After the battle at the Gym ended, Brock still seemed to be riding the wave of excitement—and perhaps even a bit of fondness toward Alex. He didn't let Alex leave right away, insisting instead that he come over to his house for a visit.
The walk from Pewter Gym to Brock's house wasn't far—barely ten minutes on foot. Evening had already begun to fall, the sky painted in soft lilac with a fading wash of golden sunlight. After a long day of travel and battling, Alex felt the fatigue settling in, and his stomach was starting to complain. Brock's invitation could not have come at a better time.
Brock's home sat in a quiet residential district. The exterior had a sturdy, grounded look, built from the region's signature gray stone. Alex had imagined that a rugged, battle-hardened man like Brock would live in a somewhat messy space—but when he stepped inside, he was taken aback. Everything was neatly arranged, spotlessly clean, as if its owner paid careful attention to even the smallest details.
Brock didn't waste words. After inviting Alex to sit, he headed straight into the kitchen to start preparing dinner. The rhythmic clack of the knife soon filled the air, followed by the fragrant aroma of sizzling onions drifting out. Alex was not the type to sit idly while his host busied himself. Spotting a basket of vegetables, he picked some up and brought them to the sink.
"Let me lend a hand," Alex said with a smile, rolling up his sleeves.
Brock hesitated for a beat before scratching the back of his head, chuckling awkwardly. "Haha, well, thanks. I appreciate it."
The kitchen quickly warmed with the easy, companionable rhythm of shared work—the sound of running water blending with the steady chop of the knife, the smell of food growing richer with each passing moment. The space between host and guest seemed to shrink noticeably.
When dinner was ready, they both sat down at the table. Under the warm glow of the lamp, Brock's expression shifted to something more serious. He set down his chopsticks.
"Alex, I'm good at breeding and training Rock-type Pokémon—as you saw today. But Rock-types are usually slow. Against quick opponents like yours, they get forced into a defensive position too easily. Do you have any advice for increasing their speed while keeping their high defensive power intact?"
Alex took a slow sip of tea. He had a good impression of Brock—an upright man dedicated to his Pokémon—and didn't hesitate to answer.
"There's a move called Rock Polish, which I'm sure you already know about. It boosts a Rock-type's speed during battle."
Brock nodded at once, but his expression didn't brighten. Alex continued with a faint smile.
"The problem is… Rock Polish isn't very practical. Even if it doubles their speed, Rock-types start so slow that it barely matters. Take Rhydon, for example—its base speed is only 10. Double that, and you still only have 20—slower than plenty of other Pokémon even without boosts."
He set his cup down and went on.
"On top of that, using Rock Polish costs a turn. During that turn, your Pokémon could be taking hits. And if your opponent has a type advantage, you risk eating a devastating blow before you even get the chance to counter. The risk is huge."
Brock stayed silent, waiting for Alex to offer another solution.
"Instead of focusing on speed," Alex said slowly, "I think two other moves would work better: Sandstorm and Stealth Rock."
Brock's eyes lit up instantly. "Could you elaborate?"
"Sandstorm creates an environment that works in favor of Rock-types. Their defenses are strengthened in the storm, making them harder to take down. That helps offset the speed gap I mentioned."
"As for Stealth Rock, it's like an invisible trap that chips away at your opponent every time they switch Pokémon. If you combine the two—pressuring with the battlefield itself while limiting your opponent's ability to switch—you gain a huge advantage. Of the three factors—time, terrain, and the trainer—you'll have 'terrain' and 'trainer' firmly in your grasp."
Brock sat still for a few seconds, then exhaled a deep, excited breath. Alex's advice felt like a new door opening in his tactical thinking.
The conversation seemed set to stay on strategy, but Alex suddenly changed the subject.
"Brock, I've heard you tend to use your strongest Pokémon against Gym challengers. Why is that?"
Brock's face clouded slightly. He spoke slowly.
"Part of it is to learn faster by facing strong opponents. But the bigger reason… is that I'm looking for allies to fight against Team Rocket."
Alex blinked in surprise. "Team Rocket?"
Brock nodded, his tone heavy. "You've probably heard of them. They've always operated in the shadows—illegal Pokémon trafficking, every kind of dirty work. But lately, they've grown bolder than ever. I once ran into a Rocket squad in Viridian Forest. They were hauling strange equipment deep inside. I tried to follow them, but they spotted me, and their leader—a man named Lance—defeated me completely. If I hadn't escaped quickly, I wouldn't be sitting here right now."
Alex fell silent. He remembered hearing about Rocket-related trouble just a few days ago. With a quiet sigh, he murmured, "Kanto really is in chaos… and Team Rocket's strength is no joke."
There was a flicker of hesitation in Brock's eyes, as if he wanted to say something but wasn't sure how. Alex picked up on it and spoke first.
"Before coming to Pewter, I met Misty in Cerulean. She hates Team Rocket just as much. I promised her that if she needed help, I wouldn't turn her down. If you're willing… I think you've already got two allies."
Brock's eyes lit up, the tension in his face melting away. He nodded firmly, a sincere smile spreading across his lips.