I Will Touch the Skies - A Pokemon Fanfiction (OC)

[Gummy_Dragon]

Natural Harmonia Gropius

Click to shrink...

Ghetsis already needs to be executed for crimes against Pokemon and humanity, but this name was the last straw for me.

N's full name always seemed to be a mean thing to give a kid.

 

[Blinktwice13]

Well. One week later and I binged over 2mil words.

The Good: Horror scenes are all on point, Eldritch and otherwise. The Galactic Commanders were all terrifying and messed up in their own way. I love the cast interactions and how Grace is flawed yet sympathetic up to a point. The spots of light are critical and you manage to keep those going well. Grammar is solid, pacing solid, story obviously plotted beforehand. In general, I like the political and worldbuilding aspects.

The Blink Doesn't Like This: I can't say I'm a fan of the Maylene subplot. Reading down it lost Grace a lot of sympathy from me - not quite to 'I don't care about this character' but close. Maylene reads as way more sheltered than Grace at that point and there was a lot of advantage taken - admittedly on both sides. What is particularly frustrating is when Grace puts a 'Hero' title on her, so I don't see this relationship being any better than Cecilia - in fact I fully expect it to sour faster because of the rapid codependency flags I see.

The natural gradual breakdown between Cecilia and Grace I can get behind. Trauma bonding does not a good relationship make. The cheating feels more like an excuse to explode the relationship board in time for Unova to happen, especially before we get Byron's rematch or the conference. Grace (rightfully) lost a lot of connections in that explosion, and some of my favorite interactions - Grace and Chase, Grace and Louis - are probably never going to happen again. If they do I fully expect varying levels of antagonism.

The whole thing smells like setting Grace as a foil to N and Hilbert which could be interesting but honestly I'm not entirely sure how well that will go. She's turning into an elemental embodiment of trauma and mental unwellness, and for all she's functional again that doesn't mean she's healed at all. I really think she's done the equivalent of a bunny hop over rock bottom and is going to tumble again shortly. Of course as I am not the author, I could be/am probably wrong and am still curious where this is going.

Note: I did not say 'the bad' for the above section because it was all well written, and clearly thought out. More of a 'I'm not sure of the rationale of the narrative choice and the entire situation feels off'.

 

[Soussouni]

Spoiler: Team

Togekiss/Princess (Hustle) - Pound, Sweet Kiss, Growl, Headbutt, Fairy Wind, Ancient Power, Extrasensory, Thunder Wave, Air Cutter, Wish, Psychic, Shadow Ball, Dazzling Gleam, Moonblast, Charge Beam, Air Slash, Mystical Fire, Tri-Attack, Nasty Plot, Defog

Jellicent/Buddy (Water Absorb) - Bubblebeam, Night Shade, Absorb, Water Sport, Water Pulse, Hex, Poison Sting, Mist, Acid Armor, Shadow Ball, Recover, Brine, Whirlpool, Hydro Pump, Water Spout, Acid, Will-O-Wisp, Ice Beam, Taunt, Scald, Boil, Freeze, Protect, Ice Blade, Rain Dance, Extrasensory

Electivire/Honey (Motor Drive) - Thundershock, Swift, Electric Swift, Thunder Punch, Charge, Leer, Ice Punch, Thunderbolt, Discharge, Fire Punch, Protect, Cross Chop, Thunder, Low-Kick, Screech, Radiant Leap, Static Shield, Bulldoze, Hammer Arm, Rain Dance, Lightning Bolt

Tangrowth/Angel (Chlorophyll) - Vine Whip, Absorb, Mega Drain, Stun Spore, Bind, Poison Powder, Leech Seed, Ancient Power, Power Whip, Knock Off, Sunny Day, Giga Drain, Sleep Powder, Solar Beam, Solar Blade, Brick Break, Ingrain, Bulldoze

