Ten minutes later, Ash returned riding Pidgeot. He barely had time to catch his breath before urging Rebecca to take him straight to the tournament registration site.
On the way, Misty and Brock finally had the chance to ask what he'd gone off to do.
"I just went to switch out a Pokémon," Ash said casually.
The two of them exchanged a glance, then it hit them.
If Ash wasn't planning to use Riolu, that could only mean one thing.
"He went to get Primeape," Brock said, nodding.
"Of course!" Misty realized. "Among Ash's Fighting-types, there's only Riolu and Primeape. If he's not using Riolu, it has to be Primeape!"
Rebecca led them to a makeshift arena built beside the road, where Ash quickly submitted his trainer registration and Pokémon information.
Even Ash hadn't expected what happened next.
The moment his information was entered, the staff's eyes went wide.Word spread through the organizing team in seconds, the Ash was registering for their little fighting competition.
By now, Ash's name was starting to spread across Kanto.
In less than two months since beginning his journey, he'd defeated five Gyms, including the infamous Saffron Gym, known as one of the toughest in the region!
Rumors from Vermilion City claimed that he'd gone head-to-head with a Gym Leader's Professional-level Pokémon, and won.
Then, barely a month into his journey, he'd somehow overcome the "monster Trainer" of Saffron City.
Even his later victory at the Celadon Gym, normally a major accomplishment, seemed almost routine in comparison.
Clearing five Gyms in under two months was nothing short of extraordinary.
The tournament organizers instantly realized what they had on their hands, and what it meant for ticket sales. Within minutes, the entire staff was reworking their marketing strategy.
The next morning, when Ash arrived at the entrance to the P1 Grand Prix arena, he stopped dead in his tracks.
Hanging over the gate was a massive banner that read:
"Genius Rookie Trainer Ash Enters the P1 Fighting Tournament! Five Gym Badges in Two Months, Strength Suspected to Be Champion Level!"
Ash stared up at it, dumbfounded.
"You've got to be kidding me," he muttered. "Champion level?! Who started that rumor? I'm not that strong!"
Misty tried not to laugh. "Well, technically you did beat the Saffron Gym…"
Ash groaned. "Yeah, but that doesn't mean I'm Champion tier!" He marched over to the registration desk. "Who came up with that nonsense?!"
The staff sheepishly explained that the claim was the organizers' own "inference."
Since Ash had defeated the Saffron Gym, whose true strength was said to be on par with Champion-level Trainers, they simply "connected the dots."
No matter what method he'd used, a win was a win. Therefore… Champion level.
"With organizers this shameless," he sighed, "no wonder the whole thing's so overhyped."
Resisting the urge to facepalm, he handed over his final verification and entered the arena.
Despite being a "bush-league" event, the stands were packed to bursting.
Apparently, good marketing really could make anything look grand.And with their new headliner, "Champion-level Trainer Ash", the organizers had hit the jackpot.
By morning, even the standing tickets had sold out. Truly, marketing geniuses.
Inside, the contestants were required to have their Pokémon by their side.
Ash released Primeape, the same one he'd retrieved the day before, and immediately spotted a few familiar faces: Hitmonchan.
The moment Hitmonchan saw Ash, his confident expression wavered. His shoulders tensed, and his eyes filled with disbelief.
That kid again?!
He remembered yesterday's battle vividly, how Riolu had dodged every punch, struck precisely, and left him powerless. Even though Riolu had seemed exhausted, the reality was that Hitmonchan hadn't landed a single clean hit.
That memory still stung.
But this time, Ash wasn't accompanied by Riolu. The Pokémon at his side was different, bulkier, radiating raw power.
A Primeape.
From the energy it exuded alone, Hitmonchan could tell this one was far stronger physically.
Still, Riolu's strength came from its technique, not raw might. If this Primeape lacked that same finesse, maybe, he had a chance.
Yeah, he told himself. If it's not Riolu… I can win this one.
He forced a confident grin in Ash's direction. Ash blinked, slightly puzzled, and smiled politely back.
Looking around, Ash couldn't help but feel surprised.
He'd expected a tournament filled only with Fighting-types, but then he saw a Geodude proudly shadowboxing nearby.
"Wait… a Geodude? Really?" he muttered. "What, just because it has fists?"
