"Sato, e down for dinner!"

  "ing."

  With his right hand ed in bandages, Sato stepped down the creaking wooden stairs. I below, a nearly seventy-year-old woman was skillfully setting out bowls and chopsticks.

  In the small living room, a white-bearded old man sat with his mouth slightly opehusiastically watg highlights from st year's Johto League Tour.

  "Still watg? Hurry up a. You're already old…"

  The elderly woman, speaking in a tone vastly different from the one she used with Sato, poi the old man while muttering pints under her breath.

  Sato obediently took his seat, waiting quietly for the meal to begin.

  After a long moment, the old man finally got up from the coud slowly shuffled the ten or so steps to the dining area.

  "Sato, I think out of Johto's starter Pokémon, Feraligatr—"

  BANG!

  "Eat!"

  The old woman smmed a bowl down in front of the old man, gring at him fiercely befently pg another bowl of ri front of Sato.

  "Thank you, Granny Takeno."

  "Aww, I made fish today, so eat plenty!"

  "Mm."

  Across the table, the old man opened his mouth as if to speak, but in the end, he said nothing. He simply grabbed his bowl and aggressively shoveled in a few mouthfuls of rice.

  He picked at some of the side dishes but pletely ighe fish in the ter of the table.

  "Here!"

  Granny Takeno personally picked out a piece of fish without small bones and pced it in the old man's bowl. She didn't say a word—just tinued eating.

  "ime, add more spice," the old man muttered after tasting the fish with a deliberately critical expression.

  "Then why don't you cook ime?"

  "Haha, I think it tastes just fine! Right, Sato?" The old man backed down instantly, smoothly finding an escape route.

  "Yeah, it's delicious!"

  Sato smiled faintly. These two loved to bicker, going bad forth like a pair of children.

  Granny Takeno was a lifelong resident of Lingua Town, a fruit farmer who mainly cultivated Oran Berries, Pecha Berries, and other widely distributed, on berries.

  Her husband, the white-bearded old man, was named Masanobu.

  He was also from Lingua Town but had traveled as a Pokémon Trainer in his younger days. At his peak, his stro Pokémon had been a Pseudo-Elite Four potential Heracross.

  When he eventually realized that his dreams were being more and more distant while reality slowly closed in, he had no choice but to return to Lingua Town.

  Now, he spent his days helping the townspeople deal with Pokémon stealing berries, leading a retively carefree life.

  Sato quietly listeo their banter, gradually feeling his ow settle into a sense of peace.

  After finishing his meal, Sato stepped outside.

  The Takeno couple knew he was a strong Trainer, so after simply reminding him to be back for dinner on time, they let him go without question.

  Ever since leaving the Ghost Ship anization, Sato had been ed by a sense ency, stantly feeling that his strength was insuffit.

  Because of this, he had packed his training schedule to the brim.

  Naturally, su intense regimeo rapid improvement in his Pokémon—but it also came with certain risks.

  The first issue was move proficy.

  Other than the few moves he frequently used in battle, most of his Pokémon's other teiques remai a basic level—usable, but not refined.

  In real bat, half-baked teiques were practically useless.

  Zoroark had Night Daze as its trump card, so its ove proficy wasn't too obvious.

  However, the same couldn't be said for Haunter—aside from Shadow Ball and Sludge Bomb, the effectiveness of its other moves was mediocre at best.

  Another crucial issue—after reag the Elite stage, the most important thing wasn't leveling up quickly. Instead, it was about maximizing a Pokémon's strengths—fully utilizing their Abilities, personalities, and move mastery, while developing deeper applications of their teiques.

  "Zoroark's Illusion Ability needs serious training. In 3v3 battles er, using Illusion for coordinated defense and surprise attacks is almost a guaranteed win."

  Muttering to himself, Sato jotted down key points in his notebook. At that moment, an inspicuous yet lingering gaze fell upon him.

  His sharp senses immediately picked up on it.

  A quice—he spotted a dark-skinned boy peeking from behind a tree, his eyes filled with curiosity.

  Shff!

  Realizing he had been caught, the boy panicked and ducked behind the tree, staying pletely still.

  Sato g Spinarak, who was currently being teased by Hauo the point of frustration.

  It was likely these two that had drawn the boy's attention.

  Ign him, Sato tinued fog on refining his training regimen—first for Zoroark, then Haunter, followed by Larvitar and Spinarak.

  Once he had sorted out each of their training schedules, he took Spinarak and Haunter deeper into the forest, then released the rest of his team.

  For several secutive days, Sato maintaihis same routihe training wasn't overly intense—instead, it focused on familiarizing his Pokémon with their existing capabilities.

  The boy returned every day without fail.

  He never interrupted—just quietly watched Sato train from behind a tree.

  Sato didn't mind. Since he never released Larvitar own, the boy had only ever seen Zoroark, Haunter, and Spinarak.

  The saying "It takes a hundred days to heal from a serious injury" wasn't just an old adage—though Sato's physical dition was far superior to that of ordinary people, his body still couldn't fully recover within a few days.

  Moreover, Lingua Town eaceful and tranquil pce. Aside from merts who arrived every two weeks to collect berries, few outsiders ever visited.

  After a full week of the boy persistently , Sato finally took an i and decided to approach him.

  The first thiiced was a dark, bowl-cut hairstyle—followed by tanned arms from long hours uhe sun.

  Sato wasn't particurly tall yet, but he had been growing rapidly tely, now standing at around 1.56 meters.

  "Got something to say?"

  It had been a while sio had spoken to someone from a position of height. He found himself feeling just a little more tolerant toward the boy.

  "Uh… no, not really! I was just watg…"

  The kid, who probably acted mischievous and bold among his friends, now fidgeted nervously, his voice full of hesitation—almost as if he had been caught doing something wrong.

  "Really?"

  "…Really!"

  "Then don't e b me anymore."

  Sato's face remained expressionless, but he suddenly felt a little devilish inside as he delivered that statement.

  "Huh? W-wait, I—"

  The boy's face flushed red, a mix of frustration and panic appearing on his face.

  "Alright then, off you go."

  "I… I DO have something to say!"

  The boy blurted out, stopping Sato mid-turn.

  "Alright, then say it. What is it?"

  Sato casually lifted Spinarak, who had been tugging at his pant leg, and waited for the answer.

  "I want to bee a Pokémon Trainer!"

  Although he felt that Sato wasn't quite what he had imagihe boy still mustered the ce to voice his dream.

  "And then?"

  "And then…? What do you mean, 'and then'?"

  The boy looked fused, tilting his head.

  "I mean, what do you want from me?"

  "I… uh…"

  The boy fell into a daze.

  What did he want?

  He had heard that a Pokémon Trainer had arrived in town and had rushed over to see what kind of person they were.

  But now, somethi off.

  "Are all Trainers like this? I don't believe it!"