Tyranitar/Sweetheart (Sand Stream) - Leer, Tackle, Horn Attack, Rock Throw, Payback, Stomping Tantrum, Smack Down, Bite, Rock Slide, Crunch, Sandstorm, Iron Defense, Dragon Pulse, Iron Head, Earthbreaker, Aerial Ace, Stone Edge, Dark Pulse, Rock Polish, Surf, Earthquake

Turtonator/Sunshine (Shell Armor) - Smog, Ember, Smokescreen, Incinerate, Iron Defense, Flamethrower, Shell Trap, Dragon Pulse, Bulldoze, Scorching Sands, Rock Tomb, Body Slam, Flash Cannon, Solar Beam, Rapid Spin, Scale Shot, Iron Tail, Focus Blast, Sunny Day, Fire Pillar, Flame Charge, Heat Crash, Fire Blast, Shell Smash

Claydol (Levitate) - Mud Slap, Rock Tomb, Rapid Spin, Harden, Confusion, Psychic, Barrier, Imprison, Wide Guard, Light Screen, Reflect, Ancient Power, Teleport

Meltan/Mimi (???) - Not a battler

---

CHAPTER 332

"Graces, how long do I gotta be your mule for?" Jess' whines behind me were thankfully somewhat masked by the constant hum of cars around us. "Couldn't you just look at these in the library?"

"Libraries make me uncomfortable," I deadpanned ahead of her. A flicker of heat prickled at my skin—the shadow of a bomb, a phantom explosion that made me shut my eyes and shake my head to remind myself that I was safe. "You keep saying that you're strong anyway."

"I was just mindlessly boasting!" she sighed.

"You're lucky I'm not making you go all the way to Marley's spot south of the city." Unfortunately, the loop wasn't perpetually going to be maintained. I could have kept it going, but figured it was better to break it now so I didn't have to fly out in that exact same spot every time I needed to train this specific facet of my Pokemon and battling style.

"She has a spot?!" Jess exclaimed. "Friggin' trainers. I wonder if she'll be on time."

The plan, as Jess had endlessly complained about, had been to go to one of Jubilife's many libraries to grab a bunch of books—mostly short stories and fables—to study. Marley had suggested she'd come along, but she was often one to bail a lot of the time. Of course, I knew it was to train for the Conference; Jess just thought it was family drama or something. She still had no idea Marley actually had eight badges, just that she was a trainer.

"Wish your dad would have picked us up," Jess complained again.

"He has work. We're almost there, come on. Unless you finally find your courage and accept flying on Princess."

My Alolan friend audibly gulped at the idea, freezing for a microsecond before settling into her air of confidence once again. "Yeah, I'll carry the books."

We stopped at a red light, and I glanced her way. "Hey. Um, thanks for hanging along, I guess." It was challenging to look at her when we broke the dynamic; I simply wasn't used to people outside of my usual friends wanting to stick around. It was silly, but maybe I hadn't gotten over my school days and had begun associating piano class with them, thinking that at some point, Marley and Jess would eventually drop me like a scorching piece of rock.

"I'm no sore loser," she lied. "You beat me in our latest piano duel; you get one favor. Plus, you're fun to hang out with, Graces."

"Am I?"

"Yeah. You're weird! And that's fun, even if I barely get you. Sometimes you say really strange things like 'libraries make me uncomfortable,' I mean, I've never heard that."

"It's not that weird," I grumbled. Buddy vibrated in my shirt, wrapped around my shoulder and back. He made everything easier to get through, and that meant I didn't have to make people uncomfortable with Cass asking every passerby about a million things. Sensing the vibrations, Mimi sent one of their own coursing up my arm, and they began talking through me. I could get the vibes of it somewhat—it was a debate on what weird even meant to humans—but the details were lost on me. I didn't speak whatever coded language Buddy had come up with in the last few months playing guardian with the steel type because of how crushed I'd been, so it was just starting to register in my head. "I'm weird, but I'm not that weird," I finally added after that long pause.

