"...I have something to attend to. I'll be going ahead."
Aya watched Koga's retreating figure and couldn't quite shake the feeling that something was off.
From a ninja's perspective, a ninja obeyed their leader. But from a family member's perspective, a younger sister would always worry about her older brother. Besides — what era were they living in? There was no need to cling rigidly to the ninja's code at every turn.
At least, that was how Aya felt.
"Janine, these three are honored guests — please take good care of them from here on."
Aya turned and gave Janine her instructions.
"Understood, Auntie," Janine replied with a nod.
After all, the two of them had been quietly keeping an eye on Ash, Brock, and Misty for days now. With Koga giving no indication otherwise, they would have to extend the highest standard of hospitality to all three.
"Farewell, Miss Aya~!" Brock called out at full volume toward her retreating back.
Aya was exactly the kind of big sister who fell squarely in Brock's strike zone — and her temperament was genuinely pleasant, too. At least compared to the scheming Lady Erika or the split-personality Sabrina, she was leagues better.
"...Grow up. Grow up already..."
Misty stepped up behind Brock — and jabbed a single finger precisely into his kidney.
"Ow——!" Brock let out a cry of anguish.
It wasn't exactly painful. It was just so sudden that his body couldn't help reacting.
"Ha ha ha. Sorry to impose on you, Janine." Ash looked down at the badge now resting in his palm — the sixth, the Soul Badge, the symbol of his victory over the Poison-type master Koga. More than half of his journey through Kanto was behind him now.
Looking at it from where he stood, there was still plenty of time ahead. No need to rush off immediately.
A journey without getting lost — it really was smooth sailing.
"It's no imposition at all," Janine said. She herself found it strange that her father had been in such a hurry to leave right after awarding the Badge. Under normal circumstances, Koga didn't just melt into the shadows and vanish while moving around his own Gym. That kind of thing was deeply unsettling.
And if Koga resorted to doing it anyway, it meant he had good reason to.
So what exactly had happened?
Though the question weighed on her, the spirited Janine said nothing more about it. The ninja's code demanded discretion — say nothing that didn't need to be said, ask nothing that didn't need to be asked.
That was the way of the ninja!
Stepping into her father Koga's role, Janine took over the duties of host with warmth and attentiveness, beginning to show Ash, Brock, and Misty the deeper reaches of Fuchsia Gym.
Under Janine's guidance, the three of them were able to explore far further into the Gym's interior than most visitors ever got to see.
...Being given a proper tour of a ninja dojo — one that was, in theory, supposed to conceal a thousand secrets — was a genuinely rare occurrence. Ninjas generally didn't operate in the open, after all. Like Koga himself, they preferred to remain hidden in the shadows.
It wasn't until the tour began that the full scope of the place became apparent. This was far more than a simple battle facility. This was the Ninja Village of Fuchsia City — a place where a considerable number of people actively trained. They were all affiliated with the Gym, all part of the ninja corps under Koga's command that governed Fuchsia City.
They were simultaneously Pokémon Trainers who pursued battle, and practitioners of an ancient and storied art — the two identities woven together seamlessly. Pokémon Trainer was, of course, an extremely broad profession. But those who specialized in it as their sole pursuit were actually a minority; most people held a secondary occupation alongside it.
"Wow... it's so big in here. And it feels..." Misty murmured, her eyes roving over the corridors styled in a classical Japanese garden aesthetic. "...So quiet. So mysterious."
"Now this is what a Gym with genuine depth looks like," Brock said approvingly, his sharp gaze sweeping across every corner.
...These areas looked completely empty on the surface. But Brock had the distinct feeling that something was here.
...Of course, it was also possible he was imagining things. After all, he already knew this was a ninja's domain — so wasn't it perfectly natural for ninjas to be hiding everywhere? If he'd encountered a situation like this out in the wild, his usual instinct would have been to throw a few punches in every direction just to be safe. But this was Fuchsia Gym, so he held back. Best not to have grabby hands.
——Pfft.
