Work Text:
Constant noise and chatter pounded against Iris’s ears. The crowd of reporters clustered in front of the stage where she and the rest of the Master 8 sat, their endless questions creating a wall of sound. Her foot had been thumping against the ground so long she’d lost count of the minutes.
She couldn’t believe she was stuck here. Stupid Master 8 responsibilities. She was one of the strongest trainers in the world, but instead of battling, she was trapped in this meaningless press conference. Her teeth clenched tight. All I want is to fight—why is that so hard?
A sideways glance showed the others growing restless too. This whole thing had been a waste of time. As expected, nearly every question had gone to Leon and Cynthia, the top-ranked trainers whose looming showdown captivated the world. The two handled it all with elegance, their experience obvious with each smooth answer.
Iris couldn’t say the same. She was about to lose it.
Crowds had always made her uneasy. Life in the Village of Dragons had been quiet, far from the chaos of cities. If not for Alder’s training, she doubted she’d last five minutes here. His advice had been simple: don’t make a fool of yourself. He hated meetings as much as she did.
Iris let out a weary sigh, silently praying this would be over soon.
Finally, something new broke the monotony. A reporter with vivid red hair stood up. Iris perked up despite herself.
“A question for all of you,” the reporter began.
“Go ahead, Malva,” Diantha said with a nod, familiar with the Kalos reporter.
Malva smiled faintly. “Excluding yourself, who in the Master 8 will you be watching out for the most?”
The room stilled. The longer the champions took time to carefully think of an answer, the reporters whispers continued. Confused on why it took so long to give the obvious answer in Leon.
Iris couldn’t deny it. Leon was the undisputed strongest, his record unmatched. Cynthia too had every chance at taking the crown. But when Iris thought about who would fight with every ounce of willpower, who would risk everything for victory because of their bond with their Pokémon—the answer burned in her chest.
Her gaze drifted to the empty chair at the end of their row, just as Lance leaned forward to speak.
“Well, everyone here has a chance to win it all,” the Dragon Master began, his voice heavy with authority. “But the trainer I’ll be watching most closely is—”
“Ash Ketchum,” Iris interrupted, the name leaving her lips with a smile she hadn’t realized had formed.
The silence that followed was deafening. Every eye in the room widened in shock. Nobody had expected that.
Lance slumped back, frowning. “You stole my answer.” Iris raised a sheepish hand in apology, unsurprised he felt the same.
Then the others chimed in.
“How amusing. I was going to say the same,” Diantha said smoothly, an amused smile tugging at her lips.
“Same here,” Alain added with a confident grin, arms crossed.
The press went wild. The lowest-ranked member of the Master 8, praised this highly? Cynthia chuckled softly, clearly entertained.
“I’m glad we’re in agreement,” she said, her words only fueling the frenzy.
Reporters erupted, shouting over one another for answers. Iris rolled her eyes—this was why she hated crowds. One spark of chaos and suddenly everyone acted like children, noisy and restless, feeding off each other’s energy until it became unbearable.
Malva, still smiling, watched with quiet satisfaction. Iris wondered if she’d asked the question knowing it would spark this chaos.
At last, the room calmed enough for Malva to press forward. “Ash Ketchum. Champion of the Alola League, research assistant in Vermilion City. Many doubt the legitimacy of his title, since the Alola League is so new. His position as research assistant also has others questioning whether he truly has the strength to stand among you. And yet most of you name him as the one to watch. Why?”
Everyone at the conference, reporter or not, leaned forward in their seats, hungry for the answer. The tension was thick, anticipation buzzing in the air, every camera trained on them.
Steven spoke first, his tone steady. “A Champion is a Champion. Region doesn’t matter. To earn that title means you’ve proven your strength and earned your people’s respect. Ash has character, power, and status. That’s why he belongs here. I’ll be keeping my eyes on him too.”
