With Mihawk's departure from the tournament, the strengths of the remaining top sixteen contestants became much clearer.
First Tier: Hancock, Brook, Hannyabal, Vista, Kuzan, Charlotte, and Law
Second Tier: Competitors A and B, Morty, Saul
Third Tier: Sachi, Sabo
Bottom Tier: Newgate, Marco
Dak nodded in satisfaction, as the results aligned closely with his expectations.
The role of the Elite Four, however, held a unique significance. These figures, as public representatives of the League, didn't need to be paragons of virtue, but they did need to uphold basic order and the safety of the world's citizens.
For instance, figures like Newgate, Marco, Mihawk, and Sachi might not even want the restrictions that came with being an Elite Four. Besides, they might struggle with the responsibilities.
Dak's ideal candidates were Saul, Hannyabal, Kuzan, and perhaps Morty, Law, or Brook.
The first three, despite their varied pasts with the Navy, shared a sense of justice that aligned with the Pokémon League's mission. They could carry out the Elite Four's duties while truly considering the needs of the common folk.
Morty, Law, and Brook might not be as driven by a deep sense of justice, but they would at least follow orders and fulfill their responsibilities, making them viable candidates.
For others, like Sabo and Vista, who valued freedom, becoming an Elite Four and being bound by its duties would be unappealing. As for Charlotte and Hancock, both were likely unwilling to follow orders strictly.
Still, the tournament wasn't over, and Saul would struggle to beat Hancock. Hannyabal's match against Vista was likely a fifty-fifty.
…
In the Pokémon Center's special cases ward…
"It seems Psyduck and the others have some genetic issues, likely inherited," Reiju said after a thorough examination, which even involved consulting her father, Judge, for research on genetic factors.
"Does it affect them?" Mihawk asked.
"Other than what the shop owner mentioned, they may also face an inability to evolve," Reiju replied, nodding after reviewing the data.
"Does it cause them pain?"
Mihawk was indifferent to the idea of evolution. In fact, he preferred his Pokémon's current forms, which were easier to carry around.
"No, it doesn't," Reiju assured him.
"Then there's no problem."
Satisfied, Mihawk turned to leave, but before he did, he asked, "Can it be treated?"
"With current methods, no—it's too late. But the shop owner might have items that could help."
Reiju knew one thing: what others couldn't do, Dak often could.
"Understood."
If his Pokémon weren't in pain, Mihawk wasn't concerned about a cure. However, he preferred a solution if one existed, so his Pokémon could be completely free of any health issues.
After leaving the Pokémon Center, Mihawk made his way to the location Dak had mentioned.
It had been a while since he last saw Sceptile, and he was curious about how it was living now.
The journey was long, so Mihawk ordered a ride through the Didi Pokémon service. An hour later, after a long trek on the back of a Tauros, he finally arrived.
"Thank you," he said as he got off, his legs feeling numb, but he still showed his gratitude to the hard-working Tauros.
The area was a small forest, likely created specifically for Sceptile.
"Chaamo~"
As Mihawk stepped into the forest, he heard a lazy voice from above.
He looked up and saw a plump Sceptile lounging on a tree branch.
"…?"
Mihawk blinked, surprised. Who had ever heard of a Sceptile that looked like a pineapple?
Sceptile raised an eyebrow, a bead of sweat forming on its forehead in embarrassment. It was well aware of the weight it had gained.
But life had been too good lately, with all meals and accommodations provided, plus massages—it was a pampered lifestyle that even the once-wild, battle-hardened Sceptile couldn't resist.
Once a fierce, roaming swordsman, Sceptile had succumbed to the comforts of luxury.
"What did you call me here for?" Mihawk asked, uninterested in Sceptile's physical changes.
"Cha," Sceptile motioned for Mihawk to follow it, flipping off the branch and navigating the trees gracefully.
While its swordsmanship might be rusty, Sceptile's strength hadn't waned; in fact, Pokémon like Sceptile typically grew stronger as time passed.
Mihawk didn't speak, moving quickly to keep up. He'd left his Pokémon resting at the center, so he had no companions.
Sceptile led Mihawk to a small lake in the forest before stopping.
"Why here?"
"Cha."
Sceptile pointed to a spot by the lake where a Pokémon was training… in swordsmanship?
It was a Farfetch'd—one with a slightly different look.
Mihawk's thoughts flashed back. Dak once told him he might hatch a sword-wielding Pokémon, potentially a Pokémon even more skilled than himself in the art of swordsmanship.
Thinking back on it now, Mihawk smiled wryly at the memory of Dak's capitalistic pep talk.
Nonetheless, Mihawk was grateful to Dak for bringing Psyduck and the others into his life and informing him of their health issues.
"What's the deal?"
"Chaamo, cha."
'Take him. Teach him swordsmanship.'
Sceptile's message was clear.
This Farfetch'd had actually run away from the Safari Zone and sought out Sceptile to learn swordsmanship, seeing it as a master.
But with Sceptile enjoying its cushy life, it had no intention of taking on a disciple, so it refused.
However, Farfetch'd refused to leave.
So, Sceptile thought of Mihawk, and a clever plan formed.
"…?"
Mihawk neither accepted nor refused, a sign of his interest. After all, the idea of training a Pokémon in swordsmanship had always intrigued him.
Now, he noticed that this Farfetch'd was darker in color, with a sharper gaze and a particularly large leek.
This was the Galarian form of Farfetch'd, known for its natural talent for swordsmanship.
"Kwaa!"
'Master!'
Farfetch'd noticed Sceptile and ran over to greet it like an eager fan.
"Chaamo."
'Follow him.'
Sceptile's words sounded odd in human language, but to Pokémon, the meaning was clear—'Become this human's Pokémon.'
"Kwaa kwaa!"
"No, I want to learn swordsmanship from you!"
Farfetch'd refused, shaking its head.
Sceptile was a legendary swordsman, while this human seemed ordinary. Farfetch'd feared it might turn into one of those dazed Pokémon Mihawk had.
"Chaamo chaamo."
'He's a swordsman too. Train with him, and when you can beat him, I'll take you as my disciple.'
This was Sceptile's scheme—a plan to shift the focus onto Mihawk.
"Kwaa."
'Fine!'
Farfetch'd nodded. To him, defeating Mihawk seemed like a minor obstacle.
"…"
Mihawk didn't understand Farfetch'd's words but grasped Sceptile's intentions.
Sceptile patted Mihawk's shoulder, giving him a thumbs-up and a wink, as if to say, 'I'm leaving it to you.'
"Kwaa!"
'I'll defeat you!'
Farfetch'd pointed its leek at Mihawk.
"…Interesting."
Mihawk didn't fully understand its words but recognized the challenge in its eyes.
The thought of training alongside a Pokémon in swordsmanship rekindled Mihawk's passion for his craft. He could already imagine his practice sessions becoming more engaging.
With that, Mihawk took Farfetch'd with him.
And so, Mihawk returned to his swordsmanship routine, embarking once more on the path of a swordsman, accompanied by Sceptile and Farfetch'd.
(End of Chapter)
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