A trace of proud amusement crossed Janine's face. She clapped her hands and called out in a clear, carrying voice:
"Everyone — show our guests the Shadow Clone technique!"
This had been arranged in advance as a little demonstration.
The instant the words left her mouth, from every corner of the courtyard — beneath the eaves, behind the decorative rock formations, even rising from the still surface of the pond — more than a dozen silent silhouettes leaped soundlessly into being.
And in that same moment, while Brock, Ash, and Misty's attention was pulled toward this sudden development —
Janine slipped away.
She blended seamlessly into the group.
The ninjas who had appeared so suddenly darted and moved around the courtyard before falling into a crisp, orderly formation. They landed lightly in the center of the garden, planted their feet — and every single one of them raised her head in unison.
The next moment:
"?! How — how are they all Janine?!" Misty couldn't hold back a shocked cry.
Before her stood more than a dozen figures wearing completely identical ninja attire, with matching hairstyles, matching heights, and matching builds. The [Janines] stood arrayed through the courtyard, their postures and expressions replicated with such uncanny precision that it was like looking at a single person reflected across a hall of mirrors.
"Honestly speaking, distinguishing them by sight alone is nearly impossible," Brock said, arms folded, brow slightly furrowed. He was clearly feeling the difficulty of it himself.
Ash blinked. Rather than relying on his eyes immediately, he quietly closed them.
The power of Aura spread outward from him like ripples moving across still water, sweeping gently across each and every [Janine]. In his perception, every living being possessed its own utterly unique "wavelength" — and Janine's, familiar and lively, shone out as clearly as a lantern flame against the dark.
He opened his eyes almost at once and pointed to the second figure from the left.
"The real Janine is right there."
— Aura doesn't lie.
— ...Unless you can actually deceive someone with Aura. In which case, disregard everything I just said.
Misty stared, eyes wide.
She looked at Ash, then looked at the cluster of [Janines], then looked back at Ash again, her expression entirely lost. "Really? How did you even figure that out, Ash? I can't tell them apart at all!"
At that point, Brock took a step forward. His gaze moved across every detail of each figure with the methodical precision of a scanner.
This, after all, was a man who could tell apart the individual members of the near-identical Nurse Joy and Officer Jenny families. The man with golden eyes that missed nothing.
"It's not entirely impossible to distinguish them," he said slowly.
"The ninja's disguise is meticulous — but there are extremely subtle differences in the texture between cosmetics and bare skin, especially in how they reflect light and shadow." He continued, gesturing precisely: "Beyond that, long-term training produces distinct muscle definition, and the particular quality of someone's gaze is something that cannot be perfectly replicated..." He pointed to several of the [Janines] in succession. "This one here — this one — and this one."
"The disguise on these individuals still has room to improve. The shading around the outer corners of the eyes is slightly too deliberate, and the skin tone transition around the throat isn't quite seamless."
The few ninjas he had singled out instinctively touched the spots he had identified. Beneath their masks, their expressions were presumably rather pink.
The Janine standing at the position Ash had indicated — the real Janine — let a flash of surprise cross her eyes. She pulled down her mask and addressed the ninjas Brock had called out:
"Did you hear that? More training needed."
"Mister Brock from Pewter City possesses observation skills that are absolutely a match for ours."
And when she said "more training" — she meant quite a lot more training. The grind was going to be real.
---
In the days that followed, Janine served as guide and part-time instructor, leading Ash's group through an immersive experience of Fuchsia Gym's special training regimen.
They learned how to move through and conceal themselves within terrain more efficiently, how to regulate their breathing to sustain extended periods of stillness without depleting their stamina, and how to identify some of the more common trap mechanisms and warning devices.
The Gym also generously provided its secret herbal salves and medicinal baths. These preparations were extraordinarily effective at relieving post-training muscle soreness and accelerating physical recovery — impressive enough that even Brock, an experienced Breeder with considerable knowledge of such things, was left clicking his tongue in genuine admiration.
