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The warmth of their small bodies against his chest, their rapid little heartbeats, and the undeniable bond they shared filled the boy with a deep sense of accomplishment.
"You two are incredible," Austin whispered. "I couldn't have done this without you. Thank you."
Pikachu chirped happily, nuzzling closer to him, his cheeks sparking faintly with excitement. Rattata let out a tiny squeak, her tail flicking with pride as she nestled against his arm. For a moment, Austin stayed like that, holding them close. It wasn't just about the win—it was about how far they had come together. It was their effort, their trust, and their teamwork that made this victory mean something.
When he finally stood, gently setting Pikachu and Rattata back on the ground, Austin turned to see Brock and Forrest standing a few feet away. Brock had a calm, approving smile on his face, while Forrest had his arms crossed, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.
"Sorry for the delay," Austin said. "Got a little caught up in the moment."
"No need to apologize. If you don't celebrate moments like these, what's the point? You earned it."
Forrest stepped forward, holding a small wooden box. He opened it with a click, revealing the Boulder Badge inside. The badge's metallic surface gleamed faintly in the gym's lighting, its rugged, rocky design simple yet powerful.
"Thanks," Austin said softly, turning the badge over in his hand. He paused, then added, "Wait, what happens now? I thought the League encrypted my ID or something to keep track of wins."
"Yeah, that's part of it. The encryption confirms your win, and the League automatically deposits your prize money into your account. Should hit in a day or two."
Austin raised an eyebrow. "So… the badge is just for show, then?"
"Not exactly. The Boulder Badge is more than a trophy."
Austin glanced down at the badge, his curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?"
Brock's tone shifted, taking on the weight of a teacher explaining an important lesson. "The Boulder Badge isn't just proof of your win—it's a tool. When your Pokémon absorbs its energy, their physical attacks become stronger."
Austin blinked, his mind struggling to process the idea. "Wait, you're telling me this thing boosts stats? Like… in real life?"
Forrest snorted in amusement. "Yup. Pretty cool, huh?"
Brock nodded, folding his arms. "There's a reason Pokémon are capable of things most humans can't even comprehend. Think about it—how do you think a Machoke can lift boulders ten times its size? Or a Pikachu can generate enough electricity to knock out a full-grown Rhydon?"
Austin tilted his head, considering the question. "PP?"
Forrest burst out laughing, and even Brock let out a small chuckle.
"Close, but not quite," Brock said. "PP just measures how many times a Pokémon can use their moves before they're too drained. The real answer is Aura."
"Aura? Like that thing Lucario's known for?"
"Exactly," Brock said with a nod. "But Aura isn't just something Lucario can use. It's the life energy that flows through every living being—humans, Pokémon, plants, even the environment. It's what gives Pokémon the incredible strength and abilities they have. And it's also why items like berries or evolutionary stones work—they're infused with natural Aura."
Austin's eyes widened as the pieces clicked into place. "So… the badge has Aura in it?"
"That's right," Brock confirmed. "The Boulder Badge carries Aura from the rock and ground types we train with here. When a Pokémon absorbs that energy, it amplifies their physical strength. It's a natural boost—not an artificial one like some items you might find from Silph Co. labs."
"Wow…" Austin trailed off, turning the badge over in his hand again. It suddenly felt a lot more significant. "That's… amazing."
"It is," Brock agreed. "But don't rely on it too much. Badges are meant to enhance the bond you already have with your Pokémon, not replace it. Trust, strategy, and teamwork will always matter more than any stat boost."
Austin nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Got it. Thanks for explaining all that."
Brock clapped him on the shoulder. "You've got a good head on your shoulders, kid. I think you're going to go far."
Before Austin could respond, Brock straightened, his expression shifting to something more neutral. "Forrest will take care of the rest of the paperwork. I need to get Onix to the Pokémon Center."
Austin raised an eyebrow, noting the way Brock seemed a little too eager to leave. "Pokémon Center, huh?"
