"It's really famous now… Dr. Ash."
On the forest path toward the next city, Sabrina glanced at her phone, her expression unreadable as she showed Ash the news report.
Ever since Ash's research spread across Kanto, his fame had exploded—reaching not only every city in the region but even distant territories. Many now called him the Father of Eevee Evolution Theory, and although Ash deliberately avoided public appearances, his name alone traveled faster than he could walk.
"Don't say it like that," Ash sighed helplessly. "I only wanted the paper to boost Magic Island's reputation… not my own."
He could already feel Sabrina's chill of jealousy rising again. In recent weeks, countless spring-hearted girls had openly confessed to him. And even Cynthia, all the way in Sinnoh, was no different—if not for her Champion duties, she would have flown to Ash already to "keep an eye on him."
Magic Island itself was not very large—half dense forest, half wooden-built town, constructed from timber so durable it bordered on miraculous. Yet almost 100,000 residents lived there, their identities already verified with full League approval. Children born on Magic Island would, in the future, receive free qualification to become Pokémon trainers—no League fees required.
Ash had given the League far too many benefits for them to charge the island anything in return. But that didn't mean children could become trainers without effort—Pokémon still had to choose their partners.
In Dream Forest, while the local Pokémon wouldn't initiate a capture, the forest and town were connected. Pokémon often wandered in for food, living alongside humans peacefully. Their bonds determined whether a Pokémon would willingly choose a trainer in the future—something Mewtwo was immensely satisfied with.
As more and more Pokémon arrived, the Dream Forest had expanded into sea, rock, forest, and volcanic subregions—each constructed through Ash's tremendous power.
Magic Island was capped at 100,000 residents not only due to size but because overcrowding increased the risk of accidents. A continuous cycle of population control was necessary.
"Exactly."
As Ash and Sabrina continued along the path, Ash suddenly paused. A voice—sharp, desperate—echoed in his mind. A Pokémon's cry.
He pulled Sabrina along and headed toward the source.
There, they found a heart-wrenching scene:
A Treecko—its tail pitch-black—was barely holding on, surrounded by a pack of Houndour, its small body covered in gashes. It wouldn't last another minute.
Contrary to what many naïve trainers believed, Pokémon did prey on one another, and group fights like this weren't rare. It all depended on the species and their temperaments.
This Treecko's black tail marked it as an outcast—either rejected or abandoned by its own kind.
"Ash, we have to help it! Treecko's not going to last!"
Sabrina's eyes softened. Her psychic energy surged instinctively.
"Wait."
Ash activated his Sharingan, suppressing Sabrina's psychic outburst with a glance.
"I'll step in at the critical moment. I want to see this Treecko's resolve for myself."
In Treecko's eyes, he saw raw defiance, a burning will to fight. The foundation of a true warrior.
A moment later—
Bang!
Treecko collapsed, its body trembling, its eyes still filled with unwilling fury.
Why am I so weak?
Why did my own kin reject me?
Why… when I did nothing wrong?
The Houndour pack advanced, preparing for the final bite.
"Pikachu," Ash said calmly, "drive those mutts away."
Pikachu's cheeks sparked.
"Pika."
"Pikachu!"
Golden lightning burst outward. The bolt crashed into the advancing Houndour, dropping the entire pack in an instant. One by one, the dark Pokémon collapsed, twitching as their consciousness slipped away.
"Pika."
Pikachu cut the electricity, flicking his tail with open disdain as he stared at the fainted Houndour.
In his eyes, they were nothing but weaklings—nowhere near the level of a properly trained Houndour under a real trainer.
Sabrina stepped forward, but Ash lifted a hand lightly.
"Hold on."
At their feet, the injured Treecko struggled to open his fading eyes, staring at the two humans before him. His breath was shallow, but the fire in his gaze refused to die.
Ash knelt beside the fallen Pokémon. He gathered the life-rich chakra within his body—energy shaped by Mokuton—and pressed a hand over Treecko's wounds.
A warm green glow pulsed.
In moments, Treecko's shredded skin knit together. His bruises faded. His trembling limbs steadied. Not only were his injuries healed—his stamina surged back to its peak.
Treecko looked down at himself, stunned. His tail twitched experimentally. No pain. No weakness. Nothing but strength.
Ash met his gaze.
"You want to be stronger, don't you?"
His three-tomoe Sharingan spun open—deep crimson, heavy with pressure. Treecko froze as a wave of instinctual fear crashed over him… but beneath that fear, something else stirred. Recognition. Resolve.
Ash's question dragged memories from deep within Treecko's heart.
He had been born different—his tail mutated, marked black instead of green. A shiny Treecko, yet instead of admiration, his tribe met him with fear and rejection. No matter how hard he tried, his attempts to fit in brought only scorn.
Even his own parents eventually averted their eyes and cast him away.
Alone, he drifted all the way to the Johto region. But his weakness made him easy prey. Local Pokémon tormented him relentlessly, and soon the Houndour pack made him their preferred target.
He fought.
He fled.
He survived.
And through each battle, he grew stronger—inch by inch, scar by scar.
But he had never been strong enough.
Not until Ash found him on the brink of death.
Treecko clenched his small fists. His eyes hardened. His resolve burned with feverish intensity.
Ash's voice was low, calm, absolute.
"If you want strength… I can give it to you."
Treecko's breath shook.
This human—this overwhelming presence—was offering him a path he had never been allowed to walk.
A path toward becoming someone no one could reject again.