyes burning with anticipation. She knew that stance. Her partner was ready.
The Poké Ball clicked open.
"Ralts," Wally said gently, "it's your turn."
The small Psychic-type emerged in a shimmer of red light, blinking calmly as her feet touched the floor. She gave a soft sound, then looked up at Wally quietly.
May felt her throat tighten, just a little.
That Ralts.
She still remembered the day, Route 102, her dad annoying her as usual, and Wally just a kid with a borrowed Zigzagoon. It had been a total coincidence that she helped the boy, only at the behest of her father.
And now here they were. Trainer against trainer. Face to face.
"Let's make it count," she said softly, then pointed forward. "Combusken, get ready!"
The bell rang.
"Teleport, now!"
Ralts vanished in a blink. Combusken lunged, claws slicing the air where she'd been.
"Spin and Ember!"
Combusken twisted, unleashing a quick arc of fire, but Ralts reappeared behind her in a shimmer.
"Confusion!"
A pulse of psychic energy flared. Combusken grunted, skidding back with sparks dancing around his limbs.
But he recovered fast.
"Double Kick!"
Two rapid strikes launched at Ralts, one missed by inches as she blinked away again, but the second grazed her as she reappeared. Ralts tumbled back, catching herself midair with a soft glow of her horn.
May clenched a fist. Wally wasn't just clever, he was tactical. Calm. Efficient. She could see how much they'd grown.
But she wasn't backing down.
"Charge in!"
Combusken darted forward, and Ralts met her head-on with another burst of psychic energy, forcing her to swerve.
The match had rhythm. Back and forth. Hit, dodge, counter. Psychic light flickering against firelight. Neither side yielding.
Sweat trickled down May's brow. "He's really… keeping up."
Across the field, Wally's expression hadn't changed. Focused. Not afraid. But then she saw it, the faint tremble in his shoulders. The effort in his breathing.
He was tired.
But he wasn't stopping.
As Combusken got tired, it was at this moment, his flames flared.
"Blaze," Wally called out, quietly watching the scene.
Blaze: Powerups fire-type moves in low health
May gasped, then grinned. "Alright then. Let's end this. Combusken, use Flame Charge!"
Combusken lunged forward, flame bursting from his fists as he rocketed across the field like a comet.
"Confusion, redirect it!"
Too late.
The explosion of fire and dust kicked up in a searing burst of heat. For a moment, no one could see the battlefield.
Then the smoke began to clear.
Ralts was on the ground.
Still.
"Ralts is unable to battle!"
May's breath caught. Then she grinned, exhaling all at once.
"We did it," she whispered. "You were amazing, Combusken."
She pulled her partner into a quick hug, the Fire-type collapsing slightly in exhaustion, then made her way across the field.
"Is she okay?" she asked, crouching as Wally gently lifted his partner into his arms.
"She'll be fine," Wally said, cradling Ralts carefully. His eyes looked tired, but calm. "She's strong. This was her first loss."
May knelt beside him. "She fought great. You both did."
Before she could say more, the others approached. Wattson let out a hearty laugh. "What a match! You both did great."
John stepped forward, nodding slowly. "Wally… you pushed her that far? That's no small thing."
"He really did," May added, beaming. "Three badges, and this might've been my hardest match yet."
"I'm sad, sure," Wally said softly. "But a loss like this… It's a rung on the ladder. We'll climb higher because of it. I can feel it."
May tilted her head, watching him. "That's a good way to think about it."
"Now that's the spirit of a real Trainer!" Wattson roared.
John chuckled, arms crossed. "That line's a keeper. You've been hanging around me too long, haven't you?"
"I do listen sometimes," Wally replied, eyes twinkling. "Even if I pretend not to."
John stepped closer, then turned to May. "Thank you, for everything. You were the one who gave him the chance to begin this journey. You let him catch his first Pokémon."
He reached into his bag and pulled out a small case. "Here. This is for you."
May blinked. "A TM?"
"Rock Smash," John said. "A small thank-you. For helping him become stronger."
She hesitated, then smiled and took it, holding it carefully. "Thanks. I'll use it well."
Wally tilted his head. "Why does everyone always have something dramatic to give other people? TM, wisdom, life lesson, what's next? Free coupons?"
"I've got a buy-one-get-one Rare Candy offer somewhere," Wattson said, patting his coat.
May snorted, laughing as Combusken leaned into her side.
"It's a little too early for you to know this secret, Wally." John also crackled along.
The four of them laughed, the sounds echoing off the walls of the old electric gym.
...
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