Chapter 27. Fighting Dojo

True to his word, Alex made a trip to the Fighting Dojo after reviving Raticate. He needed time for a pep talk anyway, and the 20-minute bus ride northwest was just enough. On the bus, Alex held Raticate on his lap while Growlithe sat by his leg. Nothing said "don't bother me" quite like a menacing Raticate perched on a child's legs. "You lost because you got blindsided by a new way to counter you. It wasn't because you were weak or because you've reached your limit. It's simply because you got stronger—and now, your world has gotten bigger." "You need to think bigger as well, or you'll never gain strength again. Broaden your horizons and make as many mistakes as possible. Only by learning from them will you be able to reclaim your crown," Alex said as he gently stroked Raticate's back. "Rati! (I will.)" Raticate responded, his fighting spirit rekindled. "Well said, young man," came a voice from across the bus. An older man sat opposite Alex, nodding in approval. "Don't be afraid of losing, because every loss is a lesson. Be afraid of winning, because there's nothing left to learn. To learn is to grow, and to grow is to become stronger. So lose as much as you can while you're still young! Hahaha—cough, cough—" he trailed off, suddenly caught in a coughing fit. Alex raised an eyebrow. "You okay there, old man? Wouldn't want you dying on a bus. That'd be depressing." "Hah! I've still got a few more decades in me. Just swallowed some spit the wrong way," the old man replied with a chuckle. Alex smirked. "As long as you don't die, we'll call it even. Thanks for the pep talk—we appreciate it." "It's nothing. So where are you headed to?" "Fighting Dojo." "Getting an early gym badge?" Gym badges served as certifications that a gym recognized a trainer's skill based on its own criteria. Contrary to popular belief, earning a badge didn't always require winning a gym battle—sometimes, all that mattered was securing the gym's approval. In return, the gym staked its reputation on the trainer, with the League's blessing. If a trainer later betrayed their expectations through misconduct, the gym had the right to revoke the badge. Unlike in the games, gym badges here also acted as proof of credibility, granting trainers access to tougher missions from the League, which they could check out at any Pokémon Center. Over time, these badges became a trainer's résumé, showcasing their accomplishments once their journey came to an end—whenever or wherever that might be. It was a cool system that didn't enforce responsibility beyond ensuring Pokémon didn't run amok in a trainer's immediate area. Trainers weren't even obligated to fight criminals unless they joined an organization specifically tasked with handling them—such as the police, rangers, gyms, or Interpol. Their only true responsibility? Battling Pokémon. "No, a gym trainer named Big Joe recommended me as a hit-and-run specialist to train with the other gym trainers. He mentioned money, and, well... Growlithe here eats five times as much as Raticate." "Five times?! That's like feeding an entire team when you only have two Pokémon!" the old man exclaimed, making Growlithe bashfully hide his face against Alex's leg. Alex patted him reassuringly before defending his partner. "He's got five times the stamina too, so it evens out. But money's been tight lately. I've only got two Pokémon, yet I've already burned through half my budget—and I still have two and a half years before I graduate." The old man chuckled. "Well, I hope your Pokémon are ready for a rough time. Those kids don't slack off." "We were told we'd fit right in, so we'll see," Alex replied. The conversation continued until the bus finally arrived at the Fighting Dojo. The Fighting Dojo was far larger than its in-game counterpart, which could barely fit a dozen people. In reality, it was a massive five-story building, with a ground floor spacious enough to hold a thousand people. Inside, over a hundred trainers were engaged in sparring—either with each other or alongside their Pokémon. It was an interesting sight, seeing so many people practicing the same kind of morning training Alex did. The sheer number of Pokémon here was even more impressive, easily outnumbering the trainers three to one. Approaching the front desk, Alex addressed the receptionist—a pretty woman with a long ponytail, dressed in a gi. "Hello, I was sent by Big Joe as a hit-and-run specialist," he introduced himself. "Big Joe already called ahead for you, so we've been informed. Leave me your account number so we can process your payment per fight. Head up to the second floor to start your session." "Thanks." Alex made his way upstairs, carefully observing the sparring matches taking place around him. The dominant fighting styles were karate, judo, boxing, and kickboxing—all disciplines he was already familiar with. While there were subtle differences in technique, it was understandable that efficient striking and grappling would always revert to fundamental principles. Reaching the second floor, Alex was greeted by a more structured battle arena layout. There were twenty medium-sized arenas, noticeably smaller than those at the academy. It made sense—no one would bring an Onix here to practice boxing. As he scanned the