Forrest groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Oh, here we go."
"What?" Austin asked, feigning innocence. "What's the rush, Brock? Nurse Joy waiting for you?"
Brock froze mid-step, his shoulders stiffening slightly before he turned to give Austin a sheepish grin. "Just making sure my Pokémon are in top condition. That's all."
"Sure," Forrest muttered under his breath, shaking his head. "Totally not about Nurse Joy. Absolutely not."
Austin smirked. "It's fine. You're, uh, dedicated to your team's health."
Brock gave an awkward laugh, muttering something about responsibility as he hurried out the door.
As soon as he was gone, Forrest leaned against the wall with an exaggerated sigh. "I swear, that guy needs a hobby that isn't… that."
"What, flirting?"
Forrest snorted. "If you can even call it that. It's not just about Nurse Joy—it's every woman he meets. He's convinced we need some kind of… I don't know, 'mother figure' in our lives."
Austin frowned slightly. "Mother figure?"
Forrest crossed his arms, his expression softening. "Brock's been the head of our family since Mom died. He's the one who keeps everything running—makes sure the younger kids have food, clothes, all of it. But because of that, he's got it in his head that we're missing something. Like we need someone to fill the role Mom left behind."
Austin was quiet for a moment, the usual humor of Brock's antics taking on a different tone in light of what Forrest was saying. "That's… kind of sad," he said softly.
"It is," Forrest admitted. "His heart's in the right place, but he doesn't get that we don't need him to fix everything. We just need him. But try telling him that."
Austin nodded slowly, a new respect for Brock settling in his chest. "I'm sure he'll figure it out eventually."
Forrest rolled his eyes, though there was a faint smile on his face. "Yeah. Hopefully before someone files a restraining order."
The sound of a furious shout and the unmistakable thud of a body hitting the floor echoed through the air, shattering the lighthearted moment between Austin and Forrest. Both of their heads snapped toward the noise, and without exchanging a word, they bolted outside.
What greeted them froze them in their tracks.
Brock was straddling a man on the ground, his fists coming down like a hammer. Each punch landed with a sickening crack, blood splattering across the floor. The man—an older, more rugged version of Brock—barely raised his arms in defense. His nose was a twisted, bleeding mess, a dark bruise already blooming across his left cheek. His split lip trickled blood down his chin, and his body was still, as if resigned to take the beating.
"Get up!" Brock roared, his voice filled with raw fury. "You coward! Get up and fight!"
Sally stood a few feet away, trembling so violently that her tiny frame looked as though it might collapse under the weight of her fear. Tears streaked her pale face as she clutched her Sandshrew tightly to her chest, frozen in place.
Forrest snapped into action, rushing to his sister and scooping her into his arms. "Sally, it's okay," he whispered, though his voice was shaky. "I'm here. I've got you."
Austin, heart pounding, rushed forward, grabbing Brock by the shoulders. "Brock! Stop it!" he shouted, yanking hard, trying to pull the gym leader away from the beaten man.
Pikachu darted to Austin's side, his cheeks sparking dangerously, while Rattata positioned herself between Brock and the man on the ground. Her fur bristled, her tail raised in a threatening arc as she hissed.
"Brock, he's not fighting back!" Austin pleaded, his grip straining as Brock thrashed against him.
"He doesn't deserve to fight back!" Brock roared, his voice raw and filled with venom. He tried to lunge forward, his muscles bulging as he resisted Austin's hold. "He deserves this! He deserves worse!"
"Brock, he's your father!"
The words hit Brock like a slap. His movements froze for a moment, his breath heaving. "He's not my father," he spat, his voice low and cold, like the edge of a blade. "A father doesn't abandon his kids. A father doesn't walk out when his family needs him the most."
Austin flinched under the intensity of Brock's words, but he didn't let go. "Brock, this isn't helping. Look at him. Look at Sally!"