"Sure you aren't." She innocently batted her eyes at me.

"You don't even believe that."

"You're just my super famous rich friend who's fought in the military against terrorists, who looks on edge half the time, and who looks like she never sleeps. No biggie."

We were pleasantly surprised to see Marley waiting in front of my apartment complex, fiddling with some necklace she was wearing. True to form, she wore one of her signature dark, frilly dresses, making her look like she'd stepped out of a cosplay convention. And Jess thought I was strange? Marley was on a whole other level, with her guarded secrets and odd dressing habits. We exchanged waves, and Jess, without hesitation, offloaded half of her stack of books onto her. Marley's face went pale at the sheer weight, and she mouthed a silent prayer for an elevator. Thankfully, one was just inside.

I unlocked the door and let them in. "Make yourselves at home; just don't make a mess."

The last thing I wanted was for dad to get here and realize he'd need to clean everything up, not when things were still a little tense. I… still hadn't spoken to my mother much since I'd kissed Maylene for the first time. It wasn't fair to her—I just needed time to process. Both girls looked at me like I was the source of all insanity in the world when my Jellicent crawled out of my shirt, but I paid it no mind. The clock struck eleven in the morning when we all sat at the dinner table. Marley didn't care for Buddy, but Jess kept looking at him with wide, terrified eyes despite the fact that I said she had nothing to worry about; he wasn't going to kill her.

"Why would you say it like that?" Marley laughed.

"How else would I say it? He's not going to kill her, so he's not going to kill her," I said. "He's here to help with the books. The more of us there are, the faster we read."

With the ghost's agreement and their doubts sorted out, we finally decided to start.

"So what are we looking for?" Jess asked, grabbing her copy of 'The Clever Pidgey and the Proud Murkrow.'

We were looking for two things, I answered.

It was clear that I couldn't rely on my narrow understanding of stories forever. That was where the worry of being too predictable came from—and while mastering different types of narratives might not be enough to outwit a determined adversary with time to analyze me, it would at least help obscure my intentions. For example, my journey so far could be described as a Coming of Age, a Redemption Arc, and maybe a Hero's Journey, all without the satisfying ending at the end. Through these lenses, I had navigated Mount Coronet and beyond, but there were more stories than this.

The other facet I was looking to identify was tropes embodied by characters. The Reluctant or Fallen Hero, the Mentor Figure, the Comic Relief, the Loyal Sidekick, the Damsel in Distress—not only would this help me navigate the waters of battles and make them more fun, but by identifying these Roles, stories, and tropes in my opponents, I could anticipate their choices and how they fit within the world.

Now, I knew Byron, for example, wouldn't play around with this stuff. Honestly, no one would. It was all a matter of deluding myself into seeing these patterns. Kingambit, for example, could easily fit into the role of the protagonist of Byron's team, and his fight a Hero or a Villain's last stand depending on what lens you viewed the battle through. There was a hint of truth behind it, too. There was a reason stories had helped me survive Coronet. Why domains worked the way they did.

Reading a bunch of children's short stories was a lot more fun than I expected, especially when I was parsing through them line by line. Marley was a lot more helpful than Jess was in literary analysis—that meant she had basically more skill than us both combined due to her actually paying attention in school—but at least Jess easily sorted through each book, reading fast enough to let us know if the current one was going to be a waste of time or not. While Buddy did not know the exact trope names, if they even had one, he was also great at identifying these patterns and was a godsend to have here. He'd sift through books faster than Jess was, lifting them up with Extrasensory.

"Hm. Something's bothering me," I whispered, partly to myself and to my friends and Pokemon. "Do you think anyone on my team can act?"

"Act?" Marley scoffed. "What is this? It's a battle, not some show."

