Allen had never been a fan of the overly uptight type. Too rigid, too rule-bound. But Bea… she was different.
Sure, she had that same intensity in her stare, that same single-minded dedication, but there was something else too. Something that broke through the mold. Maybe it was her unique appearance—silver hair paired with rich brown skin—or maybe it was just her unshakable resolve. Either way, she didn't fit the typical serious-girl stereotype.
Still, Allen didn't dwell on it. He and Kubfu walked past her and into the Stow-on-Side Fighting Dojo like it was just another Tuesday.
Bea, flustered, hurriedly combed her tangled silver hair with her fingers, trying to regain some semblance of calm. A faint blush crept across her face—something she wasn't even aware of. She turned and followed them inside.
Training day had begun. But not before breakfast.
It wasn't wise to eat too heavily before intense physical training. Yet Allen's breakfast towered two meters high in plates. Four or five large plates sat in front of Bea, modest in comparison, but enough to make an average person queasy.
Feeding a Saiyan took a serious budget.
In the Dragon Ball Z anime world, Goku's wife Chi-Chi, survived in the mountains and somehow kept up with the food bill. Bulma, on the other hand, was the richest woman there. It made sense as only a tech billionaire could afford to feed two full-blooded Saiyans.
Bea, despite being a Gym Leader, didn't exactly have Bulma-level funding. But when she had submitted a request to double her Gym's budget the previous day, League Chairman Rose had approved it without hesitation.
She didn't know why. But we do.
Leon had already filled Rose in on Allen. And Rose, always looking for an opportunity to elevate the Galar region, wasn't about to let this one slip.
After all, Galar had only one true Champion. No Elite Four. The Gym Leaders, while powerful, lacked the consistency to form a proper hierarchy. Raihan, the Dragon-type Gym Leader of Hammerlocke, was strong—perhaps even Champion-level—but he was the exception.
So when Rose heard Allen might be capable of training someone like Bea to Elite-level?
He practically threw money at her.
"Feed him whatever he wants," Rose had said. "If he eats like ten Snorlax, let him. Just make sure he trains her."
…
After breakfast, Allen, Kubfu, and Bea stepped into the dojo's training arena. The space was massive, the size of a small soccer field, with reinforced walls and padded terrain. Galar might be weak in elite trainers, but it certainly wasn't lacking in wealth.
"Master, I'm ready!" Bea declared, bouncing slightly on her feet as she warmed up.
Behind her, her Pokémon lined up: Machamp, Pangoro, Grapploct, Gurdurr, and Hawlucha. Each one brimming with strength and energy.
Allen reached into his bag and tossed each of them a long black cloth.
"Tie these around your eyes."
Bea caught hers mid-air, blinked, and then wrapped it securely. Her Pokémon followed suit, even Machamp awkwardly fumbling with the cloth in his four massive hands.
"Ahhh\~"
Kubfu tugged at Allen's pant leg, his expression pleading. "Where's mine?"
Allen knelt, ruffling the bear's head. "You're not ready for Haki training. You'll start with the basics."
"Ahhh…" Kubfu drooped, clearly disappointed.
Allen smiled, then stood. "Alright. Begin."
Bea and her Pokémon, all blindfolded, assumed battle stances.
"You rely too much on sight," Allen said. "When you face experienced opponents, they'll read your patterns in an instant. That's where Observation Haki comes in. You need to learn to sense intent, movement, breath."
He paced slowly across the arena, eyes narrowed as he watched the blindfolded trainees.
"Start sparring in pairs. No eyes. Use your instincts. Feel the pressure. Predict the attack."
The Pokémon split into pairs: Machamp vs. Pangoro, Grapploct vs. Gurdurr, and Hawlucha vs. a backup Hitmontop. They hesitated at first, some stumbling and bumping into each other.
Kubfu, watching from the sidelines, giggled.
Bea, blindfolded, turned her head slightly. "Master, who am I sparring with?"
She took two steps forward.
Trip.
Hawlucha, also blindfolded and trying to find a partner, collided with her leg. Bea stumbled, arms flailing. Just before she hit the ground, a firm hand caught her wrist.
She landed against a chest. Strong. Warm. Familiar.
Even blindfolded, she didn't need to ask.
Allen's voice came softly. "Just this once. I won't catch you again."
Bea whispered, "Okay…"
Allen released her wrist and stepped back.
"You're not ready to spar with me. But I have another method."
Less than two seconds later, Bea felt a sharp *poke* on her forehead.
"Ow!"
She winced, raising a hand to her head.
*Crack!*
A second jab struck her forearm.
"Master! Why are you hitting me?" she cried, a little hurt.
Allen's tone was calm. "Don't act like a child. Use your senses. Where did the hit come from?"
He held a long wooden rod in his hand—where he found it, no one knew. But it had that unmistakable aura of a teacher's pointer stick.
He swung it low, tapping her calf. Lightly.
Bea gasped, then stood straighter, fists clenching. "Go harder, Master! I'm not afraid of pain! I want to get stronger!"
Allen raised an eyebrow. A slow grin formed on his lips.
"Didn't expect that. Alright then. No holding back."
He stepped into her space.
"Sense my presence. Predict the attack. Then strike."
"Yes!"
Bea snapped into her stance. Blindfolded. Determined.
And the real training began.
***
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