Brock had, in fact, had an instinctive impulse to analyze the composition of these medicines. He managed to restrain himself from giving in to that impulse. The secret formulas of Fuchsia Gym were, to put it plainly, priceless — not in the sense that they were ruinously expensive, but in the sense that they simply could not be purchased by ordinary means.
Not that reverse-engineering them was impossible in principle. But who, exactly, would have the audacity to try to reverse-engineer a ninja clan's treasured secrets?
Anyone capable of doing it wouldn't need to. Anyone who needed to couldn't manage it.
A rather self-defeating paradox.
---
One of those evenings.
Night had settled in deep. And yet the Gym's outdoor training ground was alive with activity.
The training ground was a small stretch of densely packed forest — trees crowded so close together that even in daytime, almost no sunlight reached the floor beneath them. On a night like this, it was darker still.
"Misdreavus — Shadow Sneak, then follow up with Confuse Ray!" Ash's voice rang out across the field.
Shadow Sneak was a superb move for Ghost-types — allowing the user to travel through shadows and strike from within them. It even had an advanced variant: Shadow Force, the exclusive technique of the Renegade Pokémon, Giratina. While the two shared a similar underlying principle, the sheer difference in output power between them was astronomical.
"Hee hee hee~" Misdreavus let out a string of mischievous laughter, her form blurring and dissolving into the shadows on the ground.
The next instant, a twisting, disorienting beam of light erupted from directly behind and to the side of Janine's Crobat.
"Crobat — Supersonic to locate her, then sweep with Sludge Wave!"
Janine's reaction was razor-sharp. Her Crobat gave its four wings a subtle beat, sending invisible sound waves rippling outward in all directions. Through the ultrasonic feedback, Crobat could lock onto an enemy's position across a sweeping range. The moment it triangulated Misdreavus's location, it opened its mouth — and a wide arc of dark purple sludge swept outward.
Both Crobat and Misdreavus were perfectly in their element in this kind of environment. The difference was that Misdreavus was even more at home in it than Crobat.
Hilarious, honestly.
Crobat, for all its speed in the air, still had to actively dodge the trees and other obstacles in its flight path. Misdreavus could phase straight through all of them. She could even travel through the shadows themselves.
Ghost-type Pokémon simply and completely outclassed any amount of hard-earned ninja effort in this department. It was, in a way, a rather melancholy state of affairs — not entirely unlike how the vast majority of martial artists still couldn't beat a Fighting-type Pokémon in a straight fight.
So in theory, Ghost-types ought to be the ideal partners for ninjas. Though considering that ninjas also needed to administer poisons...
Ash found himself thinking that these ninjas really should be raising more Gastly, Haunter, and Gengar.
A Ghost- and Poison-type dual combination was practically tailor-made for the ninja profession.
Hm?
Wait. Following that line of thought to its conclusion — did that mean Elite Four Agatha was actually the most powerful ninja of all?
In every area where ninjas excelled, Agatha outperformed them completely... No wonder Koga had never managed to claim a seat among the Elite Four in Kanto. His specialty had simply been comprehensively outshone.
Of course, that was only Ash's own idle thought.
Generally speaking — Ghost-type Pokémon were genuinely difficult to catch and even harder to get along with. Among all types of specialists, pure Ghost-type Trainers were the rarest category. Even Trainers who did include Ghost-types on their teams usually opted for those whose secondary typing wasn't Ghost.
Fuchsia Gym's preference for moths, bats, and insects as their ninja partners was surely rooted in long-standing tradition. This was simply how it had always been — ninjas had always worked alongside these particular kinds of Pokémon.
The Pokémon League itself hadn't existed for all that many years. Modern Poké Balls were a newer invention still. The profession of Pokémon Trainer was, in the grand sweep of history, an entirely new kind of occupation.
---
Ash moved quickly through the forest of the training ground.
This sparring match didn't follow the League's official standard battle format — it incorporated elements of an informal wild-style fight as well, including in particular how a Trainer navigated the battlefield to dodge stray attacks and find the right moment to issue commands.
