"Powerful, my ass!" Gast stood akimbo. "Isn't my Shadow Ball powerful? Isn't my Will-O-Wisp dramatic enough? Let me go in and run a full combo—I promise I'll beat him so hard he'll see stars!"
"You're the one who's afraid of the cold. You'll probably just stand there getting hit," Iron Valiant pointed out mercilessly.
"So what!" Gast shot back, full of righteous fury. "I'm a Gengar! I can float! He can't hit me! Jason, say something and tell him to stand down!"
"Float? Ice-types casually counter Flying-types. What does being floaty do for you?" Iron Valiant kept twisting the knife.
"You—!" Gast was about to explode on the spot.
Behind them, Miraidon yawned, emitting a faint electric hum.
"Hmph. Ridiculous."
It had zero interest in this squabble. Gym-level fights like this, Jason would never send him in anyway.
Across the way, Grusha watched the lively scene in silence. His expression barely changed, but the fingers holding his Poké Ball twitched.
He could tell this Gengar and Iron Valiant were actually arguing over who got to go first.
"Maybe they're worried for each other," he thought. "Each wants to take the initial pressure."
In all his time as a gym leader, this was his first time seeing a challenger's Pokémon bickering over who gets to go on first.
Just as Gast and Iron Valiant were about to go from war of words to actual blows, Jason spoke.
"Alright, alright, knock it off."
He sighed. With all their eyes on him, instead of stepping back, he walked forward—past Gast and Iron Valiant—to stand alone facing Grusha.
"For this gym challenge…" Jason paused. "I'm going in myself."
The words were quiet—but every Pokémon froze.
The hand signal Gast had been about to throw for a surprise attack on Iron Valiant hung in midair. Her big mouth drooped open; her purple eyes went round.
"Huh? Jason? You?" Even her pitch changed. "You don't have a fever, do you? Aren't you the one who hates getting his own hands dirty?"
Iron Valiant was stunned as well. "You're going in personally?"
In his mind, Jason was the Trainer. He was supposed to send them first, and only when they couldn't fight anymore would Jason step in.
The most shocked of all was Miraidon.
The legendary Pokémon had been maintaining its aloof cool this whole time—now its head snapped up, purple optics locked on the small pink blob that was Jason.
"Oh?"
A low, questioning rumble spilled from its throat.
"You, of all lazy things, are going to fight yourself?"
Of everyone here, Miraidon knew best how lazy Jason was. If he could ride, he'd never float. If he could send teammates, he'd never transform.
Did the sun rise in the west today?
Grusha, too, raised a brow.
"You want to challenge me yourself?" he confirmed.
"Yes," Jason said.
He ignored his teammates' stunned stares and instead smiled at Grusha—well, what counted as a smile for a Ditto: just a little wobble across the body.
"Heh-heh," he chuckled.
"Of course I have to go in myself," he said, voice weirdly excited. He cleared his throat. "I have to avenge Liko, after all!"
The summit wind stopped. The snow stopped. Time froze.
"Liko?"
Gast was the first to react. She zipped right up into Jason's face, so close she was practically squashing into him.
"What's this got to do with Liko?"
As for the supposed target of vengeance, Grusha was the most bewildered one there.
"Revenge?" he repeated, pointing at himself, then glancing at the empty snowfield around them. "Revenge for what, exactly?"
His expression control finally broke; pure confusion showed on his face.
"The Liko you're talking about—I've never even heard that name. You've got the wrong guy."
"Nope, nope! It's you!" Jason shot back immediately.
He waved his floppy "hand," telling everyone to quiet down.
"It's nothing you have to worry about," he told Grusha. "You just need to know one thing: today I have to beat you up."
"Just swing and it's done!"
In his head, an epic battle theme was already blaring.
He stared at Grusha's delicate face and ranted internally:
"That's right—you, you bastard!"
"Sure, it hasn't happened yet—"
"But it will be you, Grusha! One day in the future, you're the one who makes Liko-chan cry!"
He remembered the scene: Liko singled out by Grusha, her eyes red and wet, the very picture of heartbreak.
"She's just a kid—and you go that hard on her?"
"Today I'll be justice incarnate! I'll settle this grudge early!"
The more he thought about it, the angrier he got.
Grusha was completely thrown by this baseless battle frenzy.
This challenger… might not be all there.
First he gets caught ditching work, then he starts spouting some random revenge speech?
"…Fine," Grusha decided to stop thinking about it. Talking was a waste of time.
"As you wish."
He stopped wasting words and tossed his Poké Ball. "Frosmoth. Ready."
White light flashed, and a white moth with crystal-coated wings appeared in the center of the field. Its wings beat, sprinkling cold scales.
The temperature on the already frigid summit dropped several more degrees. Even the air stung.
"Challenger. Send out your Pokémon," Grusha said, pulling his scarf back up into battle mode.
"Gotcha."
Jason turned and shouted to his still-dazed teammates. "Everyone back up—give me space, don't get accidentally hit. Watch me work."
"Jason, can you really do this?" Gast still wasn't convinced. "Why don't I go first? We can talk about that Liko thing later—"
"A man can't say he can't," Jason said firmly.
He turned to Frosmoth—and his body began to change.
Transform!
His surface temperature shot up. The pink jelly stopped wobbling and started simmering; white steam hissed into the freezing air.
Grusha's eyes widened.
