As several Pokémon — including Sleepy — collapsed to the ground, the opposing trainer stumbled forward, clutching his leg as he ran toward them.
"What… what happened here?!" he cried, his voice cracking with disbelief. He dropped to his knees beside the fallen Pokémon, eyes wide with grief, hands trembling as if afraid to touch them. His breath came ragged, uneven, the weight of shock pressing down like a storm.
I didn't answer. I didn't need to.
The Poké Ball in my hand — still warm from recalling Dragonite — was enough of an explanation.
Quietly, I whispered, "Good work, Dragonite," and returned him to his ball.
The silence that followed was unbearable — thick, suffocating, and heavy with unspoken emotions.
I knew that feeling too well. That hollow ache in your chest when you see your partner fall — the one who's shared your laughter, your battles, your dreams. Even if it wasn't entirely your fault… the sight is impossible to justify.
"I'm sorry."
The words barely made it past my lips, lost in the wind.
The trainer said nothing. His mouth opened, but no words came. What could he even say? His expression was shattered — pain, disbelief, and sorrow all tangled together.
Without waiting for orders, my healing Pokémon — led by Happiness — began to move. They approached the wounded with gentle eyes and glowing hands, tending to each fallen body with care.
Their abilities were exceptional. With treatment and a quick visit to the Pokémon Center, none of the Pokémon would suffer lasting harm. But…
Even when a nail is pulled from wood, the scar remains.
At last, the trainer spoke — voice trembling, but not angry. "What… happened here?"
He'd seen my intentions — knew I wasn't here to hurt anyone anymore — and so he didn't stop my partners from helping.
I took a breath and answered truthfully.
"There was a Snorlax lying on the bridge, blocking the way. I thought it was wild, so I tried to move it… but then the other Pokémon attacked, and I… reacted."
The words dropped like stones into the quiet air.
The trainer stared at me for a long moment, then sighed deeply and ran a hand through his hair — a slow, weary motion, more defeat than anger. He didn't argue, didn't accuse. He just… accepted the reality that couldn't be changed.
"...Now what?" he muttered. "What do I do now?"
I hesitated, then stepped closer.
"What's wrong? Let me help you."
If someone ends up in trouble because of me, then it's my duty to make things right. Especially when it involves someone's partner — their heart. Watching a loved Pokémon suffer hurts worse than any wound of your own.
I glanced at his trembling hands, at the Pokémon that had fought for him. Even if wounds can heal, regret never fades so easily.
When he finally spoke again, his voice was softer. "In this condition… I'll probably need to stay at the Pokémon Center for a few days. So please… help me out instead."
Then he introduced himself — an instructor from the Pokémon Trainer School.
He explained that the school helped young trainers — future challengers and coordinators — learn how to live with Pokémon, to travel with them, and to truly understand them. Not every child left home to chase badges, but all needed to learn what it meant to care for their partners. Pokémon had hearts — and power — and mishandling either could lead to disaster.
This time, he said, a group of students from other regions had come to Kanto to learn about its Pokémon and habitats.
Listening to him, I realized what he was asking: he wanted me to guide them. To show those kids the wonder and heart of Pokémon.
Maybe I was the right person for that — someone who'd lived, remembered, and learned from both this life and the last. People grow older, but what they really collect is wisdom. And sometimes, passing that wisdom on is the only way to make peace with your own mistakes.
Teaching couldn't be that hard… right?
"We need to show them," he said, "the beauty of Pokémon technology."
The words stopped me in my tracks.
The beauty… of technology?
Battles had always been about strength, tactics, and willpower. But beauty? That was new. Unexpected. Intriguing.
He explained that, while places like Kanto and Johto hadn't yet embraced it, other regions held Pokémon Contests — dazzling displays of grace, charm, and creativity, where trainers showcased their Pokémon's beauty instead of raw power.
Suddenly, everything made sense — the puddles on the road, the wet, muddy trail. He'd been practicing with his Water-type Pokémon for a contest.
He probably thought I already knew about contests, since I carried Pokémon from other regions. But… truthfully, I didn't have a clue. Still, I couldn't exactly admit that now.
Do my Pokémon even know what beauty is? They've always fought with strength, not style.
"It was my mistake," I murmured, "so it's my responsibility to clean it up."
Maybe I said it out of guilt. Maybe I just wanted to make things right. Either way, I could feel the weight of it settle in my chest.
He didn't scold me. He could have — but instead, he gave me a tired, grateful look. That alone felt like mercy.
By the time Happiness and the others finished treating his Pokémon, the trainer quietly recalled them and headed toward the Pokémon Center.
And then, just like that… the world was silent again.
[Hehe. So this is how it turned out, huh?]
Happiness' voice was teasing, light — a faint sparkle of mischief against the heavy air.
"I don't even know myself," I sighed, watching the puddles ripple under my feet.
I opened my Pokémon PC. The word "beauty" echoed in my mind, over and over. Beauty of movement, of light, of spirit…
I'd never seen a real Pokémon Contest — only the ones that existed in the games of my past life. But children… children are pure. Their eyes see magic where adults see tricks. For them, even a flicker of color can feel like a miracle.
So maybe… maybe I could do this.
"Don't overthink it," I whispered. "Just make it shine."
After all, I have plenty of Pokémon — and a heart full of imagination.
So I closed my eyes, reaching deep into the memories of my past life… searching for something truly beautiful.
Starting with Pikachu — the symbol of the Pokémon world.
Then that ninja Pokémon, the one who'd stolen first place in the 720th General Election.
I've had so many partners through the years… countless friends, each carrying their own spark. Because of that, the range of what I've seen — and felt — stretches wider than the sky itself.
So… what would be the best way to show beauty?
I let my mind drift — to glittering city lights viewed from a high tower…
To the gentle shimmer of waves on an island shore…
To the vast fjords beneath the curtain of the Northern Lights.
That was it. I could recreate that. Not just with light, but with feeling — a dream where Pokémon and nature became one.
Imagine flowers blooming in every hue, golden air dancing with motes of light like fairies, trees whispering in soft color.
It wasn't about flashiness. It was about enchantment — beauty so pure it makes you forget to breathe.
And maybe… maybe I could go even further. Legendary Pokémon — beings of myth and awe — their mere presence turned reality into legend. If I could summon one, it would be like showing the children a living dream.
Their innocence would make it divine.
So yes. Let's make it grand. Let's cheat, just a little, with wonder.
"Alright," I murmured with a grin. "Let's start in the Hoenn region… and summon Rayquaza."
The sky serpent, ruler of the heavens — its emerald scales shimmering like starlight in motion.
"Now then," I said softly, excitement bubbling in my chest, "who else should join this celestial show…?"