Even in official League duels, attacks often wound up threatening the Trainer themselves. A Pokémon released from its ball tends to stand directly between its Trainer and the opposing Pokémon — and when an attack comes flying in, the question of whether to dodge or tank it falls on the Pokémon. But if the Pokémon dodges —
— then the Trainer standing behind it is on their own.
Furthermore, when two Pokémon clash with full force in the arena, the shockwaves and residual energy tend to spread outward. The spectator stands usually have energy barriers for protection. The Trainer standing on the field does not.
Janine moved like a shadow-cat, weaving through the trees, occasionally flicking an unsharpened shuriken to disrupt Ash's rhythm. The two of them traded rapid exchanges, bodies flickering past each other, commands flying, bursts of energy lighting the darkness in brief, vivid flashes.
Misdreavus was everywhere and nowhere at once, using her Ghost-type nature to harass and destabilize. Crobat countered with sheer speed and flight control, threading through each crisis moment by moment.
But for all its intensity, both the Pokémon techniques and the physical exchanges between the Trainers were kept firmly within the limits of a friendly sparring session. The exchanges were brilliant and the situations were harrowing — but there was no genuine danger.
This wasn't a real fight. It was closer to an exhibition match — a performance born of mutual understanding. The two of them went back and forth, each responding to the other, finding and creating openings, with a wordless, instinctive harmony running underneath all of it.
This was its own kind of bond forged through battle — a meeting of hearts through the language of combat.
Ash seemed to have a particular gift for this — transmitting his will through the act of fighting itself.
Ash: Can you feel it?
Ash: This is a genuinely wonderful fight!
Janine: Your conviction... it's extraordinary.
Janine: Why... why do I feel like I almost understand something...?
---
Beyond the boundaries of Ash and Janine's sparring field, at the observation seats along the edge of the training ground —
Misty sat with the well-behaved Pikachu cradled in her arms. Brock sat beside her with an equally well-behaved Vulpix in his.
Pikachu watched the match with keen, entertained eyes, the electric pouches on his cheeks occasionally letting off small excited sparks.
This kind of battle — fought entirely in shadow — wasn't suited to Pikachu at all. So Pikachu had been benched.
Pikachu: Got benched for no reason, fam. Smh.
...Okay, not for no reason. His type just made him the wrong fit.
Misdreavus could execute an attack without even being seen. Pikachu, on the other hand — the moment he made a move, he was a walking lightning storm. In a field of shadows, he might as well carry a spotlight.
Fire-types and Electric-types shared this problem. The moment they engaged, there was simply no hiding it.
"Ash's Aura prediction is getting sharper and sharper — Miss Janine's feints can barely fool him now. Though her on-the-spot adaptability is impressive in its own right; the way Crobat laid those Toxic Spikes was extremely subtle..."
Brock kept one eye on the unfolding match and the other on the small, elegantly shaped piece of Pokéblock he was offering to Vulpix, who lay draped across his lap.
Vulpix accepted each piece in delicate, small bites, her six fire-red tails swaying gently.
This Vulpix had a quiet personality — serene and undemanding, not in the least noisy or boisterous. She and Ash's Misdreavus were polar opposites in temperament — they simply didn't click as playmates.
All of Ash's Pokémon, with the exception of Pidgeot, tended toward the energetic and rambunctious side.
Oh — though that wasn't to say Pidgeot enjoyed silence. That particular bird was actually quite fond of lively surroundings. She just didn't insert herself into the middle of things — she preferred to watch the chaos unfold from a comfortable distance.
That was a completely different thing from Vulpix, who simply, genuinely enjoyed quiet for its own sake.
Vulpix was content in the stillness. And that was enough.
Misty rubbed at her still-aching, slightly sore arms and let out a long sigh:
"Haa... watching them move around like that with all that energy, I'm honestly kind of envious."
"I've only been training for a few days and I already feel like my whole body's falling apart."
"Nurse Joy even told me I've hit my physical limit and need to rest properly."