In front of him, the Ditto's body rolled and compressed, then suddenly stretched. Legs stomped into the snow, then torso, then arms. Armor plates formed rapidly, snapping into place over the body.
Most striking of all: the hands.
Twin swords extended from his wrists—blades wreathed in energy, purple, ghostly fire licking along their length.
In under a second, the squishy Ditto was gone.
In its place, a Ceruledge—twin blades drawn, armor glowing with fire, standing quietly in the snow.
Ceruledge.
The heat from his flames clashed with the blizzard, creating a warped, hollow space between him and Frosmoth.
"Ceruledge," Grusha said aloud. His eyes sharpened.
"Interesting."
Jason rolled his neck, armor scraping faintly. His voice changed with the form—deeper, husky, with a magnetic edge.
"Alright then. Today, I'm collecting Liko's tab."
"I said I don't know who that is!" Grusha snapped.
Jason's transform shifted the whole atmosphere. On this mountaintop, cold had been the only theme—until those twin ghost-flames brought a second color into the world. Heat clashed with winter, sizzling softly.
From the moment he transformed, Grusha's gaze never left him.
"Ceruledge…" he repeated.
Fire/Ghost.
His first Pokémon, Frosmoth—Ice/Bug.
A disastrous matchup.
Fire vs. Ice: 2x effective. Fire vs. Bug: 2x effective. Meaning every Fire move Jason landed would hit Frosmoth for four times the damage.
A one-shot waiting to happen.
Ditto, huh? What a pain.
"Jason's so cool!" Gast had turned into a cheer squad, fists pumping. "That's it! Go! Burn it! Show that gym leader how strong we are!"
Iron Valiant said nothing, but his blades brightened by ten percent. Miraidon flicked its tail, bored. It already had an idea how this would end. Bullying, honestly.
And yet, as the one being "bullied," Grusha didn't show a hint of panic. He stood, scarf up, eyes cold as ice.
Ditto could copy others, sure—but their stamina bars were always a weak point. If Frosmoth could just stall a few turns, the next Pokémon could finish the job. Four times weakness or not—he wouldn't last long.
On that, Grusha was confident.
He glanced at Frosmoth.
It looked back, waiting. Of course he knew type charts—he was an Ice leader; every day challengers showed up trying to steamroll him with Fire. If he couldn't manage this, the League would have canned him long ago.
Fire/Ghost was tricky—but that was it.
His eyes hardened. He gave his first command.
"Frosmoth," his voice cut through the cold, "Tailwind."
The call made Jason blink.
Frosmoth didn't shy back from its natural predator. On hearing its trainer, it beat its wings—not toward Ceruledge, but toward the sky. A strong gust burst from under them—not cold, but tinged with greenish energy.
The wind shot up and blew apart, fragmenting into invisible currents that blanketed the peak. On Grusha's side, the air sped up.
"What's he doing?" Gast asked. "Is he not going to attack? Just… fanning himself?"
"No," Iron Valiant's optics flickered. "He's boosting Speed. That move will double the Speed of his entire team for the next few turns."
"What?" Gast yelped. "Then all the Pokémon he sends out next will be faster than us?"
Jason frowned.
"This guy…"
His inner rant spilled out:
"Good grief. Definitely a pro. Opens by clocking he can't win this straight up, doesn't get greedy, not counting on Frosmoth to beat me."
"He's using his first Pokémon to pave the way for the rest."
He knew it well. Frosmoth was slow, and Ceruledge wasn't exactly lightning either—but with Tailwind on, everything Grusha sent after this would have doubled Speed.
When that happened, Jason would lose the initiative entirely.
"This leader is trouble," he thought. "He's not trying to win this round—he's trying to win the whole match."
Grusha's intentions were clear—but he gave no time to adjust.
As the Tailwind currents still spun in the air, Grusha's second command dovetailed in seamlessly.
"Blizzard!"
Here it comes.
Jason's focus snapped razor sharp.
Frosmoth shifted into position. Facing Ceruledge, it spread its wings wide. The natural snowstorm atop the mountain was already its home turf.
"Fwoom!"
A terrifying cold blast erupted from Frosmoth's center. Not a snowball, not a few icicles.
A full "Blizzard."
All the snow on the summit lifted—mixed with subzero air into a towering white wall of storm. The zone it covered swallowed half of Jason's side.
"Whoa!" Gast yelped, retreating fast. "That area's huge! This Frosmoth is strong!"
Miraidon stood up, feeling the energy in that gale. In snow, this Blizzard's power had jumped several tiers—and with natural snow, Blizzard's accuracy was now 100%.
Undodgeable.
A map-wide move.
Grusha's plan was simple:
First, Tailwind, to prime the future.
Second, Blizzard, to force a brutal trade.
You might have 4x advantage, but I'm Ice—and your Fire moves are mostly special attacks.
My Frosmoth's Ability is "Shield Dust"!
Shield Dust: halves incoming damage from special moves.
Grusha's math was tight.
Jason's Bitter Blade was Fire-physical—but most of Ceruledge's Fire moves were special. Even if he used Bitter Blade, he'd have to charge through Blizzard first.
If Jason dared eat this Blizzard, his Ceruledge might not be frozen—but he'd definitely lose a big chunk of health.
A Frosmoth doomed to fall, traded to set Tailwind and maul the enemy ace?
A bargain.
~~~
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