Chapter 2: 5 years

~5 years later~ *General POV*

A young boy wearing a gi stood in a dojo, the faint light of the sunrise slowly bleeding into the dojo's interior through its windows. His wine-red hair was a bit messy, yet it was perfectly accompanied by his cute babyface. The dojo itself was filled with many tools for honing the body: weights, wooden dummies, wooden weapons for practice, agility-training courses, and many, many more.

The floor-mat of the dojo was clean and tidy, unusual for places used for similar purposes. At the center of the floor was an image of a pokeball encompassed by a larger outline of an orange fist.

Standing in the center of the pokeball's design, the boy was covered in a thin layer of sweat as he performed many complex motions that an untrained person would interpret as a child's poor imitation at martial arts. Should a more experienced person gaze upon the motions, they would feel as if they were looking directly at a calm ocean's waves. Interestingly enough, the boy did not practice alone.

Directly in front of the boy stood a short figure following the motions of the boy, albeit a bit more shakily. The light trickling into the room illuminated its short figure, revealing not a human, but something else.

The young boy was naturally Michael, now aged 5. His training partner was a humanoid creature with a face similar to that of a weasel. Its body proportions mimicked the appearance of a young martial artist wearing loose robes, its 'sleeves' dangling before its hands. This was the pokemon known as Mienfoo.

Michael finished his movements by putting his hands together flatly and releasing a concentrated breath, which the Mienfoo mimicked as well.

"Excellent work, Mienfoo! Although I notice you're still struggling with controlling the shakiness of your pained muscles, you have finally worked through the complete motions of the First-form Flowing Water Arts." Michael commented towards the Mienfoo with a smile that resembled a kind elder teaching his disciples. His high-pitched voice was the only indicator that the truth was otherwise.

"Mien!" Almost as if it were going along with the facade, Mienfoo placed a fist into its other flat hand and bowed towards Michael.

"Haha, alright! Take a 10-minute break for now, young one. It's about time my father gets here." Michael patted the shoulder of the Mienfoo before returning to the center of the dojo mat and sitting on it with his legs crossed over one another.

Closing his eyes, Michael's consciousness seemed to direct itself to his body rather than his surroundings.

Opening his eyes, Michael could see what could only be described as a well-watered sapling, growing powerfully despite its small size. What Michael focused on, however, were the fruits that seemed to grow on the branches of the sapling itself.

Currently, there are three fruits, all of different colors and sizes. The largest fruit is about the size of Michael's fist, colored orange. Due to being the largest of the three, this fruit in particular seemed to have a more radiant sheen compared to its neighbors. When Michael focused on it, he felt the familiar feeling of internal energy flowing all throughout his body, something to be noted for sure.

The second largest fruit is about the size of an oak tree's acorn, colored dark brown. This fruit does not emit a glow like its larger brother, yet a faint energy of sturdiness can be felt from it if Michael focuses hard enough.

The final and most pitiful of the three fruits is about the size of an ant. Regardless of its size, Michael seems to show a profound interest in its qualities. Even as he focuses his entire consciousness towards the tiny fruit, he is unable to feel any unique qualities that the other two fruits seem to share.

*Michael POV*

'No matter how many times I examine it, this truly amazes me every time. To think that this strange world would hold so many mysteries within the human body, and not to mention the bodies of these Pokemon.

If I were to use my previous life's knowledge, then I would say that this orange fruit's energy resembles internal energy the most out of the three. Strangely enough, however, it does not contain all of the properties that internal energy has. While it contains the natural properties of enhancing one's physical strength, it lacks many other properties such as heightened senses and increased natural recovery.'

I looked over to the dark brown fruit and focused my concentration on it.

'Interestingly enough, this other fruit seems to encompass the internal energy property of strengthening one's constitution. If I were to base my theory of how internal energy works in this world, then it would seem that these 'fruits' are the properties of internal energy, separated into their own categories.'

While this may seem to be a nuisance in terms of reaching any sort of impactful martial realm at first, I believe that it's quite the opposite, in fact. The internal energy of my previous life functioned by enhancing the body in countless different ways altogether. However, the improvement of these individual traits all at once would be slight.

In this world, it would seem that humans are capable of focusing their cultivation onto more specialized paths. For example: If I were to focus my efforts on increasing the amount of energy that the orange fruit would supply me, then the growth rate of my body would increase by leaps and bounds.

'Unfortunately, focusing on one energy could also be detrimental if my understanding is correct as well. If I really focused on improving only my muscle composition and strength through the orange fruit, then I fear that every other aspect of my body would fail to properly supplement it. There really is no such thing as an easy way to attain power…'

I suddenly heard the doors to the dojo opening, bringing my full senses back to my surroundings.

"Bright and early as usual, huh Michael? That's my boy for you! Come on! It seems like you've already warmed up, so why don't you help your old man get warmed up for the day too." My father's hearty and deep voice caused the walls of the dojo to vibrate as he spoke.

Beside my father stood one of his Pokemon, Machamp. Machamp's energy was no less than my father's as it flexed its arms in a show of might and excitement.

"Machamp!"