Leon leaned forward, hands folded. “I haven’t known him as long as the others, but I saw him defeat my rival with my own eyes. Any doubt about his strength is meaningless. If I want to keep my title as the strongest, it’s only smart to keep my eyes on him.” His words hung in the air with weight. He glanced down the line at the others, and one by one, they nodded in unison, silently confirming the same belief about the Alolan Champion.
But from the crowd, a sharp voice cut in: “His league record says otherwise.”
The words pierced Iris like knives. Her fists clenched as she snatched the microphone.
“Clearly you’re not very good at your job,” she shot back, her voice shaking with fury. The room froze. That was the last straw—she wouldn’t allow such disrespect toward one of her closest friends. The reporter who had spoken against him fell silent, the entire room realizing with a jolt that the Unova Champion had lost her temper.
“If you can’t see how incredible he is, you’ll regret it when it’s thrown back in your face.”
Her words rang with conviction, though deep down she knew the hypocrisy of them. She had belittled Ash herself, had taken far too long to recognize his true talent. The guilt of it had consumed her for years, returning in waves even now. Yet it only spoke louder of his character that he had forgiven her without hesitation. He had given her so much, and though her own offerings felt small in comparison, she would repay him piece by piece.
“With my title on the line, I’ll say this: the one person you should never underestimate, no matter the circumstances, is Ash Ketchum.” She lowered the microphone and eased herself back into her seat, pulse still racing from her outburst.
Her fellow champions—Cynthia and Lance in particular—gave her looks of gratitude, as if ready to leap to his defense themselves had she not beaten them to it.
…
Okay. Maybe she had overdone it. A bead of sweat trickled down her neck as the awkward weight of dozens of stunned stares settled on her. Great. One job, and she blew it. Still… at least she hadn’t been late to the conference, unlike the very person she had just defended.
Then—Fooshhh!
A yellow blur zipped onto the stage, circling the room before springing into the empty chair beside Iris. The chair spun from the recoil, squeaking until it stilled. Just tall enough for his sharp ears to poke above the table, Pikachu hopped up proudly.
“Pika pi!” He cried, waving energetically.
Well speak of the devil, gasps rippled through the room. There was no mistaking who had just arrived.
And sure enough, Ash Ketchum stepped in from the side of the stage, his entrance far less dramatic than his partner’s. He slid into his assigned #8 seat, wearing a sheepish grin.
“Sorry I’m late, everyone!” Ash said, scratching the back of his head in his signature fashion. “I ran into a flock of Pidgeot I knew and… well, I lost track of time.”
The press blinked, stunned at the absurd excuse, while the other champions only sweatdropped, chuckled, or nodded, perfectly used to his antics.
“Idiot,” Iris muttered under her breath. Ash caught her eye and shot her a half-hearted glare.
Malva cleared her throat, steering things back on track. “Glad you could make it, Mr. Ketchum.”
Ash smiled warmly, unbothered by the grilling to come.
“I’ve just been told by your fellow competitors in the Master 8 that you’re the trainer they’re most wary of,” Malva continued. His eyebrows rose slightly, but otherwise he remained composed. “Do you have anything to say about that?”
Ash hummed softly, clearly weighing his response. Malva, like nearly every other reporter, leaned forward, her eyes fixed on him, thirsting for an answer. The entire room seemed to hold its breath.
“It’s only natural for champions like them to watch out for their competitors—especially newcomers like me,” he began, his voice steady. Each word pulled the audience further in. “Personally, I think every one of them has a real chance to win it all. They’ve already proven themselves to be the strongest of their regions. I’ve looked up to many of them, and I still do.”
The humility was classic Ash. Yet it wasn’t the answer anyone had expected from someone his peers had called the most dangerous challenger. To those unfamiliar with him, it was hard to reconcile the modest boy in front of them with the threat the champions saw.
Then his tone shifted.
“Despite that…” The warmth drained from his voice, replaced by something sharper, heavier. The sudden change made more than a few people flinch in their seats.
