Inside Canalave Gym, the air felt heavier, tense with anticipation.
Sam, Brock, and Dawn took their seats in the elevated viewing area along the side, just above the battlefield.
The metallic walls echoed faintly, the floor lined with sturdy battle-worn tiles.
Floodlights cast down a harsh white glow, illuminating the platform where Ash now stood, ready and determined.
He clenched his fists and took a confident step forward.
"I'm Ash, from Pallet Town!" he called out clearly, voice echoing through the gym.
"I am here to challenge this gym!"
From the opposite side of the field, a large figure stepped forward from the shadows.
He wore a thick coat with reinforced shoulder pads, and his voice rumbled like the sound of heavy machinery.
"My name is Byron," the man announced.
"Leader of the Canalave Gym!"
"I specialize in the steel-type—the toughest, most unyielding Pokémon around."
There was a moment of awkward silence.
Sam tilted his head slightly.
Ash, however, didn't skip a beat. He raised his hand with determination.
"Yes, Gym Leader Byron!" he shouted.
"Please give me everything you've got!"
Byron let out a short, gravelly laugh.
"Heh! It's been a while since I've seen a challenger so fired up."
"I accept your challenge!"
He gestured broadly, and the gym's support staff began moving with practiced speed—activating the battlefield sensors, checking Poké Ball projectors, and calibrating the screens.
Within seconds, the field was lit and ready.
From the side bench, Brock leaned over to Sam and whispered, "Byron is Roark's father, the Gym Leader of Oreburgh City."
"That means he's no pushover. Strong bloodline, solid experience."
"And with steel-types," he added, "it's always a grind. They've got high defenses and tons of resistances."
Dawn nodded, pulling up a holographic display from her Pokédex.
"Yeah, it says here steel Pokémon resist eleven out of the eighteen known types."
"That's more than half," she muttered, furrowing her brow.
"This is going to be tough."
The referee raised his hand.
"This will be a three-on-three gym match! Only the challenger may substitute Pokémon. Battle will begin—now!"
Byron moved first.
"Aron, let's go!"
With a flash of white light, a small but solid Aron appeared on the battlefield, its silver armor glinting under the gym lights.
The young steel-type stomped forward, ready to rumble.
Ash didn't hesitate.
"Pikachu, I choose you!"
The little electric mouse leapt forward with a cry, cheeks sparking lightly.
The moment the referee signaled the start, Byron barked his first command.
"Aron, Iron Head!"
Aron's head glowed with a pale metallic sheen as it launched itself forward on stubby legs, charging like a cannonball.
Ash's eyes sharpened.
"Brother Sam said it before..." he muttered to himself, lowering his voice.
"Steel-types—especially ones like Aron—are tanks. If you try to overpower them directly, you'll get nowhere."
"There's no shortcut. Just patience. Wait for the opening, then strike."
He took a breath and called out, "Pikachu, dodge it! Stay agile!"
"Pika!"
With a nimble hop, Pikachu darted sideways, easily avoiding Aron's headlong rush.
"Now! Thunder Shock!"
Electricity sparked and crackled, surging from Pikachu's cheeks and striking Aron square in the back as it stumbled past.
The jolt wasn't overwhelmingly strong, but it forced a pained grunt out of the steel-type.
Sam watched from the stands, noting Ash's change in pace.
He wasn't rushing in like usual. No reckless Quick Attacks or brute-force Thunderbolts.
He was calculating—picking his moments.
"Smart," Sam muttered to himself.
"He's learning to conserve stamina."
Brock nodded. "Looks like your training's paying off."
Back on the field, Aron recovered and charged again.
"Iron Head, once more!"
Aron rushed Pikachu again, slower this time. Ash stayed calm.
"Pikachu, sidestep and circle behind!"
"Pika!"
Pikachu leapt and landed lightly behind the charging Aron, then spun on its heel.
"Thunder Shock again!"
Zzt!
A second jolt of electricity surged into Aron's back.
Sparks danced across its armored shell, and a light tremor ran through its limbs.
Byron narrowed his eyes. "Hmph."
Aron growled, but his movements were slowing.
A slight twitch in its back legs—paralysis was setting in.
Ash noticed immediately. "Good! Pikachu, keep moving! Hit and run!"
The rhythm was set now—Dodge, shock, reposition.
Each time Aron tried to retaliate, Pikachu slipped out of range, and the damage added up.
After a few rounds of this back-and-forth, Aron's speed dropped sharply. It was practically stationary now.
"One more time!" Ash called.
"Thunder Shock!"
ZAP!
Aron finally toppled to the ground, eyes swirling.
"Aron is unable to battle! Pikachu wins!" the referee declared.