While Ash and Brock had been pushing through the Fuchsia Gym's intensive training, Misty certainly hadn't been idle. But for all her effort, her progress simply couldn't keep pace — and Ash in particular was performing like something that had escaped from a monster manual.
Brock nodded slowly, empathy written across his face. He watched Ash's still-ferociously-moving figure in the field and let a note of helpless admiration creep into his voice:
"Same here. The Gym's secret bath formulas are remarkable, but the body's capacity for endurance has its limits regardless."
"All one can say is — after his training in the martial arts, Ash's body has become something that barely registers as human anymore. His recovery speed and endurance are both well beyond the range of what should be possible."
They both understood perfectly well that true training was never simply about pushing through pain — it required the right balance of exertion and recovery. Overworking the body only damaged it and left hidden injuries in its wake.
In these past few days of training, the Gym had assessed both of them as having reached the current ceiling of their capacity, and placed them on a rest and consolidation regimen. Ash, on the other hand, was clearly nowhere near his ceiling yet.
All one could say was: that was what it meant to be a Super Pallet Town graduate.
---
Out on the field, the sparring had entered its most heated phase.
Both Ash and Janine were completely focused — probing for openings in the other while deliberately creating false ones of their own, trying to draw each other in. Their silhouettes flashed through the dark, trailing eddies of wind in their wake.
This was not just a Pokémon battle. It was a battle between Trainers as well.
Finally.
In a single rapid close-range exchange —
Janine drove a probing knife-hand strike toward Ash's shoulder and neck. Ash's guard seemed to come up just a fraction slow, leaving a gap along his ribs.
Janine's heart leaped. She shifted her technique and drove in — only to realize, far too late, that this had been a trap Ash had carefully laid.
In the precise instant when her first force was spent and her next had not yet gathered —
Ash dropped his body low, slipping cleanly past the edge of her strike. His right hand shot out like lightning, caught Janine's extended wrist, and in one fluid, seamless motion — executed a perfect over-the-shoulder throw.
"Ah——!" Janine cried out in surprise, her body tracing a brief arc through the air before landing — squarely on her backside — outside the edge of the sparring field.
It wasn't particularly painful. But the outcome was clear.
Winner decided.
Janine looked up in a slight daze.
The person walking toward her was Ash.
His back was to the bright moon hanging in the sky above, its pale silver light pouring down behind him — tracing a luminous outline around his silhouette.
Because of the backlight, his features were softened into shadow. But the hand extended toward her was steady and sure, and his eyes — even in the dark — were clear and calm, carrying a smile and a sincerity that no shadow could obscure.
...He looked like a spirit stepping down from within the moon itself.
In that moment.
The image of the boy standing with his back to the moonlight, hand outstretched toward her — it burned itself into Janine's memory like a brand, sinking deep.
She thought it was worth keeping.
Janine: ...So cool...
Though the thought bloomed clearly in her mind, not a trace of it showed on her face. Such was the ninja's control over her own emotions.
"Hee hee hee~" Misdreavus floated over lightly, circling around Ash in cheerful loops.
Crobat folded its wings and settled quietly beside Janine.
Due to Crobat's particular anatomy, its hind limbs had become its second pair of wings upon evolution — leaving it with only two tiny, almost vestigial little legs. This meant Crobat couldn't stand upright at all; it could only crawl. As graceful and swift as it was in the air, it was precisely that clumsy on the ground.
Janine looked at Ash's outstretched hand.
Then she looked up at his face.
A faint flush crossed her features — there and gone in an instant, replaced by steady resolve.
Janine placed her hand in his palm and spoke in a clear, firm voice: "I'll keep getting stronger. Next time, I won't lose to you."
Ash smiled — a small, warm one — and pulled with a sure strength, bringing Janine easily back to her feet. "I'll be looking forward to it."
"On the road of training, I'm sure our paths will cross again."
Their hands touched — and parted.
The training session for the day was over.
And in the distance, Brock and Misty could only watch.
□皿 Brock: Misty, why are you just sitting there watching?
∇ Misty: Hm? What else am I supposed to do?
____
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