The waterfall entrance to the Cerulean Gym thundered as Misty stepped beneath its cool cascade. For a second, she stood there—letting the rush of water wash over her, familiar and grounding.
Then she entered.
The Gym was just as she remembered: sunlight pouring through the glass ceiling, casting shimmering ripples across the water arena, banners fluttering with the crest of the Waterflower family. And above the pool, on the high platform—
—"Well, well. Look who wandered home."
—"Back from a little love-fueled journey through danger~"
—"Probably left Skylar in a cave somewhere with heart-eyes."
Misty sighed. "Hello, Daisy. Lily. Violet."
Her three sisters stood in synchronized grace, arms folded, each in matching swimwear of varying pastel hues—looking far too pleased with themselves.
Daisy twirled a lock of hair. "So, is he cute or just another rugged rogue with too much ego?"
Lily leaned forward. "Did he hold your hand before the explosion or after?"
Violet winked. "Does he sparkle like a Gyarados scale in the moonlight?"
Misty groaned. "He nearly died. Not that any of you read the League report, clearly."
Daisy gasped playfully. "So it's serious!"
Before the chorus of teasing could continue, a voice echoed across the gym floor.
—"That's enough, girls."
They all straightened immediately.
Misty turned.
Striding down the stairs from the upper deck came Bryce Waterflower, their father—a towering presence even in simple training gear. His red hair, streaked with silver, was tied back in a warrior's knot. A heavy coat rested on his broad shoulders, open over his sleeveless vest, revealing muscle and age-earned scars alike.
His calm gaze fixed on Misty.
—"Come," he said. "We need to talk."
The sisters gave dramatic waves as Misty followed him into the heart of the gym.
The private training chamber beneath the arena was cooler, quieter. Water tanks lined the walls, each housing rare aquatic Pokémon. In the center stood a pedestal with a single Poké Ball—navy blue with a silver wave etched into its surface.
Bryce gestured to it.
—"You remember this one."
Misty blinked.
She stepped forward and gently opened the capsule.
Light poured out—forming the elegant, ribboned body of Milotic.
The moment Misty's eyes met hers, the bond reconnected like a heartbeat.
Milotic coiled toward her and hummed, nuzzling her side affectionately.
Misty knelt, wrapping her arms around her. "You kept her."
Bryce's voice was quiet. "She wouldn't battle for anyone else. She's been waiting."
Misty stood, placing her hand on Milotic's head.
Bryce stepped forward.
—"You faced something no League combat class prepares for. Aura-corrupted Pokémon. Biological infection. And you protected your team—not just with power, but with instinct."
He paused.
—"You've become what I hoped you would."
She blinked, uncertain if she'd heard right.
He looked her in the eye.
—"A protector. Not just a Gym Leader. Something more."
And then he turned and left, leaving her alone with Milotic, still glowing in the dim light.
That evening, Misty wandered into the garden pool behind the estate. It was her quiet space—tucked behind overgrown walls of ivy, where the water was always still and the stars always clear.
She wasn't alone.
Sitting on the stone bench nearby was her mother, Marina Waterflower—regal in a simple shawl, eyes full of quiet strength.
She handed Misty a cup of tea.
—"I knew you'd come here," she said softly.
Misty sat beside her. "Some things don't change."
Marina smiled. "But you have."
They watched Milotic glide across the water in silence.
Then Misty spoke.
—"Skylar almost died."
Her mother didn't flinch.
—"He shielded me. He burned everything in him just to protect me. And all I could think was—why couldn't I stop it first?"
Marina turned to her.
—"Because protection doesn't mean standing in front. Sometimes it means being strong enough to pull someone back."
Misty looked down at her reflection in the pool.
—"I want to be more than someone he protects. I want to fight beside him. Not just because of what's coming… but because he deserves it."
Marina touched her hand.
—"Then stop hesitating."
Misty looked at her mother—really looked at her. And for the first time, saw not just elegance, but battle-earned clarity in her face.
—"I see your strength, Misty," Marina whispered. "I see it when you raise your voice. When you refuse to back down. When you carry your team with grit instead of pride."
She leaned in, voice gentle.
—"You are already walking beside him. And when the time comes… you'll stand in front of him too."
Misty closed her eyes.
Tears touched her lashes—but didn't fall.
And above them, stars slowly blinked into view.