They left for Pallet Town early the next morning.
Brock noticed the shift the moment they started walking. Something between Ash and Misty had changed again after they'd come back the previous night.
They carried themselves differently. Whatever had happened on that cliff, it had settled something in both of them.
Brock had his suspicions. He kept them to himself.
Delia met them at the door. Warm hugs, warm kitchen, the familiar smell of home. And within thirty seconds of stepping inside, she clocked it. The energy between Ash and Misty had transformed since their last visit. Before, the current had flowed one direction. Now it ran both ways.
Ash didn't make her wait.
He set down his bag, took Misty's hand, stood in front of his mother, and said: "Mom, this is my girlfriend. Misty."
Misty's face ignited. "H-hello, Aunt Delia."
She bowed, flustered, heart pounding. She'd known this conversation was coming. She hadn't known it was coming now.
Ash hadn't mentioned on the walk home that he planned to announce it the instant they walked through the door.
But beneath the panic, something warm spread through her chest. This was Ash. Direct, honest, incapable of hiding anything. He'd claimed her in front of his mother without a second's hesitation.
Whatever embarrassment that cost her, the security it gave her was worth more.
Delia's face broke into the widest smile Misty had ever seen on another human being.
"Good. Good. I never thought I'd see this day." She clasped her hands together, beaming at Misty. "I spent years convinced this boy was going to end up alone. Misty, thank you for liking our Ash. And if he ever gives you trouble, come straight to me. I'll handle him."
Misty covered her mouth and laughed. Ash's eye twitched.
"Does every mother trash-talk her own son like this? I'm not that hopeless."
"Your looks come from me, so those are fine. Your skills as a trainer, excellent. Your ability to read another person's feelings?" Delia tilted her head. "I've been worried about you finding a partner since you were twelve. I'm just grateful someone was willing to take the project on."
Ash gave up arguing. She wasn't wrong. With his previous track record, finding even one girlfriend would have been a statistical anomaly.
But he had one now. And that was enough.
Delia disappeared into the kitchen with renewed energy, already planning a celebratory dinner since the morning groceries wouldn't stretch to a full spread for lunch.
While Delia cooked, Ash and Misty headed to Oak's Laboratory. Professor Oak was in his study, still deep in research notes on Annihilape. Gary was in the training yard, pushing his Pokémon through drills.
When he saw Ash walk in holding Misty's hand, his brain stalled for a full second.
That blockhead got a girlfriend?
The surprise lasted about three seconds before Gary's competitive instincts reframed the situation. A relationship meant distractions. Distractions meant a slower rate of improvement. This was his window to close the gap.
He'd figure out the details later. For now: train harder.
After the introductions, Ash made his way to the backyard where his Pokémon were gathered. The whole team was there, and the atmosphere was warm.
Every member had seen battle time during the Conference, and each had claimed at least one knockout. Ash had structured his rotations to give everyone a chance to contribute, even the members who sat lower in his roster's power rankings.
The one who felt it most was Infernape.
It stood apart from the group, watching Ash approach with an intensity that went beyond the usual post-victory glow. Infernape had been on the team for the shortest time, but the bond ran deep in ways the others' didn't. Every step of its journey, from abandoned Chimchar to Conference finalist, traced back to Ash.
And to Paul.
Infernape held no resentment toward its former trainer. That truth would have surprised most people who knew the story, but Infernape understood Paul better than outsiders ever could. The brutal training, the withheld medical treatment, the relentless pressure that pushed a small Chimchar to the edge of death: all of it had been Paul's method of forcing Blaze to activate.
The only time Chimchar had triggered its ability before Ash was in a moment of genuine desperation, its body's survival instinct overriding every limiter. Paul had been trying to recreate that state through controlled crisis.
Toward his other Pokémon, Paul was strict but never cruel. With Chimchar, the approach had been different. Harsher. More extreme. Not out of malice, but out of a belief that this particular Pokémon could only unlock its potential through suffering.
Infernape didn't blame Paul for that. It blamed itself. Why wasn't I strong enough, even then? When Paul had released it, Infernape's first thought hadn't been anger. It had been guilt. The belief that it had failed the trainer who'd invested in it.
Ash had changed everything.