At the mention of Sally, Brock stiffened. His head whipped around to see Forrest cradling their sister, her face buried in his shoulder, her sobs muffled but heart-wrenching. Behind them, a small crowd of Brock's other siblings had gathered, peeking out from behind corners and doorways. Their faces were a mixture of fear and confusion, some of the younger ones clutching each other tightly, others with wide, tear-filled eyes.
One of the older boys stepped forward cautiously, his voice trembling. "Brock… is that… Dad?"
Brock's eyes darted between his siblings, his fury momentarily replaced with something that looked like shame—or maybe regret. His lips pressed into a tight line, and his fists clenched at his sides as if he was barely holding himself together.
"No," he said sharply, his voice cold and clipped. He turned back to the man on the ground, his glare like fire. "This isn't Dad. This is just some… nobody."
The word hung in the air, bitter and heavy.
"Brock…" one of the younger girls whimpered, her voice cracking.
"Enough!" Brock barked, his voice snapping like a whip. His siblings flinched, and he immediately regretted the harshness, but he didn't soften. He couldn't. "All of you, go back to the playground. Now!"
The children hesitated, their small faces twisted in confusion and fear. When none of them moved, Brock's temper flared again. "I said now!"
The shout sent them scurrying, some of them crying as they ran back inside or out toward the yard. Forrest hesitated, his arms still around Sally, his jaw tight as he looked at Brock. Finally, he turned and led her back toward the house, casting one last wary glance over his shoulder.
With the children gone, Brock rounded on Austin. His expression was hard, his jaw tight, but his voice cracked slightly as he spoke. "Get him out of here," he said, his words trembling with restrained rage. "Before I do something I'll regret."
Austin swallowed hard and nodded. "Okay."
Brock stepped back, his chest still heaving with heavy breaths, and Austin cautiously approached the man on the ground. Flint—there was no mistaking it now—lay in a crumpled heap, his head bowed. Blood dripped from his nose and lip, staining his shirt. His eyes, though swollen and bruised, stared down at the dirt, hollow and filled with shame.
"Flint," Austin said quietly, crouching down and offering the man a hand. Flint didn't respond at first, his shoulders slumped in defeat. "Come on," Austin urged, his voice soft but firm. "Let's get you out of here."
Flint hesitated, then slowly reached out and took Austin's hand. His grip was weak, and he winced as Austin helped him to his feet. He swayed slightly, but Austin steadied him, draping one of Flint's arms over his shoulder.
As Austin started to lead him away, Flint's voice broke the tense silence. "I deserved it," he muttered, his tone flat, almost emotionless. "Every punch. Every word. I deserved it all."
Austin didn't respond immediately, glancing back at Brock, who stood rooted in place, his head bowed and his fists still clenched. "Maybe," Austin said quietly, his gaze shifting back to Flint. "But the kids didn't deserve to see it."
Flint flinched at that, his face twisting briefly with guilt before he let himself be led away.
As Austin helped Flint out of sight, Brock finally let out a shaky breath, his shoulders slumping as the adrenaline drained from his body. He ran a hand down his face, smearing sweat and dirt across his skin. His legs felt weak, and he sank onto the nearest bench, burying his face in his hands.
Forrest appeared a moment later, standing a few feet away. "That wasn't exactly the reunion we imagined," he said, his tone even but heavy with unspoken emotion.
Brock didn't look up. "I don't care," he muttered. "He doesn't get to waltz back in here after all these years and pretend everything's fine."
"I'm not saying you're wrong," Forrest replied, his voice quieter now. "But yelling at the kids, beating him up in front of everyone… that's not you, Brock."
Brock sat on the bench, staring at the ground. His hands rested limply on his knees, and his shoulders slumped under a weight no one else could see. He didn't say a word.
Forrest sat down quietly beside him, not speaking at first. He didn't try to force anything, just let the silence stretch between them, heavy but unbroken. After a while, he reached out and placed a hand on Brock's shoulder. It was a small gesture, but steady.