"It's a story," I shrugged. "And stories are meant to be viscerally experienced, or they might as well not exist at all." It had been easy, when my life was on the line, but now that there were no stakes? "I had this thing back in the day where I wanted to fool my opponent with facial expressions," I said. This could somewhat be considered an evolution of those urges. "So I practiced a little bit, but there's a difference between a few seconds used to trick someone and an entire, coherent narrative."

Though…

I did think I could act in a few narrow roles like a focused killer or perhaps a character desperate to be loved and accepted by others, but that wasn't acting—it was who I was. Arceus forbid I had to act like a naïve princess or any kind of cheerful hero; that would be the embarrassment of a lifetime. Unfortunately, one didn't get good at something without doing it.

"I've got no time for acting classes with my Poketch obligations, but maybe you guys can be my lab Rattata." Them and Maylene, but I wasn't ready to talk about her with them yet, no matter how much I wanted to gush about her. "But anyway, who do you think could act, Bud?"

We ended up agreeing on basically everything.

With Princess, it'd depend on the role. She'd go ham if she had to play a psychotic killer, for example, but trying to shove her in a box would make her complain like it was the end of the world. We'd have to deal with that and push her boundaries later, but I did genuinely believe she'd be able to put herself in a character's mindset the easiest out of everyone.

Cass would do it with no issues and would have a crap ton of fun doing it. They wanted to experience as much of the outside world as possible, just like Mimi, and if the steel type's exaggerated bows said anything, it was that Cassianus would live to act and might even get so into it they'd forget it was fake, which was precisely the kind of energy I needed. Immersion.

Sunshine would have the most difficulties with this pivot. He'd probably consider it below him, but I could easily sell him on evil roles, and it was only a matter of time before he slowly accepted the rest of the process. Unlike Princess, I couldn't actually convince him with words, but by showing him how fun it might make a battle. He might have considered himself serious, but he was basically as much of a drama queen as I was, deep down.

As for the rest of the family? We figured they'd try and would just need practice. Angel, Honey and Sweetheart were beings who were very true to themselves, but I knew they'd be into it and try their best. And who cared if it was a little cringe on our first few attempts in public? If we had fun, that was all that'd matter!

"What about you?" Marley nudged her head toward Jellicent. Jess hissed a few hushed whispers at her, but she ignored her. "How's your acting?"

The water type's body rippled for a moment, and I translated, "He thinks he'd be terrible at it because he's too stoic." I raised a hand next to him, which he gently wrapped a little water around. "Don't worry bud, you have great strengths already. I bet you'd make a good stalker or monster in a horror-themed story." I awkwardly cleared my throat. My mind needed to stop going to antagonistic forces right away. "Or, um, mentor. Yeah!"

With an amused glint in his red eyes, he noted that mentors often died or were crippled for life in the stories he'd been reading.

"Eh, you can take it," I snorted.

To weave a cohesive narrative from a battle, I needed my six Pokémon to collaborate like never before, especially in utilizing the battlefield to our advantage. I already had a vision for how to incorporate Sunshine's move, "You Are a Star," into the story, along with what tale I even wanted to tell, but I still needed to refine a few details to ensure everything fit seamlessly together. Motivation didn't come easy, but it came easier, and time was short.

"Wait. What time is it?" I asked.

"Uh, 12:03—"

"Crap! I'll be right back!" I scrambled on my feet, ignoring Mimi's indignant squeals when I nearly accidentally knocked them over the table. God, they'd take at least twelve hours to forgive me for that one because their sense of time was skewed to a Legendary's, but I was late to call Maylene! "You girls order pizza or whatever!"

"You're rich! You're paying!" Jess clamored.

My door slammed behind me and I instantly called the Gym Leader. I wouldn't actually have missed her lunch break entirely—she was most likely working and had forgotten to keep track of time, but she would have eventually realized and called me—I just didn't want for her to always be the one to call, because it might make her feel unwanted or like she was bothering me. It had taken me a bit to get over the fear that wanting to speak to her was wrong because of my vices with Cecilia, but Candice had helped me realize that it was fine.