He sighed. "This might be even less official than I thought."
"Alright!" the announcer's voice boomed through the speakers. "The annual P1 Grand Prix is about to begin!"
"The entire competition will take place in a single day! Contestants must battle through round after round until one stands victorious! This is not only a test of power, but of will!"
"The winner will be crowned Kanto's Strongest Fighter, and receive the P1 Gold Championship Belt!"
"Now, trainers and Pokémon alike, give it everything you've got!"
The crowd roared as the matches began, their cheers shaking the stadium. Trainers and Pokémon shouted their own battle cries, full of fighting spirit.
Ash joined in the chant with a grin, but his sharp eyes were already scanning the field.
He carefully studied the aura and presence of every strong-looking Pokémon nearby, mentally noting the opponents he'd likely face.
As Ash scanned the arena, his Aura sight told him everything he needed to know.
Among all the competitors, the strongest Pokémon present was Anthony's Hitmonchan.
A Hitmonlee matched it in power, but beyond those two, the rest were only at the advanced level, none had reached the peak.
Still, Ash knew from experience that a battle wasn't decided by levels alone.
He'd fought and won against stronger opponents many times.
Judging by the Trainers' command skills and their Pokémon's response times, none of them seemed particularly refined.
Ash's eyes gleamed with confidence. Eighty percent chance of winning, easily.
But just winning wasn't enough this time.
He had to completely shatter Anthony's confidence, to wake him up from the dream that had consumed his life. To do that, he would need more than brute force; he would need tactics.
The tournament began with roaring cheers from the crowd.
Round after round blazed across the stage, fists flying, bodies crashing, dirt flying, the kind of wild energy that thrilled the spectators.
In truth, though, there were only a handful of real contenders. The truly advanced-level fighters could be counted on one hand, and even they weren't much to speak of.
The P1 Grand Prix was, in short, a festival of mediocrity, "a bunch of chickens pecking at each other," Ash thought wryly.
His Elite-level Primeape towered over the field. Every punch, every step, every shout of "Primeape!" sent his opponents flying.
He didn't even need to draw on Aura Fusion.
Even a top advanced-level Hitmonlee couldn't withstand more than a few exchanges before being knocked out cold.
It had been a long time since Ash had fought in such a low-intensity competition.
Still, the crowd loved it.
Primeape, too, was in high spirits, not because the opponents were strong, but because he was finally allowed to fight with his own fists, without restraint.
Victory after victory filled him with joy, his battle cries growing louder with each round.
By contrast, Anthony's path to the finals was far more strained. His Hitmonchan won every match, yes, but each fight left it more battered and bruised.
Anthony's strategy was cautious and conservative, effective, but hardly exciting.
Compared to Ash's explosive, crowd-pleasing matches, Anthony's fights were subdued and grinding. And while Anthony was a seasoned martial artist, he wasn't a seasoned Trainer.
Ash had spent months under the mentorship of masters, honing strategy, timing, and the flow of Aura, while Anthony relied mostly on instinct and experience.
So by the time they both reached the finals, Hitmonchan was worn down, while Primeape had lost only a bit of stamina.
"I knew it," Anthony said, standing below the ring as the cheers swelled.
"I had a feeling I'd meet you again in the finals. You're Ash, right? The rising star I've been hearing about."
He looked around at the crowd, then back at the boy who had bested him once already.
He'd overheard the whispers during his matches, about Ash's incredible progress, the badges, the Gym victories.
Two months.
Two months of travel had brought Ash to a level that Anthony hadn't reached in three long years.
The thought stung.
So this was talent, the kind that no amount of ordinary effort could match. But Anthony clenched his fists. No. He wouldn't back down. Not here, not today.
"Today," he said, "I'll prove that even someone like me, a plain, ordinary fighter, can surpass an Elite trainee! I'll be the P1 Champion!"
Ash met his gaze. His expression softened, then turned serious."Mr. Anthony," he said quietly, "there's nothing wrong with chasing your dream. But when that dream hurts the people waiting for you back home… maybe it's time to rethink what you're fighting for."
He took a deep breath, his tone steady but resolute.
"In this battle… I'll make you understand."
Ash closed his eyes for a second. His voice dropped to a whisper.