room, another receptionist—who turned out to be the fight coordinator—waved him over. His job seemed to be manually pairing trainers for battles, a more hands-on approach than Alex was used to. "You… Alex?" the man asked, checking his phone for confirmation. "Yes. Hit-and-run specialist." "Great! We've been needing a replacement ever since our usual guy left for another journey. For now, you'll be stationed in that corner over there," he said, pointing to the right corner of the room, closest to the stairs Alex had just come up from. "Just fight when another trainer steps into your battleground—no need for formality. They'll be ready for it. If your Pokémon get hurt, you can use that healing station over there," he added, gesturing toward a wall-mounted kiosk conveniently located next to Alex's assigned area. Alex nodded. This setup was efficient. Alex made his way over, and no sooner had he stepped into the battleground and released Raticate and Growlithe than he found himself immediately swarmed by eager challengers. Unbeknownst to him, hit-and-run specialists were typically Ghost- or Flying-type Pokémon—the kind that a Fighting-type gym would never hire. But Raticate? It was perfect. Fast, grounded, and relentless, it didn't vanish into thin air or fly out of reach. It stayed in the fight, offering a true challenge. Faced with an overwhelming number of eager opponents, Alex had an idea. "Since there are so many of you, how about this?" he proposed. "Experts can fight my Raticate, while Adepts take on my Growlithe. This would be Growlithe's first real battle, but trust me—he has the stamina to keep all of you entertained. As for Raticate, he doesn't need instructions for his hit-and-run strategy." His offer was met with immediate excitement. "I'll fight the Growlithe! Go, Hitmonlee!" "Dibs on Raticate! Go, Hitmonchan!" Alex nodded and gave quick commands. "Raticate, take care of yourself. Focus on your Quick Attack game, stay mindful of Protect, use Swords Dance when you see an opening, and Thunder Wave when they're faster. You'll be fine." "Rati! (Leave it to me!)" He turned to his Growlithe, who was practically vibrating with excitement. "Come on, Growlithe—let's see what you're made of." "Grau! (Fight!)" The battlegrounds were split into two sides. To Alex's left was Raticate, who had already started harassing Hitmonlee, while on the right was his Growlithe, ready for his first fight. "Hitmonchan, Bulldoze!" "Agility, get away!" Hitmonchan raised his shoulder guard and dashed toward Growlithe, dragging his feet across the ground and kicking up a dust cloud as he bulldozed a path forward. Though slower, Growlithe was just far enough away to complete Agility before Hitmonchan arrived. Now significantly faster, Growlithe dashed off, encircling Hitmonchan at dizzying speeds. "Hitmonchan, Swift!" Alex was perplexed—why not use Aura Sphere? But he took the opportunity to set up. "Sunny Day!" Growlithe sat up and basked in the ball of fire forming in the sky as the move activated. Meanwhile, Hitmonchan threw a flurry of punches, sending out golden stars that homed in on Growlithe, striking him square in the chest. "Tch! Mach Punch! Get in close, then use Close Combat!" "Will-O-Wisp." At blinding speed, Hitmonchan dashed in, landing a solid, orange-glowing right hook on Growlithe's face. Growlithe took the hit like a champ, then countered with a glowing red wisp, setting Hitmonchan ablaze. Hitmonchan's body flashed orange again as he prepared to unleash Close Combat. "Protect." A translucent barrier formed just as Hitmonchan unleashed a barrage of punches against it. His fists pounded the shield relentlessly until his aura faded and he suddenly looked exhausted. "Tch. Facade." His trainer decided to take advantage of the burn. "Psychic Fangs." Growlithe's jaws glowed dark pink as he sank his fangs into Hitmonchan's side. In retaliation, Hitmonchan landed a crushing, gray-hued haymaker that nearly doubled Growlithe over. "Drain Punch!" "Protect." Another shimmering shield blocked the orange-glowing right straight punch, which harmlessly tapped against the barrier. "Close Combat! Finish it!" "Psychic Fangs again." Alex quickly calculated—based on the burn damage, even if this Hitmonchan were level 36 or 37, Growlithe would still win if he landed this final attack. Growlithe's fangs glowed dark pink once more as he bit into Hitmonchan's other side. Hitmonchan, a beat too late to unleash Close Combat, staggered before collapsing, officially losing the match. "Return, Hitmonchan." The opposing trainer sighed, recalling his Pokémon. "That was a close fight, but I thought you were a hit-and-run specialist?" Alex smirked. "Growlithe doesn't have a priority move like you do, so I had to improvise. Besides, it was his first fight." "Well, congratulations. I'll go get my Hitmonchan healed." "Sure. Growlithe, Morning Sun." Growlithe sat and gazed up at the sky, absorbing the last remnants of Sunny Day as his wounds rapidly healed—just as the sunlight faded. It was only then that Hitmonchan's trainer realized the truth. That Sunny Day wasn't just for boosting Fire-type moves. It had been a failsafe all along. The fight wasn't close at all. Alex had an unused trump card the entire time. ----- Support me on Patreon patreon/babywrath