Ash had shown Infernape that growth didn't require pain. That becoming stronger and being cared for weren't mutually exclusive. That the dreams it had dismissed as impossible were within reach, if it had the right person standing beside it.
Every wound had healed. Every regret had been addressed.
Except one.
Paul's recognition. That was the knot Infernape had carried into the Championship final. The reason it had pushed past every limit, burned through every reserve, and refused to stay down no matter how many times its body told it the fight was over.
That fight had left an impression on the entire team. Annihilape and Charizard, two Pokémon who understood desperation better than most, had watched Infernape's performance in the final with something close to awe.
They fought hard. Infernape had fought like it was trying to burn a hole through the concept of limits.
It had recovered in full. Ash and Venusaur's combined treatment left no lingering damage, no side effects.
But Ash had been clear: that style of fighting was not to become a habit. The risks were too high. This time, Infernape's need to face Paul had been an obsession so deep it bordered on overflow, and that was the only reason Ash had allowed it.
Infernape had agreed. Whether it would keep that promise if another fight demanded everything... that depended on the stakes. It fought for Ash now. Only for Ash. And if a battle for Ash's sake required everything, then everything was what Ash would get.
After spending time with the full roster in Oak's backyard, Ash released the Pokémon he was carrying. Pikachu, Charizard, Gardevoir, Lucario, Mewtwo, and Lugia Jr.
The first five drew familiar greetings. The sixth drew stares.
Most of the backyard Pokémon had never seen the pitch-black creature that materialised beside Ash. Small, sleek, dark in a way that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. Curious eyes turned toward Ash, waiting for an explanation.
Gengar recognised it first. The Ghost-type had seen enough of the world to know what it was looking at.
"A Lugia? Ash, how did you get your hands on a Lugia? And a Shiny one?! Do you have any idea how rare..."
"It's not Shiny." Ash cut him off. "Lugia Jr. was experimented on. Villains altered its typing."
He gave the short version. The capture, the forced conversion from Psychic to Dark, the rescue, and what came next.
"So you're heading to the Orange Islands," Gengar said, piecing it together. "Find Team Galactic's base, help Cynthia wipe it out, and track down Lugia Jr.'s family to see if the type change can be reversed."
Ash nodded. The situation was complicated. Dark-type was the natural enemy of Psychic-type. Whether Lugia's family would accept a Dark-type variant of their own species was an open question.
The best outcome was reversal. Return Lugia Jr. to its original Psychic typing and bring it home. If the family couldn't reverse the change but still accepted Lugia Jr., that worked too. If they refused to acknowledge it...
Ash wouldn't let them touch Lugia Jr. That much was non-negotiable. Whatever happened after that would be Lugia Jr.'s choice.
But the Orange Islands came second. First: Dragon Island.
Five days passed. Ash, Paul, and Gary arrived at the Indigo Plateau at the appointed time.
Lance was waiting. Behind him stood three Dragonite, each one radiating the calm, heavy pressure of Elite Four-level power. Ash scanned them and felt a quiet disbelief.
The Dragon Tamer Clan's depth was staggering. Three Elite-tier pseudo-legendaries, deployed as transport, like it was nothing.
"Before we depart, there are rules." Lance's voice carried the weight of someone who had given this briefing before and meant every word. "You'll be blindfolded for the flight. Dragon Island's location is classified. Maps have been uploaded to your Pokédexes, scaled by your tournament placement. First place gets the widest range. Second and Third can access restricted areas, but only after passing tests at the entry points."
He paused to make sure they were listening.
"Dragon Island is not safe. The Dragon-type Pokémon that live there are territorial and aggressive. Step into the wrong zone and you will be attacked. If you can't win, run. Leave their territory and they won't pursue. Stay, and you may not see the next morning."
The island belonged to the Dragon Tamer Clan, but they didn't manage it. They guarded it. The Pokémon inside lived, fought, and developed on their own terms, free from human intervention. Once the three Dragonite dropped Ash and the others off, they would withdraw. Lance would not be joining them.
"One last thing." Lance's expression hardened. "You have three days. Food, shelter, survival, all on you. After three days, gather at the island's entrance. Whether you've caught a Pokémon or not, you leave. Anyone who fails to appear on time will face consequences."