Bab 19: Chapter no.19 Bargaining with a Mastermind
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Flint walked quietly down the narrow streets of Pewter City, his boots scuffing against the uneven cobblestones. The houses here were old, their stone walls and arched doorways a reminder of simpler times. His steps slowed as he neared a familiar house—the one he had once called home. The weight in his chest grew heavier as he gazed at the worn wooden door, the same one he had walked through countless times as a younger man. His hand trembled at his side.
It was his family's home. The home he had abandoned.
He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out an envelope. Inside was everything he had managed to save this month, the meager earnings from odd jobs and handyman work. Flint bent down and carefully placed the envelope on the doorstep. His fingers lingered on it, the temptation to knock gnawing at him. To face them—to face Brock, his oldest son, and the others. To explain. To apologize.
But what could he say? The weight of his past mistakes felt suffocating. The sound of footsteps from within the house broke his thoughts.
"Coming!" Brock's voice called out.
Flint's heart leapt into his throat. Panic set in, his chest tightening with every passing second. He couldn't do it. His body moved on instinct, turning him away from the door. He hurried down the street, ducking into a shadowed alley just as the door creaked open. Pressing his back against the cold stone of a nearby building, he clenched his fists, his breath shaky.
"Coward," Flint muttered bitterly to himself, his voice a low rasp. He slammed his fist against the wall, the pain grounding him for a moment. But it wasn't enough to drown out the shame.
He stayed there for a long moment, hidden from view, before finally pushing himself away from the wall. His shoulders slumped, and his steps were slower now as he drifted toward the city's park.
The park was alive with energy, a stark contrast to Flint's somber mood. Children ran and laughed, their voices carrying through the air as trainers gathered near a dusty battlefield to watch matches. The ring was simple—a patch of hardened dirt surrounded by flat stone platforms for spectators. Flint found himself drawn to the commotion, stopping under the shade of a tree to observe.
Among the crowd, he spotted a familiar face—Austin. He was walking toward the battlefield alongside another young trainer, a boy named Jimmy who radiated cocky energy. The two seemed to be exchanging a few barbed words, but Flint was too far away to catch the specifics.
Flint's interest piqued when the trainers took their places on opposite sides of the field.
Jimmy went first, tossing out a Pokéball. A Poliwag appeared in a flash of light, its glossy blue skin glistening under the sun. Its large, round eyes and the swirling black-and-white pattern on its belly gave it an almost hypnotic charm.
On Austin's side, he released a small Rattata. The purple Normal-type stood firm, its eyes sharp and alert. Flint raised an eyebrow. "A Rattata?" he muttered under his breath. "This kid's gonna need some luck."
But then Flint's eyes narrowed as he noticed Austin carefully strapping something onto Rattata—a weighted training vest. Flint's brow furrowed in confusion.
"Why the hell is he using that now?" he murmured. "It's gonna slow her down. She'll get wiped out."
Jimmy seemed to have the same thought. "What's that supposed to be? You think I'm some kind of joke?"
"Not at all. Just trying something new."
Jimmy's face turned red with anger, and he let out a frustrated grunt, tossing a rock into the air. The small stone arced high before clattering back to the ground. "Fine! Let's see if your little stunt pays off!"
The match began with Jimmy calling the first move.
"Poliwag, Bubble Beam!"
"Run right! Wait for my signal," Austin instructed.
Poliwag opened its mouth and unleashed a flurry of blue bubbles, each one gleaming as they hurtled toward Rattata. Despite the extra weight of the vest, Rattata darted to the side, her movements quick and precise. The bubbles burst harmlessly behind her, leaving small craters in the dirt.
"Turn your head!" Jimmy called out.
Poliwag swiveled its head, redirecting the stream of bubbles toward Rattata's new position. The attack swept across the field like a water cannon.
"Jump!" Austin shouted.
Rattata leapt into the air, the Bubble Beam passing just beneath her. She landed gracefully, her tail flicking in anticipation.
"Quick Attack into Tail Whip!"
