"Hello, Miss Caroline," Peter said politely.
"I was hoping to visit Mr. Norman. Would that be convenient?"
Caroline froze for a moment, then covered her mouth and laughed.
"Oh my~ I'm already well into my thirties, you know. Calling me 'Miss' is dangerously charming," she teased warmly.
"Come in, come in. Norman's home right now."
She turned and led the way inside.
Peter rubbed his nose and followed.
Figures.
A little politeness still goes a long way.
"Norman, there's a young man here looking for you!"
At Caroline's call, Norman returned from the backyard, carrying a bucket of Pokémon food. When he saw Peter, his brows lifted slightly.
"May I ask what business you have with me?"
Facing the man before him, Peter felt a trace of nervousness.
His goal was simple.
Obtain a high-potential Slakoth, and—if possible—learn Norman's training methods for the Slaking line.
As a longtime Pokémon fan, Peter knew this much for certain:
Norman's Slaking had, to a degree, overcome the Truant Ability.
And that secret was something he never taught lightly.
To succeed, Peter would need Norman's approval.
"Mr. Norman," Peter said, deliberately lowering his posture as he spoke,
"My name is Peter. My goal is to become a Normal-type Pokémon Master. I hope you'll allow me to stay by your side and learn for a time. Please—accept me as your student."
With that, Peter bowed deeply.
…
Silence.
Norman didn't respond right away. He simply studied Peter for a long moment before finally speaking.
"You say your goal is to become a Normal-type Master," he said calmly.
"That's quite an ambitious claim. Where's your Pokémon? Let me see it."
"…Ah."
Peter's lips twitched as he answered honestly.
"I haven't caught a Pokémon yet."
Norman frowned.
"Judging by your age, you're close to twenty, aren't you? Starting the Trainer's path this late is… not realistic. I'd advise you to find a stable job instead."
Peter fell silent.
He knew Norman was right.
The odds of success on this path were painfully low.
But dreams had never been about probability.
Peter's eyes hardened with resolve. He bowed again—deeper than before.
"Please give me a chance. I swear I'll learn with everything I have."
He could have spoken about his past.
About his hardships.
About Whitney.
About Goldenrod Gym.
He could have earned sympathy.
But he didn't.
Perhaps it was foolish pride.
Or perhaps—
This was simply Peter's backbone.
Norman's gaze shifted.
In the young man's eyes, he saw something rare.
Possibility.
Still, Norman was preparing for an Elite Four challenge, and had no intention of spending excessive time mentoring a student. He shook his head slightly.
"I'm sorry. Please—"
Before he could finish, Caroline gently cut in.
"Peter, your accent sounds familiar," she said kindly.
"Where are you from?"
As she spoke, she shot Norman a subtle look.
Norman sighed inwardly.
He knew his wife couldn't quite bring herself to crush the young man's hopes so bluntly.
Peter glanced at Caroline, grateful that she'd preserved his dignity.
"I'm from Goldenrod City in the Johto region."
"Oh? That's such a coincidence," Caroline said with a smile.
"We lived in Goldenrod City for a while before moving here. I suppose that makes us old neighbors."
She began chatting casually with Peter, and he played along.
But he knew.
This apprenticeship was already over.
Caroline was just trying to ease the awkwardness.
Norman shook his head and turned, preparing to head back to the greenhouse—
When suddenly, a small pink Pokémon darted out from the backyard.
Seeing a stranger in the house, the lively little creature leapt straight onto Peter's shoulder.
"Skkiii~!"
It bounced twice on his head before losing its footing and tumbling straight into his arms.
"Skitty! That's rude—come down this instant!" Caroline said, reaching out.
Peter froze.
He recognized it immediately.
This was Skitty—the same playful Skitty May caught.
"It's okay," Peter laughed. "It's pretty cute~"
He reached out to pet it—
But Skitty nimbly dodged, leaping onto Peter's backpack instead.
It sniffed.
Its eyes sparkled.
Food!
"Skki—!"
Starlight burst from its tail—
Swift!
"Vigoroth, intercept it!" Norman immediately threw a Poké Ball.
But before the attack could land—
A red light flashed from Peter's backpack.
A Miltank stepped forward and gently pressed a hoof against Skitty's forehead, stopping the move cold.
"Moo~"
With a warm smile, it pulled out a bottle of MooMoo Milk and handed it to Skitty.
The little Pokémon's eyes lit up as it happily opened the cap and began drinking.
"…That's Uncle Howard's Miltank," Norman said instantly, recognizing it.
"Uncle Howard?" Caroline echoed. "As in—Whitney's grandfather?"
Howard was Whitney's grandfather's name.
Norman frowned.
"Young man… what's your relationship with Uncle Howard?"
Howard's partner Pokémon was not something he'd casually entrust to an outsider.
And Norman certainly didn't remember Howard having a grandson.
Peter gave a wry smile and explained the Miltank's story.
Upon hearing that it was temporarily entrusted by Whitney, both Norman and Caroline relaxed, their expressions softening with sorrow at the mention of Howard's passing.
"Mr. Norman, Miss Caroline," Peter said politely, bowing once more.
"Thank you for your time today. I'll take my leave."
He turned to go.
"Wait."
Norman stopped him.
"If you're someone Whitney acknowledges, then I'll give you a chance."
Peter looked up.
"…A chance?"
"You battle me," Norman said calmly.
"Your Miltank against my Vigoroth. Regardless of the result—if your process satisfies me, I'll take you as my student. What do you say?"
Peter turned toward the Pokémon at Norman's side.
Vigoroth ♂ – Lv.54 (Gym-tier · Intermediate)
…
One level higher than Miltank.
But not unbeatable.
"Alright."
A confidence Peter had never felt before surged through him.
Though he'd never commanded a real battle in this world—
In his past life, he'd logged thousands of hours in Pokémon games.
Battling was his absolute specialty.
…..
Moments later, Peter and Norman stood on opposite sides of the battlefield.
Caroline stepped into the referee's position.
"Now commencing a one-on-one battle between Peter of Goldenrod City and Petalburg Gym Leader Norman!
Each side may use one Pokémon. The battle—begin!"
Both threw their Poké Balls simultaneously.
"Vigoroth, prepare for battle!"
"Let's go, Miltank!"
As the fight began, Peter recalled this world's battle rules.
Just like the later generations of the anime—
Official matches limited each Pokémon to four selected moves.
Exceeding that number meant immediate disqualification.
Over time, even the anime had fully adopted this rule—unlike Ash's early Kanto days.
(If memory served, Drake's Dragonite in the Orange Islands once used eleven moves. Completely absurd.)
Before coming to this world, Peter never understood the restriction.
After all, Pokémon could learn so many moves—limiting them felt like it dulled the excitement.
But now—
He finally understood why.