"Hey dummy." I could hear the smile and playfulness on her lips. "Thanks for calling me, actually. I forgot it was my lunch break already—how are things going?"

"Really good, believe it or not? I'm hanging out with Jess and Marley like I said…"

I loved telling her about my day because it felt like I could talk about it for hours and she'd still be here to listen and ask about every little thing, like—like she was genuinely interested in me.

"I'd love to see you act—and how bad you're going to be at it," she teased.

"You've never even seen me try!" I groaned, legs kicking on my bed. "What if I totally sweep you off your feet?"

"You don't need to act to do that."

Wha—I swallowed a stammer and allowed the blush to pass. "I bet you feel safe over that phone, don't you," I bit back.

"What?" She let out a disbelieving and embarrassed laugh. "Grace, I was complimenting you!"

"What can I say, you're rubbing off on me. Felt like I was letting you win something." I shrugged and put a strand of hair behind my ear. "Any new openings on when I can see you?"

"Yes, actually! There's this big fundraiser tomorrow night at the Contest Hall in Hearthome soon to celebrate Fantina's Gym opening and raise money to help rebuild the city. I originally wasn't going to come, but Cynth said a show of unity would do the region some good, so Volkner and Wake are gonna be there too. It starts at six-thirty in the evening?"

I bit my lip. "I can't make it. I have Poketch stuff that night. Interview prep."

"Oh. Well, that's alright." She paused. "It is alright, right?"

Surprisingly? "Yeah. I'm taking you go-karting later this week, then."

She chuckled. "Go-karting? Are you saying that just because we played Pokekart?"

"Maybe I just want to see you crash into a bunch of tires."

"You're on. You can hang at my Gym after—finally make me that tofu we talked about."

"Do you have the ingredients?"

"I figured we could just go grocery shopping. Usually my Gym staff handles that stuff. We have a few cooks on payroll."

It hurt not to be able to see her tomorrow, but also…

It was fine? Not a crippling kind of hurt, just a 'that sucks, I really wanted to see more of her' kind of hurt. I hadn't even gotten any urges to cry about it or to desperately ask her if I'd done something wrong, or anything. Sometimes, schedules just didn't line up.

"Anyway, picture this—Princess as a damsel who has to be saved by a Heroic Knight—"

I heard a subtle beep on the end of the line, then a constant dull hum—most likely a microwave firing up. "Your kid would rather play hero than do any of that."

I laughed. "I know, but I can't help but imagine how embarrassed she'd be; it'd be so funny! Oh, what are you eating today? I think my friends are ordering pizza."

—

A pen tapped paper and began to write.

On my Enjoyment of Rollercoasters

It is unbelievable what these people call 'rollercoasters.' What I went on should barely qualify as a thrill ride, let alone an experience worthy of the long lines and absurdly priced tickets. The structure, if one can even call it that, was a simple loop of predictable turns and gentle dips, designed more for the stomach of a child than for anyone seeking genuine excitement. Emilia and Louis screamed the entire time and made me feel out of place, and the vehicular device used to transport us was cramped and cumbersome. Alas, I must conclude that I most likely do not enjoy rollercoasters, but perhaps what was lacking was simply its scale. Sunyshore leaves a lot to be desired, especially when it keeps reminding me of my happier times with her.

The ball-point stayed on the period until ink started to spill over the page.

My sample size is too low to truly know if I like it or not, but so far, the rating is at a pitiful 4/10. It is more of a social experience than anything; being with my friends is fun.

Cecilia glanced up, closing her Raison d'Être diary as Louis and Emilia stepped out of the gift shop. The former's legs were still a little wobbly from the rollercoaster ride, and he nearly tripped on the sidewalk. Taking her to the Sunyshore Amusement Park had been their idea, one that Cecilia had in no way been opposed to. The park was run by the city of Sunyshore itself, unlike the many private enterprises that ran Unova's, and that meant that the city was creating a serious drive to funnel people to spend money there not only to recuperate the costs of repairing the boardwalk, but to turn the page on all the doom and gloom that had plagued the country for a year. Emilia carried with her two bags full of souvenirs while Louis had a tray of drinks.