Rattata charged forward, her small form blurring with speed. Though the added weight of the vest made the Quick Attack slightly off-target, she used the momentum to spin mid-run, slapping Poliwag across the face with her tail.
"Water Gun!"
Poliwag steadied itself and fired a jet of water from its mouth. The high-pressure stream shot toward Rattata like a bullet.
"Dodge with Quick Attack!"
The Quick Claw on Rattata's vest glinted in the sunlight as she bolted to the side, narrowly avoiding the Water Gun. She moved with an agility that seemed impossible given the added weight she carried.
"Hypnosis!" Jimmy barked in desperation.
Poliwag began swaying, the spiral on its belly spinning hypnotically. The air seemed to shift, the pattern almost drawing Rattata in.
"Tail Whip, now!"
Before the hypnosis could take hold, Rattata spun again, her tail striking Poliwag's face with a sharp crack. The attack broke Poliwag's rhythm, disrupting the hypnotic swirl.
"Quick Attack!" Austin shouted.
Without hesitation, Rattata lowered her head and charged forward. The impact of the headbutt sent Poliwag tumbling backward, its energy spent. The combination of Quick Attacks and repeated Tail Whips had taken its toll.
Poliwag collapsed onto the dirt, defeated.
Jimmy groaned in frustration, recalling his fallen Pokémon. "No way... You've gotta be kidding me!"
Austin crouched down, a proud smile on his face as he gently stroked Rattata's head. "You were amazing out there," he said softly. He examined her closely, noticing the faint dilation of veins along her tail—a clear sign of how hard she'd pushed herself.
"You've been working hard, huh? Time to rest."
But Rattata puffed out her chest, clearly eager for another fight.
Austin chuckled, tapping her nose lightly. "Nope. One battle. That's what we agreed on."
Rattata huffed but didn't resist as Austin scooped her up and placed her on his shoulder. "See? You get the best seat in the house."
Pikachu's eyes narrowed as it watched Rattata claim the coveted shoulder spot. With a defiant squeak, Pikachu hopped onto Austin's other shoulder, glaring at Rattata.
Austin groaned, his balance thrown off as the two Pokémon jostled for space. "Guys, seriously?"
"Ahem!" Jimmy interrupted. "We're not done here!"
"Oh, right. My bad. Ready for round two?"
"You're gonna regret that cocky attitude!"
Jimmy smirked with confidence as he released his second Pokémon: a Nidorino. The large, purple quadrupedal Pokémon landed on the field with a low growl, its spiny ears flicking as it sniffed the air. Its black eyes gleamed with a predator's focus, and its sharp horn shone menacingly in the afternoon sun. Austin assessed the Nidorino carefully. The Poison-type looked tough, no doubt about it. Its movements were deliberate and strong, and Austin could already tell this wouldn't be an easy fight. With a practiced flick, he released Spearow onto the battlefield. The small bird materialized in a burst of light, shaking his feathers as he squawked defiantly. Despite his smaller size, Spearow radiated a fiery determination that made him seem larger than life.
Jimmy raised an eyebrow at the sight of the weighted training vest strapped to Spearow's body, along with the Quick Claw necklace Austin had fastened earlier. His lips curled into a smirk. "What's that supposed to be? Some kind of fashion statement?" he jeered. "You think you can win with your Pokémon weighed down like that?"
"You'll see."
"Alright then, let's get this over with. Nidorino, Poison Sting!"
Nidorino's horn began to glow white, firing off a flurry of sharp, poisonous darts. The sound of the stingers cutting through the air was enough to make the spectators flinch.
"Dodge!" Austin shouted.
Spearow flapped his wings hard, rising into the air despite the weight of the vest. The darts zipped past him, narrowly missing their mark. His movements were slower than usual, but his agility hadn't been completely hindered.
"Not bad," Jimmy admitted with a shrug. "But you're still too slow. Nidorino, Water Pulse! Hit him while he's airborne!"
Nidorino opened its mouth, and a shimmering orb of water formed between its jaws, pulsating with energy. The orb expanded into a ring of water that blasted forward with incredible speed.
Austin's eyes widened. "Fly up!"