Ash pumped his fist.
"Nice job, Pikachu!"
"Pi-ka-chu!" the mouse called proudly, cheeks still sparking faintly.
From the stands, Ash looked up toward Sam, who offered a subtle nod of approval.
Ash beamed.
"He was right," he murmured.
"It's not about going all out every time."
"It's about reading the whole match—timing, momentum, stamina."
"Control the battle, and you control the win."
Encouraged, Ash turned back to the field as Byron prepared his next Pokémon.
The second round began, and with it, Ash's confidence only grew. His tempo tightened, his orders more focused.
Pikachu moved smoother, conserving energy, applying pressure in short bursts.
Little by little, Ash built up his advantage.
When the third and final round came, Pikachu was still standing.
Exhausted, but holding strong.
And then, with one last Thunder Shock, Byron's final Pokémon collapsed.
The battlefield fell silent.
"Steelix is unable to battle. Pikachu is the winner!"
"Victory goes to Ash from Pallet Town!"
Cheers erupted from the sidelines.
"YES!!" Ash shouted, grabbing Pikachu and spinning him in the air.
Brock stood and clapped, letting out a low whistle.
"Wow. He really pulled it off."
Dawn grinned.
"He actually beat three Steel-types with just Pikachu... That's amazing."
Sam smiled to himself but didn't say anything. Ash had done well, not just in terms of strength, but also in terms of growth.
Byron approached Ash across the battlefield and extended a calloused hand.
"You've got guts, kid," he said, grinning behind his beard.
"And more importantly, you've got control."
Sam raised a hand in a silent salute.
Well done, Ash.
"Good job, Ash."
Byron's deep voice rumbled through the gym once more, carrying a note of genuine praise.
"You knew how to use your Pokémon's strengths to their fullest."
He gave a rare smile under his heavy beard.
"You are a fine trainer."
He reached into his coat and pulled out a small silver emblem shaped like two gear cogs interlocked—the Canalave Gym Badge.
With a slow, almost ceremonial motion, he extended it toward Ash.
Ash reached out and took it.
His fingers closed around the cold metal, and for a second, he just stood there, staring.
The badge felt heavier than usual.
Not because of its size or weight, but because of what it meant.
It wasn't the first badge he'd earned on this journey.
But this one… felt different.
There hadn't been a drawn-out struggle. No frantic shouting. No comeback from the brink.
From start to finish, he'd been in control.
A clean, overwhelming victory.
One Pokémon.
Three opponents.
Victory through strategy, not brute force.
This was his first true "one-vs-three" win.
And he knew exactly who to thank.
Ash turned toward the stands and raised the badge high.
"Brother Sam!" he called out, voice ringing with emotion.
"Thank you!"
Without waiting for a reply, he dashed across the gym, bounding up the steps two at a time.
He reached Sam and stopped in front of him, grinning from ear to ear.
Sam rose from his seat, watching the boy's excitement like an older brother might.
"Congratulations," he said, calm as always.
"You earned it."
Ash shook his head, still breathless.
"No—I mean, yes, I earned it, but…"
"Your advice before the match—that changed everything!"
He bowed deeply, holding the badge in both hands like an offering.
"I really mean it. Thank you."
Sam raised an eyebrow but smiled softly.
"It was just a few suggestions."
"But you're the one who put them to use. That's what matters."
Nearby, Brock—formerly the Pewter City Gym Leader—watched the exchange with folded arms and a thoughtful look.
He'd traveled with Ash for a long time. He knew the kid better than almost anyone.
And what he saw today?
That wasn't the same impulsive, hot-headed boy who used to rush into every fight yelling orders like a wild Rapidash.
Ash had changed.
He was thinking, adapting, and leading.
That kind of shift didn't come easily. Not for someone like Ash.
Brock glanced at Sam and let out a low whistle under his breath.
"Just a few words before the match, and Ash changes like that…" he muttered.
"Sam really is something else."
"And Cynthia chose him as her fiancé…" He couldn't help but chuckle.
"Makes perfect sense."
Dawn, still sipping soy milk from earlier, smiled as she watched Ash beam with pride.
Even Pikachu, perched on his shoulder, gave a cheerful cry, "Pika pii~!"
Ash bounced on the balls of his feet.
"I still can't believe it... I actually beat all three with just Pikachu!"
Sam gave him a light pat on the shoulder.
"Don't get cocky. Steel-types might be slow, but next time, your opponent won't give you that much breathing room."
"I know!" Ash said quickly.
"That's why I'm going to train even harder!"
Just then, heavy footsteps echoed from the gym floor below.
Byron had walked over, rubbing his thick arms and chuckling to himself.