At the Pokémon Center near the tournament stadium, Ash sat beside Gary, who was quietly tending to his injured Pokémon.
"How are they doing?" Ash asked, keeping his voice gentle.
Gary forced a smile. "They're stable. If it weren't for that Full Restore Capsule, they'd be recovering for months. What about you? Ready for your match?"
Ash shrugged slightly. "I'm fine. And… don't blame yourself. Makoto used his father's Pokémon. Losing under those conditions is nothing to be ashamed of. But the way he did it—" his eyes hardened, "—that was low."
Gary didn't answer immediately. The defeat had shaken him—heir to the Oak family, beaten so abruptly. He exhaled slowly.
"I'm not upset about losing," Gary said. "I just didn't expect to stop in the quarterfinals. But you—your match is in two days. Be ready. Makoto doesn't hold back. He aims to crush people."
Ash's voice lowered. Cold. Sharp.
"Oh, I know. This time, he won't be the one walking away confident. And as for those Pokémon he borrowed—his father won't be proud of what's coming."
Before Gary could respond, a firm voice cut in:
"That's exactly how it should be."
Masaki Oak, Gary's father, strode toward them, expression stern with anger barely contained.
"Ito Sawagoe really thinks sending his son into Kanto with his Pokémon makes him untouchable? The arrogance."
Ash faced him and nodded once. "Don't worry, Uncle Masaki. I'll make sure he learns what happens when he provokes people he shouldn't."
Masaki's frustration eased somewhat. He knew Ash's strength—everyone did. Even if Makoto used Sawagoe's strongest Pokémon, the outcome wouldn't change. Against Ash, even veteran champions had only even odds.
Soon, several other young heirs from Kanto's major families arrived.
Gary smirked at Nobuo Nojima. "Hoping you've recovered yet? Or are you still in shock?"
Nobuo groaned dramatically. "Don't remind me. Getting flattened that hard should be illegal. Makoto fights like a demon."
Laughter eased some of the tension in the room.
Ferb Ignatius glanced around. "Where's Joe? His Pokémon were injured too. Shouldn't he be here?"
Gary's expression softened. "Grandfather called him back. He took it hard—maybe worse than I did. Ash gave him a Full Restore Capsule, though, so his Pokémon are okay."
Everyone turned to Ash with a look of mixed respect and disbelief.
Those capsules weren't something even wealthy families saw often—the Oak household only sold a few each month, and that was after research approval.
"Anyway," Ferb asked, "Ash—are you confident for the semifinals?"
Ash smiled—not the bright, carefree one they were used to—something colder, tempered in fire.
"Confident? I'm prepared. This time, Makoto's Pokémon won't leave unscathed. And…" He leaned in slightly, voice lowering with something almost playful. "I'll show you one of my other aces—besides my Legendary Pokémon."
Nobuo blinked. "Aces? But we already know the roster—Dragonite, Suicune, Charizard, Scizor, Tyranitar, Arcanine, Pidgeot, Steelix, Pikachu—none of those are exactly… hidden."
Ash shook his head slowly.
"No. There's one more. My Venusaur. Among all my Pokémon except Suicune and Dragonite—Venusaur's power stands at the very top. Even Pikachu can't match it when Venusaur fights seriously."
Silence.
Then:
"…you were hiding that from the League on purpose, weren't you?"
Ash only smiled.
"Venusaur? You're serious?"
Ferb Ignatius blinked, genuinely confused. "I mean, sure, your Venusaur is strong… but calling it one of your aces?" He crossed his arms. "Isn't that pushing it? Charizard and Arcanine both counter it directly. And Venusaur's mobility isn't exactly impressive. It's bulky. Slow. Straightforward. Against fast attackers, it's practically a stationary target."
Several of the others nodded. Cynthia included. To them, Venusaur was a well-known species, not a rarity. Strong, yes—but predictable.
Ash didn't argue. He simply smiled.
"Yes. That's what everyone thinks—because they've only ever seen normal Venusaur."
Gary exhaled softly. He'd seen it. He already knew.
Ash continued, voice calm:
"Your assumption comes from seeing Venusaur fight like a typical Grass-type—roots, vines, spores, Solar Beam. That's not my Venusaur."
He looked at them one by one.
"You've never seen Venusaur when it uses Mokuton. The moment Venusaur releases Cell Activation and the forest grows with it… speed stops being an issue. The opponent can't move. The battlefield becomes mine."
Silence fell.
Even Ferb found himself unable to answer.
Everyone knew Ash had a terrifying level of control over Aura, and that several of his Pokémon had undergone unique growth and training—but the idea of Venusaur wielding a battlefield-shaping style like Mokuton was something else entirely.
"That's why Venusaur is my ace," Ash said quietly. "Not because of type matchups. Not because of rarity. But because when Venusaur fights seriously—"
His expression sharpened.
"—the arena belongs to us."
No one spoke after that.
Because they understood.
This wasn't about what Venusaur was.
It was about what Ash had turned it into.
...
TN:
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