Out Of The Ashes (A Pokémon Fanfiction) ~on Hold

Chapter 15: Brock

Chapter 15: Brock

The name hit him like a lightning bolt, and Ash could have smacked himself again. "You're the gym leader!" His guide book detailed the gym, but it had been on the cheaper image and lacked any pictures. Ash could list all of Brock's Pokemon but until now couldn't put a face to the name.

Bashful, the gym leader rubbed the back of his head. "Yep, that's me."

Ash was suddenly speechless. He hadn't expected to see the man until challenging him at the gym. Now that his plans had gone awry, he was at a loss for words.

"I'm going to challenge you in a few days," was all he could think to say, and he couldn't quite help the questioning lilt that twisted his statement.

Brock laughed and jammed his hands in his pockets. "Great! I'll be looking forward to it." He gestured to Tank with a nod of his head. "Is that your only Pokemon?"

Ash subconsciously brushed his fingers across Shade's Pokeball. "No, I have another. A Gastly."

Brock seemed impressed. "Wow, you've got quite the handful on you, don't you? Those Pokemon are pretty difficult to raise correctly."

Ash burned with defensive embarrassment. He knew Brock didn't mean anything by it, but he couldn't help but momentarily question his own capabilities as a trainer. It was true; raising an Aron the right way was hard enough without adding an unruly Ghost-Poison type to the mix. And Ash wasn't even a seasoned trainer yet.

He took a moment to calm himself before answering. Being sarcastic certainly wouldn't endear him to anyone, and Ash found himself actually wanting to impress Brock.

"I'd be open to any tips," he admitted. After all, Brock was a renowned Rock-type specialist. While Aron weren't native to Kanto, the fact that the gym leader recognized one on sight meant that he must have encountered it before.

Brock scratched his chin, accidentally transferring a smudge of dirt to his chin in the process. "Hmm, well I can't really help you out with the Gastly. But I do have a few tricks for Aron." He grinned. "Does your Aron know the move Metal Claw yet? I expect you'd want to get as much type-coverage as you can."

Hardly daring to believe that the man was offering what he was, Ash shook his head slowly. Would the gym leader really teach Tank the move Ash badly needed in order to challenge the gym? What did Brock gain by it?

Brock clapped a hand on his shoulder. A small cloud of dust flew up from the impact. "Well, then! Why don't you meet me at my gym this evening and I'll go over a few things with you?" He gestured sheepishly at his dusty clothing. "I was outside a little while ago training when the curator called me in to analyze a new arrival. Give me a little time to clean up and have some dinner."

Still shocked at how approachable and down-to-earth Brock was, Ash nodded mutely. Brock heartily shook his hand once more, reminded him again to meet him outside the gym, and then left.

Tank snapped out of the happy daze Brock's scratching had put him in and scrambled upright. Ash fixed him with a warning look and Tank drooped mournfully as he remembered nearly taking a hunk out of the table—something Ash had expressly forbidden.

But his crushed look bothered Ash after a few prolonged seconds, and he grudgingly petted the corner of Tank's jaw to show all was forgiven. Tank rumbled appreciatively and brightened up, preening his left foreleg as though nothing had ever happened.

Deciding that he had seen all there was to offer, Ash exited the museum. By now, it was late afternoon and the sun had passed its highest point. The warmth of the gentle rays was welcome after the purified chill of the museum.