Spearow flapped hard to gain altitude, but the Water Pulse clipped him, drenching his feathers and sending him spiraling down. He hit the ground with a wet thud, mud splattering around him.
"Spearow!" Austin called out, his heart tightening in his chest. "Can you get up?"
Spearow twitched, shaking his body as water dripped from his feathers. With a defiant squawk, he stood back up. "That's the spirit," Austin said. "We're not out of this yet. Peck! Let's go!"
Spearow lunged forward, his beak glowing as he aimed for Nidorino's flank.
"Leer, then Poison Sting! Keep him back!"
Nidorino's eyes glowed red as it locked Spearow in a piercing glare. Spearow faltered for a split second, the intimidating look throwing him off balance, but he pushed through, darting to the side to avoid the barrage of poisonous darts that followed.
"Shake it off, Spearow!" Austin shouted. "Use Fury Attack! Let's show them what you've got!"
Spearow let out a fierce cry as he ripped off the training vest in one swift motion. Freed from the added weight, he moved like lightning. His talons glowed as he slashed at Nidorino in rapid succession, each hit precise and relentless. Nidorino growled in frustration, unable to keep up with the sudden increase in speed.
"Water Pulse! Point blank!"
Nidorino opened its mouth, ready to launch another Water Pulse, but spearow was faster.
"Quick Attack! Close the distance!"
Spearow darted forward, white energy trailing behind him as he slammed into Nidorino's side before the Water Pulse could form. The impact sent the larger Pokémon stumbling backward.
"Don't let up, Nidorino! Peck! End this now!"
Nidorino charged forward, its glowing horn aimed directly at Spearow. The little bird was visibly tired, his breaths coming in labored puffs. Austin clenched his fists, searching for an opening, a way to turn the tide.
And then it happened.
A dark aura began to swirl around Spearow's beak, faint at first but growing more intense with each passing second. The crimson-black energy seemed to pulse and crackle as if responding to Spearow's determination.
"What the—?" Austin muttered, his mind racing. He didn't recognize the move, but there was no time to think. "Go for it, Spearow! Give it everything you've got!"
Spearow let out a piercing screech as he launched himself into the air. The dark aura around his beak flared brighter as he dove straight toward Nidorino, his small body cutting through the air like an arrow.
"Water Pulse! Stop him!"
Nidorino fired the pulsating ring of water, but Spearow didn't dodge. Instead, he pushed straight through it, the dark energy around his beak shielding him from the worst of the attack. He rammed into Nidorino's neck with a force that shook the battlefield, the dark aura exploding outward on impact.
A blinding light enveloped the field, forcing everyone to shield their eyes.
When the light faded, Nidorino lay sprawled on the ground, unconscious. Spearow, though poisoned and exhausted, stood triumphantly for a moment before collapsing onto his side.
Austin rushed forward, quickly recalling Spearow into his Pokéball. "You were incredible," he whispered, his voice thick with pride.
He pulled out his Pokédex, desperate to understand what had just happened. The screen displayed information on a move called Assurance. It was a Dark-type attack that doubled in power if the target had already taken damage.
"So that's what it was," Austin murmured. "You've got more tricks up your sleeve than I thought."
Jimmy approached, his expression a mix of frustration and grudging respect. He extended his hand. "You earned that win. I've got to admit, you're a lot tougher than I thought."
Austin shook his hand, his grip firm. "Thanks. You gave me a real challenge."
"You're gonna need it if you're heading to Pewter Gym. Brock's no joke."
Austin stretched his arms over his head. "Guess I've got some more training to do," he said. "But hey, a little intel wouldn't hurt. Mind telling me about Brock?"
"Figures. That's your prize, huh? You know, you might be the first trainer I've met who uses Pokémon battles to squeeze out information instead of just fighting for cash or bragging rights."
"Well, hey, it's called strategy. I can't afford to buy guidebooks when I can just battle locals for free tips. Multi-tasking at its finest."
Jimmy raised an eyebrow, stuffing his Pokéball into his bag. "You do realize most trainers just ask, right? No battles required."
