A crack of static split the silence.

Your Raichu stood still, tail humming faintly, its tip drawing lazy arcs in the air like the slow stroke of a painter’s brush dipped in lightning. Sparks rolled off its fur in gentle snaps, harmless for now—but far from dormant. The atmosphere hung thick with ozone and anticipation, the scent of scorched earth and sunlit metal clinging to the battlefield. Wind stirred dust across the terrain, sweeping around crags and stone, but Raichu didn’t flinch. It didn’t blink.

Eyes locked forward, ears perked in perfect calibration, Raichu’s body was loose—casual in stance, but unmistakably alert. Its orange pelt glowed in the low light, casting brief flashes as arcs of electricity danced across its cheeks in pulses, synchronized to its heartbeat. One flick of its tail—graceful, precise—and the air pressure shifted subtly, almost imperceptibly, but enough to betray the tension gathering beneath its fur.

Across from it loomed the opponent: a Dragonite. Towering, winged, muscles coiled like spring steel beneath that deceptively gentle countenance. Every breath it took caused a visible stir in the grass at its feet. Each motion carried the gravity of a natural disaster held just at bay. A leviathan in waiting. But your Raichu didn’t waver.

Where others might see a mismatch—a grounded mammal against a myth made flesh—Raichu saw only opportunity. Not fear. Not hesitation. Just the clean, electric clarity of battle imminent.

The sky above churned, a curtain of clouds bruising slowly with the threat of a storm, whether by nature’s will or the impending clash of raw elemental power. Somewhere in the far distance, thunder rolled like the beat of ancient war drums.

Raichu’s cheeks lit up again—brighter now. Controlled. Not an outburst, but a statement. It leaned slightly forward, weight distributed evenly across nimble paws, shoulders rolling in anticipation. Those fierce amber eyes remained locked on Dragonite, not in challenge, but with the focus of a creature that had faced giants before and never learned to step aside. Not once. Not ever.

Its tail swayed again, then rose—slowly, deliberately. No fanfare. No theatrics. Just the motion of a blade being unsheathed before the first cut.

The wind intensified as the world seemed to hold its breath.

And Raichu smiled.

It wasn’t a cocky grin. It wasn’t arrogance. It was something far more dangerous.

It was readiness.

Not for show. Not for pride.

Just for what came next.

The pause stretched longer. Tighter. The silence before the storm frayed at the edges, frizzing like static in the bloodstream. All it would take was a breath. A blink. A twitch.

And the storm would begin.

⸻

Let the battle begin.