Another interesting aspect of this world that I have discovered is the art of Pokemon battling. It reminded me somewhat of the demon beast-tamers of my past, albeit with less bloodshed. In this world it seemed that these Pokemon battles were viewed more akin to a sport than a fight for life and death. At least, that is how it seems from my experience so far.

It just so happens that my father, also known as Bruno of the Elite Four of Kanto and Johto, is one such pokemon trainer, and a highly respected one at that. Growing up under his tutelage has been exceedingly fruitful in helping me learn more about this world and how it works. It has also assisted me greatly in assimilating with this world as well.

Not only have I simply learned about the world in general, but I have extensively learned more about pokemon themselves. My father thankfully has taken it upon himself to teach me about pokemon typings, the pokemon league, pokemon training, and much more.

It was quite heartwarming seeing him get excited at my passion for learning about pokemon battling and martial arts at such a young age.

"Yes, father. Good Morning, Machamp!" I stood up from my meditative position and greeted the two as my father placed his dojo bag down on the floor mat.

"Now that's the spirit! Mienfoo, go ahead and get Machamp warmed up in the meantime. And make sure you pay attention to his teachings!" Keeping his relaxed stance, my father delegated Mienfoo with the task of sparring with Machamp, a truly terrifying task for the small pokemon.

"Mien! Mienfoo!" Despite the scary task it was assigned, Mienfoo readily stood in front of Machamp before bowing deeply.

My father, now ignoring the two pokemon in the dojo with us, stood a dozen feet apart from me with his hands resting on his hips. His fatherly smile now carried the countenance of a martial artist.

Not wanting to delay any further, I prepared myself for our spar and entered a firm stance.

Looking at the situation from an outsider's perspective, they would probably berate my father for sparring with me at all considering his towering height of 6'5" and me standing at barely 4'6", aside from the fact that I only recently turned 5. Nonetheless, we were both used to this sort of situation at this point.

Without the need for any more words I dashed towards my father, covering the distance in mere moments. I delivered a feint, punching towards his gut before using the rotation of my body to deliver a simple spinning kick towards his face.

Not to much surprise, he expertly blocked the kick with his hand, then grabbing the leg that I had used to launch my attack. Without any hesitation he pulled me up with ease, causing me to be in a dangling position.

In an effort to free myself from this position, I pushed off the belt on my father's gi and attempted to kick at his throat. Surprised at my quick reaction, father released his grip on my ankle, causing my kick to lose the necessary reach as I fell to the floor mat.

I recovered quickly, planting my hands on the mat before pushing myself back into a standing position. My father's gaze carried a proud look as he crossed his arms while nodding in satisfaction.

Seeing as my attempts at beating my father using simple martial steps were failing, I decided to take things to the next step.

I calmed my breathing before taking the stance of the First Form Flowing-Water Arts: Crashing Waves! Watching me take up a different stance, my father's eyes sharpened while his face became more serious, only carrying a slight grin of anticipation.

I once again approached my father directly to attack, however, this time my approach contained the ferocity of nature's unmatched power. Upon first entering his striking range, I delivered a flurry of strikes containing a mix of feints and regular attacks.

My father quickly reacted, noticing the complexity of my attack formation. Instead of attempting to track and dodge each strike, he opted to plant his feet into the mats and lower his stance in order to block his vital areas while allowing the rest of his body to take on the strikes.

'Your reaction is perfect except for one thing father…'

Watching as he took a guarded stance, I moved to use the signature move of the Flowing-Water Arts first form: Crashing Wave Palm Strike! I receded, 'giving up' on my barrage of attacks, or at least that's how it appeared.

The moment my father slightly lowered his guard, I quickly dashed in and delivered a palm strike aimed at his chest. The fight was all but won.

Just as my strike landed, my palm which was supposed to deliver a hefty internal injury was met with an unimaginable toughness. Expecting this result, I exasperatedly looked up at my father.

He smiled down at me with his hands at his hips, clearly used to this sort of result as well.

"You're really something else, Michael! If it weren't for this tough body that I've trained for decades, I'm sure I would have been a little hurt by that!" My father proudly stated.

And yes, he said 'a little hurt', hinting at the fact that my father was born with an absurdly high natural toughness, one which I seemed to have inherited in some form. It's thanks to my naturally tough body that I am even capable of training with Mienfoo at such a young age. Without it, I'd be panting on the floor while feeling pain all over my body for even attempting to use the Flowing Water Arts.

"*Sigh* Are you warmed up a bit now, father?" I asked with complicated emotions. It isn't every day that a Martial Master loses in a spar, well at least that would be the case if my father and I didn't spar every other day…

"More than warmed up, Michael! I'm now pumped and ready to train! Machamp you can end your spar as well." My father looked over at the spar between Mienfoo and Machamp which looked eerily similar to the spar we just had.

"Champ. Champ. Machamp." Machamp stood with all four arms crossed as it gave pointers to the young pokemon without a sign of pain on its face. Mienfoo's own palm strike seemed to produce similar results to my own.

Seeing the spar of the two pokemon come to an end, my father then took out four pokeballs from his dojo bag, releasing their inhabitants all at once.

"Hitmonchamp!" "Hitmonlee!" "Hitmontop!" "Onix!" (Thankfully the dojo ceiling is quite high)

The four pokemon cried out in unison, ready for another day of hardcore training.