"Where's the fun in that? A little blood, sweat, and tail-whipping really builds trust. Also, if I lost, there wouldn't be much talking—just me quietly leaving with my pride in shambles."
Jimmy barked out a laugh, shaking his head. "Alright, alright, you're definitely one of a kind. Fine, pay attention, because I'm only saying this once..."
---------
[DAY 2]
The next morning, Flint found Austin back in the park. This time, the boy wasn't battling but was fully immersed in an intense training session with his team. Flint leaned against a tree, watching quietly from the shade as the young trainer worked.
Rattata darted back and forth across the open field, her small body strapped with a weighted training vest that looked far too heavy for her size. Her paws kicked up small clouds of dust as she zigzagged around obstacles Austin had set up—stones, buckets, and even a tipped-over trash bin.
Not far away, Pikachu held a glowing metal rod in his small paws, connected to a battery with wires that hummed faintly. Sparks danced across his cheeks as he bit down on the rod, his body trembling slightly from the effort. Flint recognized the setup immediately—training designed to strengthen an Electric-type's attacks by conditioning them to absorb and withstand higher voltages.
Eevee was engaged in a more playful exercise with Austin, though it was no less challenging. Austin tossed bright plastic rings into the air, calling out commands as Eevee darted after them, leaping and twisting midair to catch them in her mouth. Above them, Spearow circled lazily at first, but at Austin's whistle, he began sharp aerial dives, mimicking the movement of a predator in pursuit. Every now and then, Spearow swerved to intercept a ring mid-flight, his beak snapping shut with a satisfying clink.
Flint's eyes drifted to a neatly arranged pile of protein shakes and vitamin drinks on a blanket nearby, each labeled with a Pokémon's name. His brow furrowed slightly.
He continued to watch as Austin knelt beside a notebook, scribbling furiously while occasionally glancing at his Pokémon. Flint didn't need to see the pages to know they were filled with strategies, observations, and notes. The kid's focus was impressive, almost unnerving.
A moment later, a boy slightly older than Austin approached, his posture cocky and his expression confident. Flint recognized the type instantly—someone who enjoyed throwing their weight around, especially with less experienced trainers.
"You," the trainer said, smirking. "I've heard you're battling around here. You want to go a round with me?"
Austin looked up from Spearow and cocked an eyebrow. "Sure. Why not?" He didn't sound intimidated in the slightest, but Flint caught the flicker of nerves that flashed across his face when he saw the trainer send out Onix.
The enormous, rock-serpentine Pokémon coiled itself onto the battlefield, its massive body casting a shadow over the ground. Flint noticed Austin's hand tighten slightly around Pikachu's Pokéball, but he stayed composed as he sent the electric type out to fight.
The battle was brutal. Pikachu used everything he had; even a daring move where he tried to ride up Onix's rocky spine to land a hit. But the size and sheer resilience of the Onix were too much. A single Rock Tomb brought Pikachu to his knees, leaving Austin with his first defeat of the day.
As the older trainer gloated, Flint kept his eyes on Austin. The boy crouched beside Pikachu, murmuring something softly as he gently rubbed the Pokémon's head. Then he stood, brushing the dirt off his pants, and walked straight over to the other trainer.
"Hey," Austin said. "Got a second?"
The trainer raised an eyebrow. "What, you want another beating?"
Austin shook his head, smiling slightly. "Nah, I just want to know how you trained your Onix. How'd you teach it to use Rock Tomb so precisely? And that counter you used against Quick Attack—was that something you came up with on the fly, or do you practice that?"
The older trainer blinked, his smirk faltering. "You're asking me… for advice?"
"Why not?" Austin said with a shrug. "You're good. I'd be stupid not to learn something from you."
The older trainer looked taken aback but eventually nodded, his tone softening. "Alright, kid. Let's talk."
Flint watched from the sidelines as Austin spent the next hour asking questions, scribbling notes, and absorbing every piece of advice the older trainer had to offer. The boy's humility and hunger for growth were undeniable.
------
[DAY 3]
The following day, Flint didn't find Austin in the park. Instead, he stumbled upon the young trainer on the rocky cliffs just outside Pewter City. Austin had turned the uneven terrain into a makeshift training ground, and his Pokémon were hard at work.
