The Pantheon

The Cliffs

So, if there was one thing Ashley had learned by now—and there were many, many things—it was never trust appearances.

Sure, Blaine looked like a mad scientist who got lost on the way to a volcano and just decided to live there. And honestly? That wasn’t far off. But the man had a brain like a chessboard set on fire. His battles weren’t just about power; they were pressure cookers. Ashley had walked out of that gym with a badge, three burns, and a long list of notes about psychological baiting during combat.

Then there was Koga. The so-called heartless ninja. Looked like he hadn’t smiled since the First Indigo League. But underneath all the shadowy stares and brutally precise drills, the man was a softie. He trained Ashley and her team like he was raising assassins, then served them herbal tea and mochi after every session. It was adorable. And confusing. But mostly adorable.

Erika? Sweet-spoken, floral-scented, polite to a fault. You’d think she was some kind of gentle, leaf-spinning fairy queen.

She was not.

She was Mother Nature in full wrath mode. Calm on the outside, but if you disrespected her garden or underestimated her Pokémon, you’d be vine-wrapped and Solar Beamed before you could say “synthesis.” Ashley still flinched when she catches the scent of a jasmine perfume.

So yeah—when it came to Gym Leaders, Ashley had stopped making assumptions a long time ago.

She knew Brock wasn’t just some flirt with rock obsessions and a soft spot for his bajillion siblings. Sure, he had a goofy smile, and he offered to cook between training sessions (and wow, the man could cook), but she had clocked the focus in his eyes from the first move of their battle.

What she didn’t expect was that he was dead set on teaching her to patch every single hole in her strategy.

Where Blaine pushed her offensive pressure, Koga drilled status and speed, and Erika elevated field control, Brock?

Brock was all about balance.

“If you’re going to manipulate the battlefield,” he said, arms crossed as he watched Mars struggle to land in one piece, “you better know how to manipulate it in any condition. Not just the ones you made.”

And from there?

Coverage boot camp began.

No pity. No fluff. Just Brock pointing out every weakness like he was scanning her team with X-ray goggles.

“Proserpina’s great, but she almost sank into quicksand. Fix it.”

“Venus has utility but no punch against Steel. Patch it.”

“Mercury? Adorable. Also, defensively naked. Plug the gaps.”

By lunch, Ashley’s notebook was half full. By dinner, her team looked exhausted. Even Vulcan had stopped barking at Aerodactyl and had flopped dramatically in the shade, tongue out like he was melting.

And then—Weather Ball.

When Brock suggested it, Ashley nearly slapped herself.

Hard.

“How did I not think of that?!” she groaned, tugging at her bangs. “I live off weather setups! Terrain control is my thing! I carry four Pokémon with Rain Dance and five with Sunny Day! I could’ve been throwing elemental nukes since Vermilion!”

Brock just smirked. “Guess it’s time to fix that.”

So, they got to work.

And oh boy, they got it done.