"You don't have to carry all of this alone," Forrest said softly, his voice low but firm. "We're here for you. I'm here for you."
Brock's jaw tightened, but he didn't look up. His hands curled slightly, gripping the fabric of his pants. A single tear rolled down his cheek, hitting the floor below with a faint pat. Then another. And another.
Forrest didn't say anything else. He just stayed there, his hand never leaving his brother's shoulder.
------
Austin handed a cold soda to Flint, who collapsed heavily onto the sidewalk, his shoulders slumped and his bruised face grimacing as he pressed the can against his swollen cheek. For a moment, they sat in silence. The faint hiss of Austin opening his own soda and the quiet fizzing of Pikachu's can were the only sounds. Pikachu sipped contentedly from the straw Austin had rigged up, his ears flicking as he watched the scene unfold.
Flint didn't answer at first. His hand trembled slightly as he shifted the cold can to his black eye. "For everything I've done… this doesn't even begin to cover it."
Austin studied Flint for a moment, unsure how to proceed. The man looked older than he probably was, his face lined not just from age but from regret. Blood still trickled faintly from his split lip, and the bruises forming on his face made him seem almost unrecognizable from the proud father Austin had imagined Brock once had.
"Getting pummeled by your own son isn't exactly a great look," Austin said lightly, hoping to break the tension. But his voice carried more curiosity than humor.
Flint let out a bitter laugh, a dry, hollow sound. "I earned it," he muttered. "Every punch, every bruise—I earned all of it."
Austin leaned back against the wall behind him, the cold concrete seeping through his jacket. "Why, though? What could you have done to make Brock that angry?"
Flint hesitated, staring at the pavement as if it held all the answers he was struggling to find. The silence stretched long enough that Austin thought he wouldn't answer, but finally, the older man exhaled deeply, his breath shaky.
"It started six years ago," Flint began, his voice heavy with the weight of the past. "Back then, I had it all—a loving family, kids who respected me, and a community that saw me as someone worth admiring. Pewter City was my home, and I was proud of the life I'd built. My wife, Lola, was expecting our tenth child." His voice cracked slightly on the word "tenth."
Austin blinked, surprised. "Tenth? Jeez, did you think a condom was a Pokémon move?"
Flint offered a faint, humorless smile but didn't comment. "Around that time, the position of Pewter City Gym Leader opened up. The old leader had retired, and everyone said I'd be perfect for it. I was strong, experienced, and people looked up to me. It felt like my calling. I even promised Brock that I'd become the new leader—told him it was going to change everything for us. He was so excited... proud of me, even." Flint's hands tightened around the soda can, the metal creaking slightly under the pressure.
Austin stayed quiet, letting him continue.
"I applied for the position. To be a gym leader, you have to prove yourself—earn 1,000 official battle wins and then pass the League's challenge, which involves battling an Elite Four member or their ace Pokémon. It's no small feat." Flint paused, his jaw tightening. "I wasn't ready. I didn't have the strength or the skill. So, I left."
"You left?" Austin repeated, confused.
"I started traveling," Flint clarified. "I told myself it was to train, to get stronger so I could prove myself worthy of the title. But somewhere along the way… I got lost. The training, the battles—they weren't about becoming a better gym leader anymore. They became about me. About the fame. People started recognizing me, cheering my name. And I… I let it consume me."
Flint's voice grew quieter, tinged with shame. "I stopped calling home as much. I told myself it was temporary, that I'd make it up to them once I became gym leader. But the truth was… I liked being away. I liked the freedom. The attention. It was easier than being a husband. Easier than being a father."
Austin frowned, the soda in his hand forgotten. "What about your wife? Your family? Did you just… ignore them?"
