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Blue Oak allowed himself a small smirk as the referee called his victory. The applause washed over him, loud but distant. He adjusted his glove, steady as ever, and walked toward the edge of the arena.
Below, in the adjacent field, a familiar voice cut through the noise.
“Double Team!”
Poliwrath split into motion, striking fast and clean. The final hit landed. The crowd roared.
Red threw his fist into the air. “Alright!! I’m in the semifinals!”
Blue stopped at the railing.
Of course he is.
His pulse quickened—an irritation he refused to acknowledge. He rested his arms against the cool metal and looked down. Red was laughing, wide open and unfiltered, like every battle was the first one he’d ever won.
Blue tilted his head slightly, before raising his voice and casually remarking, “You ever see a battle that intense?!”
Red froze mid-celebration. “?” He turned, confusion flickering across his face—then recognition replaced it.
There he was.
Blue. Pidgeotto perched just behind him. Hair falling into his eyes, expression unreadable as ever.
Red didn’t say anything at first. He didn’t need to.
Blue lifted his chin just enough for his eyes to catch the light.
“Hey!”
It was simple. Casual.
Red’s answering grin wasn’t.
“You…!”
The announcer’s voice thundered across the stadium before either of them could add more.
“Winner of the ‘D’ group, Blue!”
Just Blue.
No Oak.
No mention of Professor Oak. No reminder of the name that carried weight across Kanto. After Team Rocket had shown how easily reputation could become a weapon, Blue had learned to travel lighter.
He wasn’t here as someone’s grandson.
He was here as Blue—the Trainer. The first Pokédex holder. One of the three who had stood against Team Rocket in Saffron City. One of the two now standing on opposite sides of the League bracket.
He met Red’s gaze again.
They’d both made it.
Without another word, Blue swung himself over the railing and dropped to the arena floor below. He landed lightly, straightened, and slipped one hand into his pocket.
Red blinked once. “?”
Blue’s smirk returned, familiar and sharp.
“I don’t suppose I need to tell you, Red, that in the history of the Pokémon League…”
He let the sentence hang for a beat—not for drama, just to see if Red would follow.
“…Every winner of a championship has been a trainer from Pallet Town.”
Red’s eyes brightened. “Yeah?”
Blue recalled Pidgeotto in a flash of light.
“The question this year is which one will it be…”
Red didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. You… or me?”
A quiet exhale escaped Blue—half laugh, half acknowledgment. “Heh.”
Anyone else finishing his sentence might have annoyed him.
Red doing it felt natural.
A horn blared across the arena.
“Group winners, please proceed to the arena!”
The moment thinned but didn’t break.
They stood there for a second longer—two boys who had once left a small seaside town with borrowed Pokémon and too much confidence. Since then, they’d faced criminals, legendary Pokémon, and their own limits. They’d learned what it meant to protect more than just their pride.
Blue shifted his grip on his Pokéball.
“I look forward to meeting you in the final rounds!”
It wasn’t a taunt. It was certainty charged with electric excitement and firey sparks of determination.
At the sudden confession, Red’s grin just turned knowingly sharper. Meanwhile, Blue turned on his heel, already walking ahead.
Because it was strange, wasn’t it?
How something so small—a few words tossed over a shoulder, a silhouette receding into stadium light—could feel like a line being drawn.
The crowd was still roaring. Officials were still calling trainers forward. The League banners still snapped high above the battlefield. Nothing about the world had changed.
And yet, something had.
This was the close of their beginning.
Not the end of a rivalry. Not the end of ambition. But the end of the part where they were just boys from Pallet Town trying to prove they belonged. They had crossed forests and oceans, stood against criminals who thought themselves untouchable, learned how fragile their home could be—and how fiercely they were willing to defend it.
They had wanted strength once for the sake of winning.
Now they understood what it was for.
To become Kanto’s Champion meant more than a title. It meant responsibility. It meant standing between danger and the people who couldn’t fight back. It meant being steady when others faltered.
They had grown into that without realizing it.
They had become protectors.
Heroes to the region.
Standards for each other.
And, perhaps most importantly, they grew into the kind of people they could truly respect, discovering both themselves and one another along the way.