Rattata, Pikachu, and Eevee scrambled up the steep rocks, their bodies heaving as they adjusted to the weighted vests strapped to them. Every movement was calculated, the incline forcing them to push their limits as they leaped between ledges, sometimes faltering but always getting back up. Spearow circled above, his sharp eyes tracking his teammates. Occasionally, the bird swooped down, catching one of them if they slipped too far. His flight patterns were noticeably tighter and more deliberate than they had been in the park.
Austin sat on a flat rock nearby, a notebook balanced on his knee and a pen in hand. Flint noticed a pile of papers scattered beside him, one of which caught his eye. It read: Strategies to Beat Brock.
"Oh, hey Flint," Austin said as he noticed the man approaching from the trail. He snapped his notebook shut, a light breeze rustling the loose papers around him. "Didn't expect to see you out here."
"You've got a real knack for showing up in the strangest places, kid," Flint said. "What are you doing all the way out here? This isn't exactly a tourist spot."
"Training," he said simply. "After yesterday's loss to that Onix, I realized we needed to work on handling bigger, heavier opponents. Something that size? You can't just outspeed it—you have to out-think it."
Flint arched a brow. "Huh. Most rookies would've chalked it up to bad luck and tried again without changing much."
"Bad luck's just an excuse for not being prepared," he said firmly. "That trainer didn't win because he got lucky. He won because I didn't have a plan."
Flint gave a low whistle. "That's some mature thinking for someone who doesn't even have their first badge yet." His eyes drifted to the pile of crumpled papers next to Austin. "What's all this, then?"
Austin followed his gaze, then smirked. "Homework," he said, patting the notebook. "I've been talking to trainers who've battled Brock—figuring out his strategies, the Pokémon he uses, their moves, even the items he might rely on. Jimmy, that kid from the park, was bragging about beating him, so I made him spill everything he knew."
"Let me guess—one of those 'beat me in a battle and I'll pay you' kind of deals?"
Austin chuckled, leaning back on his hands. "Close. I offered him 500 Pokédollars if he beat me, but if I won, he had to give me the full rundown on Brock. Turns out, he's not half as good as he thinks he is. But his info was solid."
"You're really putting in the work for one Gym Leader. Most trainers just show up and hope for the best."
"Yeah, well, 'hope for the best' didn't stop that Onix from wiping the floor with Pikachu yesterday," Austin replied, a wry smile on his face. "I've seen what happens to trainers who just wing it. Their pokemon get hurt." He paused, his gaze drifting to his Pokémon. "I'm not gonna be one of those trainers."
Flint studied the boy for a long moment, the afternoon sun casting sharp shadows across his face. "And the training vests?" he asked finally. "You used them in battle yesterday too. What's the deal with that?"
Austin reached over and grabbed one of the vests, holding it up for Flint to see. The weights glinted faintly in the sunlight. "They're for endurance and speed training," he explained. "The idea is simple—if my Pokémon can handle battling with extra weight, they'll move faster and hit harder once it's off. It's like resistance training."
"And you don't think it's a bit... much? I mean, they're still just starting out."
Austin's expression softened as he set the vest down. "It's not about pushing them too hard," he said quietly. "It's about making sure they're ready. I don't want them going into battles unprepared, getting hurt because I didn't train them well enough." His voice dropped, just enough that Flint almost missed it. "I owe them that much."
Flint felt a pang of respect. "You've got a good head on your shoulders, kid. More than I can say for most rookies."
He watched Austin walk away, the young trainer's determination still lingering like a spark in the air. Flint stood there for a moment longer, hands shoved into his pockets, before turning back toward the winding streets of Pewter City. His boots scuffed against the old cobblestones as he moved, each step dragging with the weight of the encounter.
He couldn't shake the thought of Brock—his son—and what this would mean for him.
Lost in his thoughts, Flint stopped abruptly when a familiar voice broke through the murmur of the city.
"Big Brother Brock! I want chocolate ice cream!"