"Aura… within my heart."
The moment he spoke, a surge of energy rippled through Primeape.His muscles tensed, his breathing sharpened, the world seemed to slow around him.
"Praaaiime!"
It wasn't just raw strength. His senses expanded, his perception sharpened. Every movement, every sound, all of it connected through the pulse of Ash's Aura.
If Primeape had entered this state earlier, he might've swept through the entire tournament without taking a single hit.
Ash raised a hand. "Come at me, Mr. Anthony."
Anthony hesitated, startled by the calm in Ash's voice.
But even as the words left his mouth, he realized Ash's words had unsettled him that flicker of distraction, that split-second of hesitation.
And in a battle, that was all it took for the tide to turn.
But Ash didn't order a counterattack.
Instead, he simply stood calmly on the trainer's platform and said, "Mr. Anthony, please, have Hitmonchan attack first."
Anthony blinked. He hadn't expected that response, but after a moment's hesitation, he pushed all distractions aside.
"Hitmonchan! Let's go!"
Hitmonchan lunged forward, crimson gloves flashing as his fists blurred into a storm of afterimages.
A barrage of punches filled Primeape's vision, yet Primeape slowly, deliberately, closed his eyes.
The host's voice erupted across the stadium:
"Hitmonchan launches the first assault, but what's this?! Primeape… Primeape has closed its eyes! Is it surrendering already?!
Unbelievable!"
The crowd burst into an uproar.
Close your eyes, in a fighting match?
Was this arrogance, mockery… or suicide?
But before the audience's jeers could even build momentum, Primeape moved.
With fluid precision, it tilted its body just a fraction to the left, letting Hitmonchan's fist brush past its cheek.
Then another sway, another step, each motion minimal, effortless.Punch after punch tore through the air, but not a single one touched Primeape.
"Oh my! Dear viewers, are you seeing this?!" the host shouted, voice cracking with excitement.
"Primeape, eyes closed, is dodging every single attack! This is unbelievable! This is a miracle!"
Hitmonchan's fists blurred so fast that they seemed to multiply, leaving a forest of red shadows in front of Primeape.
Yet not one landed.
Watching helplessly, Anthony felt a cold sweat run down his neck.
He remembered this feeling, the same hopeless, suffocating sense of being read like an open book, the same fear he'd felt yesterday when Riolu had danced around his every punch.
But that had been different.
Yesterday, Riolu had used Detect.
A special move that read the flow of energy, predicting attacks.
Yet now, Primeape hadn't used any move at all. It had simply closed its eyes.
And still, it was untouchable.
Could the gap between them really be that enormous?
Hitmonchan finally stopped, gasping for breath. He raised his guard, expecting a counter at any moment.
But Primeape stood perfectly still.
Silent.
Unmoving.
"Anthony," Ash's voice carried across the field, calm and unhurried. "Is that all you've got? Hitmonchan still has strength left, doesn't he? Let him keep going."
Anthony froze.
Ash's eyes were closed too.
'He knows… even without looking?'
Primeape lifted one fist and motioned toward Hitmonchan, a subtle, taunting gesture, 'come again.'
A vein pulsed in Anthony's forehead.
Was this boy mocking him?
"Hitmonchan, use Close Combat!"
Hitmonchan roared and charged. His fists flew faster than before, the air cracking from the force.
But no matter how furious the flurry, every punch struck only empty air.
Primeape's movements were impossibly smooth, as though the battle itself slowed down for him. Not even a strand of fur was touched.
The host's voice trembled.
"Unbelievable! Hitmonchan's Close Combat can't even graze Primeape! Ladies and gentlemen, this is beyond training, this is instinct, this is… mastery!"
Punches rained down like a storm, but as the seconds dragged on, Hitmonchan's power waned.
His footwork faltered, his breathing grew ragged, and finally, with a heavy thud, he dropped to one knee, drenched in sweat, fists trembling.
Primeape hadn't moved for the last five seconds.
It just stood there, eyes closed, breathing steady. Untouched.
Anthony's lips trembled.
All his confidence, all his pride, gone. What had he been thinking before? That this Primeape would be easier than that Riolu?
Easier, my foot.
This wasn't just another strong opponent. This was a monster far beyond his reach.
...
Bonus @200
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