“I’m gonna give it my best.” The words were simple, but the smirk curling across his face gave them weight far beyond their length. Within those few syllables lay layers of meaning no one could easily untangle while also clearly carrying danger in their simplicity. That was Ash—impossible to fully explain, a presence that transformed in an instant.
The shift left the crowd unsettled, uncomprehending how he had done it. But Iris knew. She knew what he had endured, what battles he had fought, what pain he had borne. Only someone who had walked through that kind of fire could speak with such gravity.
“I hope everyone else up here will as well, because I want to beat everyone at their strongest.” There it was—the bold declaration.
It was an audacious challenge, hurled straight at the world’s best. These were trainers who could sweep entire teams with a single Pokémon. Only someone with absolute, unshakable confidence could say such a thing—and of course, it was exactly the kind of thing Ash would say.
Almost on cue, the three battle mechanics he carried ignited. His Key Stone, Z-Crystal, and Dynamax Band flared brilliantly beneath the lights, dazzling the crowd. The message was clear: the Alolan Champion wielded every weapon at his disposal. The ability to master all three was nearly unheard of, a rarity that set him apart even among champions.
Murmurs spread like wildfire. His words were no longer dismissed as bravado. Slowly but surely, belief began to take root in those who had doubted him. Iris and the other champions’ faith in Ash was no longer just sentiment—it was becoming fact in the minds of everyone watching.
The look in his eyes was almost hungry—wild yet focused, truly unwavering. His goal was etched into his very being, unshakable and absolute. He would not flinch.
Memories surged unbidden through Iris’s mind, scenes of her journey with Ash flashing vividly before her:
Ash standing fearless before Kyurem and Genesect, challenging the legends head-on.
Ash astride Zekrom, charging into battle against Reshiram with fire in his heart.
Ash soaring into the skies—into space itself—to save Victini from certain doom.
Ash enduring unimaginable pain as Team Plasma forced Pikachu, his closest partner, to turn against him. Even then, he had stood tall, protecting everyone with a smile.
Always that smile. Brave, unyielding, untouchable.
This was the Ash they’ll face in the Master 8 tournament.
It should have terrified her. This was the Ash who wouldn’t hold back, who would unleash every weapon at his command. It without a doubt meant he would be playing his biggest cards, like that terrifying Charizard of his, when the time came. Facing him meant facing everything in his disposal.
And yet, a grin spread across her face, her body trembling—not with fear, but with exhilaration. This was the Ash she had longed to see at the Unova League years ago, the Ash she had only seen glimpses of in their travels. Now, at last, he stood before her in full.
“Bring it on.” Leon’s voice rumbled from her left, laced with challenge and anticipation. Iris turned to see the other champions wearing the same expression as hers—grins of pure excitement. They felt it too: the hunger to battle an Ash Ketchum who would stop at nothing, who would unleash everything he had to win.
Ash swung his cap backward with practiced ease. It sent a shiver down Iris’s spine.
“I’m coming for that title,” he declared, voice steady but carrying the weight of destiny. “This has been my dream ever since I saw my first Indigo League final. I will become a Pokémon Master—” his smile widened, that classic Alolan grin brimming with determination—“no matter who gets in my way.”
Though spoken softly, the words thundered across the stage, their gravity undeniable.
Oh, it was so on.
A barrage of camera flashes lit up the stage, capturing every smirk, every glare, every ounce of intensity. The press conference closed not with words, but with the unspoken truth that the Master 8 tournament had officially begun.
“Alain’s Charizard is down! Ash’s Greninja stands victorious! The revenge story is complete!”
…
“Unbelievable! Cynthia’s undefeated Garchomp falls to Ash’s Charizard. He’s on to the final!”
…
“He’s done it! Pikachu defeats Leon’s Charizard in a clash that shakes legends! Ash Ketchum is your new World Champion!”
…
The image of Ash, trophy in hand, with Charizard, Greninja, Pikachu, Sceptile, Infernape, and Lucario at his side, would be carved into history forever.