Here it was: the problem, front and center.

He had to bite down the cringe that threatened to flash across his face the moment Navy mentioned his ‘accolades’, short as they were.

“I’m too soft.”

There, he said it.

Only one other person knew about this humongous flaw and it was the other half of his universe (hello there Guillermo Marceliño) and if word got out to Team Rocket of all people that one of the region’s longest-serving Gym Leaders was actually a—

“You know how the Elite Four push battling to the extreme?” he tried to tackle the problem in a different manner. Hopefully the other would understand what he was trying to convey.

“I’m not that kind of a trainer. I acknowledge and understand that the Pokémon I have with me are my partners. Hell, they’re my lifelong companions, but to push them beyond what they’re capable of, to the point of cruelty?”

And then he let the cringe he’d been holding back actually flash across his features for a few moments before deciding—he could start chipping away at the walls he’d put up so long ago.

Removing the fingerless glove he wore on his right hand for a moment, he showed the other man the backside of said hand, where a paler line of flesh hinted at a previous injury. And if that wasn’t enough? He’d pull down the scarf he wore around his neck, along with the turtleneck he was wearing to hide it—to reveal a particularly nasty set of scars that marked his neck.

“I’m too soft for my own good. Someone almost killed me a few years ago, back in Fortree. I’m more than certain that person is in Team Rocket. And I can’t stand being defenseless any longer.”

Was it time to release the brutality? Maybe…