Pokemon: The Controversial World

-The Awakening of the Rock: A Battle Beyond Attacks

Silence weighed over the arena. I stood alone at the center of the rocky battlefield, my steps kicking up fine dust particles that settled back down as if they had given up on the idea of flying.

Facing me: Brock.

Static. Rigid. Cold.

He was an extension of these rock-carved walls. A being shaped by the pressure of time and responsibility. Unshakable, yet eroded by wear.

— Geodude, come forward.

His tone was devoid of emotion. He spoke to Geodude the way one would sign an official document.

The Rock-type Pokémon breathed heavily. No exuberance, no particular aggression. Just a mechanical movement, a well-oiled cog in the machine that was this gym.

I waited for a reaction. A twitch. A spark in his eyes.

Nothing.

— Tackle.

Geodude lunged forward, its rigid body bouncing slightly on the uneven ground. No tricks. No Rock Polish to increase speed. No cunning. Just a raw, predictable attack.

Brock was testing nothing.

I clenched my fists discreetly. This wasn't a battle—it was a formality. He was just going through the motions.

A Gym Leader's goal isn't to win at all costs. They are meant to challenge trainers, push them to their limits, make them understand their worth.

Brock was doing none of that.

He wasn't just trapped in this gym. He was trapped inside himself.

This wasn't endurance strategy. It wasn't disdain.

It was indifference.

And that indifference irritated me.

— Rattata, dodge.

My Pokémon leaped precisely, avoiding the attack with ease.

I analyzed the situation one last time.

Then, I made a decision.

I had to force him to react.

I recalled Rattata immediately and twirled a more precious PokéBall between my fingers.

A faint murmur spread through the arena as I threw it.

A golden flash streaked across the battlefield.

— Pikachu, come forward.

The referee's eyes widened. A Shiny Pokémon wasn't something you saw every day. Pikachu's electric aura crackled in the air, its fur shimmering under the spotlights.

Brock reacted.

Subtle, imperceptible to an ordinary spectator. But to me, it was clear.

A slight shift in his posture. A slower blink.

It was a start.

— Pikachu, Thunder Shock.

Electricity surged—but not toward Geodude.

It struck the ceiling.

A deep rumble echoed.

Then, the rock gave way.

Fragments started falling—small at first, then larger and larger.

The referee panicked immediately.

— Stop the battle!

The audience began to back away.

But I didn't move.

I waited.

Rocks crashed down in controlled chaos. I mentally calculated their trajectories. Nothing unexpected.

— What are you doing?! Brock exclaimed, his mask of indifference cracking.

He was angry.

Not afraid. Not worried. Angry.

A man devoid of feeling doesn't get angry.

— Pikachu is trapped! I shouted deliberately, feigning surprise.

I threw his Poké Ball to recall him—but let it fall intentionally. It rolled, cracked, became unusable.

I had no choice but to go myself.

Without hesitation, I ran.

Ahead of me, I heard rushed footsteps.

Brock was running too.

— You're completely insane! he yelled, dodging a falling rock.

A block crashed inches from me. I maneuvered around it and spotted Pikachu, curled up beneath an unstable boulder.

Before I could react, Brock leapt.

He grabbed Pikachu with precision, holding him tight before rolling to the side to avoid the falling debris.

He stopped, panting.

Silence fell.

He looked at the trembling Pokémon in his arms.

His grip tightened.

And he froze.

No longer a Gym Leader, no longer a mechanical trainer.

Just a man, holding a fragile creature in his arms.

His fingers trembled slightly.

Then Pikachu opened his eyes.

A small, cheerful sound escaped his mouth:

— Pika!

A smile.

An innocent, sincere smile.

The kind of smile one forgets when spending too much time being strong.

Brock let out a quiet gasp.

He turned his face slightly, but I saw his shoulders tense.

Then… a tear fell.

I remained silent.

He wasn't just a Gym Leader.

He was a brother, a protector, a pillar.

But a pillar eventually erodes if no one helps it bear the weight.

I murmured softly:

— A rock is not a mountain, but it is part of one.

He lifted his head, eyes red.

He understood.

He took a deep breath, then looked at me.

A faint smile crossed his face.

— Let's finish this match.

He was smiling.

— But this time, you might lose.

His tone was firmer.

More alive.

The gym was once again a battlefield.

But this time, the real battle was about to begin.