His head jerked toward the sound, his heart tightening in his chest as he spotted them—Brock standing in the town square, surrounded by his siblings. The youngest, a wide-eyed girl, tugged at Brock's sleeve as he patiently crouched to listen to her request. Beside her, two younger boys playfully tugged at each other's shirts, while the older siblings tried to keep the little ones in line.
Brock's expression was warm and steady, a quiet strength radiating from him even as the chaos of his siblings swirled around him. To any passerby, it would have been a heartwarming scene—a dutiful older brother lovingly taking care of his family. But to Flint, it was a stark reminder of his own failures.
This wasn't Brock's responsibility. It should've been his.
Flint's fists clenched tightly at his sides as he watched. He'd left Brock to bear the burden of a family too big for one child to handle, forcing him to mature far too quickly. Brock had become the pillar of his family because Flint had abandoned them. And now… now this kid was about to crush his son in battle.
Most trainers see battles as fights, Flint thought bitterly, his fingers curling tighter. But that kid? He sees them as chess. He's not just fighting to win—he's fighting to dismantle his opponent, to prove that every move they've planned means nothing against him.
The image of Brock standing in front of his siblings, confident and steady, morphed into a haunting vision of him defeated—crushed under the weight of an overwhelming loss, his pride and confidence shattered. Flint couldn't bear the thought of Brock's siblings witnessing that.
He felt the lump in his throat rise, his heart hammering against his ribcage. He had already failed Brock as a father. He couldn't let his son face humiliation like that, not when he had the power to stop it.
"I can't let this happen," Flint muttered, his voice shaky. "I won't let this happen."
Without fully forming a plan, Flint turned and hurried toward the outskirts of the city. His feet carried him down a familiar dirt path, overgrown with weeds but still etched into his memory. The old, abandoned cabin came into view—a relic of his younger days with Lola, Brock's mother. It had been their secret hideaway, a place where they'd escape the strict rules of their families. Now, it was a hollow shell of those happier times. Flint pushed the door open, the wood groaning under the strain of rusted hinges. Inside, the air was stale, filled with the faint scent of dust and decay. The sunlight filtered through cracks in the boarded-up windows, casting uneven beams of light across the room. His eyes scanned the space, landing on a dusty photo sitting on a rickety shelf. It was a picture of him, Lola, and a baby Brock, barely a month old. Flint froze, his breath hitching as he reached out to touch the frame. The smiling face of his infant son stared back at him, unburdened by the weight of the responsibilities he would one day carry.
Tears stung the corners of Flint's eyes as he clutched the photo. "I'm sorry, Brock," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I've failed you."
His gaze shifted to a small metal cube sitting beside the photo, the sheen of the TM glinting faintly in the light. Flint's jaw tightened. He grabbed the cube and bolted out the door, his mind set on what he had to do.
------
Austin couldn't help but snort as he pedaled along the outskirts of Pewter City. The memory of how he and countless others back in his old world used to brag about how they'd easily be Pokémon Masters if they were in this world amused him to no end. "Just use items," they'd say. "Plan strategies," they'd boast. Austin had been one of those kids.
But now, actually living in this world, he realized how naive that mindset had been. It wasn't a video game, and it wasn't as simple as planning for easy wins. Just the information he'd gathered on Brock alone made him realize how real and difficult this was going to be. This wasn't about memorizing type matchups; it was about preparation, adaptation, and thinking on your feet. Brock was going to be a real challenge.
The warm breeze brushed past him as he breezed down the dirt path on his bike, Pikachu perched contentedly in the front basket, nibbling on a bottle of ketchup he'd swiped from the Pokémon Center cafeteria. Vee, meanwhile, was sitting comfortably behind him on the bike's rear rack, his large ears flopping happily with the motion.
The quiet ride didn't last long.
Out of nowhere, a panting, disheveled Flint appeared in the middle of the path, waving his arms frantically to catch Austin's attention.
Austin barely managed to screech to a halt, the tires kicking up a small spray of dirt as he stopped just short of crashing into the man. "Seriously?!" Austin groaned, steadying his bike as Pikachu and Vee held on for dear life. "Why does everyone think jumping in front of a bike is a good idea?!"