"I tried not to think about them," Flint admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But then… the League finally approved my application. I was set to face one of the Elite Four's ace Pokémon in an official match. It was my chance to prove myself. My chance to bring something great back to my family. But…"
Flint closed his eyes, and Austin could see the pain etched deeply into his face.
"But what?"
"Before the match, I got a call," Flint continued, his voice trembling. "Lola was in labor. She'd gone into complications, and the doctors said it wasn't looking good. I should've been there. I should've dropped everything and gone to her. But I didn't."
Austin's stomach turned as the words sank in.
Flint's hands trembled as he spoke, his grip tightening on the can until it crumpled slightly. "I told myself the match wouldn't take long. That I could win quickly and still make it in time. But I didn't. By the time I got back to Pewter, it was too late." His voice broke completely, tears streaming down his face. "Lola… my baby girl… they were gone."
Austin felt a lump rise in his throat. He didn't know what to say. What could he say? He looked down at Pikachu, who had stopped sipping his soda, his ears drooping as if he understood the gravity of the moment.
Flint wiped at his face with his sleeve, his shoulders shaking. "I abandoned them when they needed me most. I let her die alone because I was too selfish to leave that damn match. And for what? A stupid badge? A title I didn't even want anymore?"
The weight of Flint's confession hung heavy in the air, the silence between them almost suffocating. Austin finally managed to find his voice.
"What happened after that?" he asked quietly.
"Brock came home," Flint said, his voice steadier now but no less pained. "He had just finished his first journey as a trainer. He was so proud, so excited to show me everything he'd learned. And there I was—this broken, useless shell of a man. I didn't have the heart to tell him what I'd done. But he figured it out. He always did. Brock's smart like that." Flint laughed bitterly. "I told him everything one night. I thought it would help, thought it would make me feel less… alone. But all it did was destroy him."
Austin could picture it: Brock, young and full of admiration for his father, only to have that image shattered in an instant. It made his chest ache just thinking about it.
"After that, I couldn't face him," Flint said. "I couldn't face any of them. So I ran. I left everything behind and hid like the coward I am."
"You abandoned them," Austin said, his voice sharper than he intended. He immediately regretted it when he saw the way Flint flinched.
"I did," Flint admitted. "And I've regretted it every single day since."
Austin leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "So why come back now?"
Flint looked at him, his bloodied face weary but determined. "Because you reminded me what it means to be responsible," he said simply. "When you told me to stop hiding, it hit me. If I don't try to fix this now, I never will. I'll spend the rest of my life running."
Austin studied him for a long moment, trying to gauge his sincerity. Finally, he nodded. "So, what's your plan?"
Flint exhaled deeply. "Every day, I'll show up. I'll beg Brock and my kids for a chance. I'll work whatever jobs I can find, earn money to help them, even if it's just a little. I'll do whatever it takes to prove to them that I'm not the same man who left."
"That's… going to take a long time," Austin said. "Brock's not exactly the forgiving type."
"I know," Flint replied, his voice steady. "But they're worth it. Every second of it."
Austin nodded slowly. He still wasn't sure how to feel about Flint, but he could respect the man's resolve.
Before they parted, Flint reached into his bag and pulled out the TM, handing it to Austin. "Take this," he said.
"What's this for?"
"Hidden Power," Flint replied. "Think of it as my way of saying thanks. For knocking some sense into me."
"You don't have to—"
"I want to," Flint interrupted. "Do me a favor and use it. That way, even if I fail, I'll know I did one thing right."
Austin hesitated but eventually took the TM, nodding. "I'll put it to good use."
Flint smiled faintly, his eyes tired but hopeful. As Austin watched him walk away, he couldn't help but feel a small glimmer of hope. Maybe Flint had a long road ahead of him, but at least he was finally walking in the right direction. As Flint disappeared from view, Austin took a sip of his soda, the fizzy drink cool against his throat. A thought bubbled to the surface, unbidden. So… what does this mean for me? Am I really going to go through this journey solo without Brock?