Flint bent over, hands on his knees as he caught his breath, sweat dripping from his brow. "S-Sorry," he wheezed, his words barely coherent. "I just... I need to talk to you. It's important."
"What is it now? And please tell me it's not about selling me another magic rock."
Flint shook his head quickly, standing upright and holding up a hand as if to calm the boy down. "No, no! Nothing like that. I need to... I want to make a deal with you."
"A deal?" He crossed his arms, his tone wary. "Okay, what kind of deal are we talking about here?"
Flint reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small metal cube. He held it up, the sunlight catching the polished edges. Austin blinked in surprise as he realized what it was.
"A TM?!"
"Yeah," Flint confirmed, taking a step closer and extending the TM toward him. "It's Hidden Power. A rare move. You can have it... on one condition."
Austin frowned, his curiosity now mixed with caution. "What condition?"
"Don't fight Brock."
The silence that followed was deafening. For a moment, all Austin could do was stare at Flint, processing the absurdity of the request. Then, he burst out laughing!
"Wait, wait," Austin said between fits of laughter. "You're telling me you ran all the way out here, panting like a dying Rapidash, just to bribe me not to battle Brock? Are you serious?"
Flint's jaw tightened, but he didn't waver. "I am serious," he said firmly. "Take the TM, kid. Skip Pewter Gym. Go challenge another Gym first. Just... don't fight Brock as your first battle."
Austin's laughter died down as he straightened up. "Okay, hold on," he said, his tone sharpening. "Why? Why are you so desperate for me to avoid Brock?"
Flint hesitated, his gaze shifting to the ground as if searching for the right words. "Because..." he began, "if Brock loses to you, it's going to break him."
Austin blinked, caught off guard by the raw emotion in Flint's voice. "Break him?" he repeated, frowning. "What are you talking about?"
Flint ran a hand through his hair, his movements frustrated and restless. "Brock's strong, yeah. But he's been carrying so much weight on his shoulders for years. He's not just a Gym Leader, you know. He's been raising his brothers and sisters, taking care of them, making sure they have a good life—all while keeping up the Gym's reputation. If you come in here, with all your prep and strategy, and crush him..." Flint trailed off, his voice cracking slightly. "It might shatter his confidence. And Brock doesn't deserve that."
For a long moment, neither of them said anything. Then, with a sigh, Austin dismounted his bike, setting the kickstand and stepping closer to Flint.
"You really think so little of your son?" Austin said, his voice quiet but laced with an edge. Flint's eyes snapped up, his expression one of shock. "You think Brock's so fragile that losing one battle is going to destroy him?"
"That's not—"
"No, listen to me," Austin said, his voice growing firmer. "I know Brock. I know what he's done, what he's sacrificed. Do you think I don't know how strong he is? The guy gave up his own dreams to raise his siblings because you weren't there to do it." Flint flinched as if struck. "And you're standing here, trying to protect him from me, like he's some kind of glass statue that's going to shatter the moment it's touched? Give me a break."
Flint's hands clenched into fists at his sides, his guilt and frustration boiling to the surface. "You don't understand!" he snapped. "Brock's already been through enough—"
"Exactly!" Austin shot back. "He's been through enough. Which is why he's stronger than this! If Brock does lose, he'll get back up. Because that's what strong people do."
Flint was silent, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths as he processed Austin's words. The boy stepped closer, looking Flint dead in the eye.
"You don't need to protect Brock from me," Austin said. "What you need to do is stop running and be the father he needs. Because no matter how strong he is, he shouldn't have to carry everything alone."
Flint's throat tightened, and he looked away, his vision blurring slightly as tears threatened to spill. Austin didn't wait for a response. He turned, hopping back on his bike and pedaling away, Pikachu and Vee glancing back at Flint as they disappeared down the path.
Flint stood there, frozen, the TM still clutched tightly in his hand. The boy's words echoed in his mind, louder than his own guilt, cutting through the years of shame he'd buried himself in.
"Lola... what do I do now?"
Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
stone