"Sorry, there was a long queue inside the store." Emi smirked and slid next to her, as did Louis. "Here are our surprises for you."

"You go first, Emilia," Louis sighed, a hand on his forehead to hide himself from the sun. "I still need to recover; I feel like I'm going to barf."

Cecilia chuckled. "Louis."

He glanced at her.

"Nothing," she said. "You're just a bit of a coward."

He made a grimace that slowly twisted into a genuine, although constrained smile while Emilia laughed, pulling out a little keychain shaped like a Pichu making a silly face. "That's my gift. Honestly, I figured something small you'd be able to keep around would be nice."

Cecilia dangled it in front of her face by the chain, looking the plastic Pichu in the eye as she blinked. "Thank you, Emi. It's cute." She placed it in her fist, and then in her pocket. Cecilia couldn't find it within herself to dress up as she used to, so she was doomed to these plain ones for now. "And Louis?"

Emilia pulled out a cap with Volkner's signature woven with a thunderbolt, which… "Louis," Cecilia said. "Do you think I'd wear a cap?" The Unovan gave him her hardiest of faces, eyes wide open.

He gave her a confused look. "Cece—I'm sorry? I thought you wanted to try new things, I—"

Cecilia snorted, head lowering for a moment. "I'm sorry. Thank you, Louis. I'll try it out. In fact, I'll wear both of these right now."

"You should stop bullying him," Emilia joked.

It was friendly. She just found it easy to draw joy from the fear within him whenever he thought he might have messed up, but it was true that she shouldn't do it much, or he might take it to heart. Once she clipped the Pichu to her purse, Cece put on the cap, finding it a perfect fit around her head, and Louis handed her a drink. She took a sip through her straw—

"What in the world is this?"

"Is that another joke, or…" he trailed off.

"No. It tastes like—is there coffee in this?" Cecilia didn't hate coffee, but it was so sweet that it made her mouth feel like it had been coated in a layer of thick sugar. "No, I can't drink this."

"If it's coffee, I'll take it," Emilia said. "Louis, what else did you get?"

They swapped cups until Cece ended up with a bright smoothie. She took a cautious sip, relieved to find that this one was mostly fruit with just the right amount of tartness. "Much better," she muttered. She considered writing it down in her diary, but this was something she'd already known.

There was a reason pineapple was her favorite fruit. She couldn't do sweet without something else like acidity to reign it in. Cecilia watched Emilia nonchalantly sip on that awful drink while she idly browsed her socials, and her mind went to Grace. Not because they were anything alike, but because Cecilia couldn't help but think about how the earliest version of Grace she'd known—before everything had begun tumbling down—would have gotten so flustered about it. Yeah, Cecilia thought with an angered shiver. She would have taken a sip, or maybe a few, then she would have stared at the straw, unblinking for a few moments, and her face would have gone as red as a ripe strawberry.

Cecilia waited.

And waited.

Emilia kept browsing, and the Unovan smiled. They indeed were nothing alike, neither in appearance nor in behavior, and that was a good thing.

She despised the fact that she missed her. Craved her like a drug.

There were another series of screams in the background, and her eyes nearly rolled out of their sockets.

They spent the next thirty minutes or so chatting about the ride and what Cecilia thought of it. They always asked her as many questions about whatever activity they did to squeeze as many opinions out of her as possible. They were baffled at her thought about how unexciting that rollercoaster had been, especially the so-called 'big drop,' which might as well have been a child's slide. Cecilia did think that perhaps the subsuming of the fear of death had something to do with being unable to feel anything—perhaps she would talk about it to Slowking and Lehmhart later tonight. What did make her burst out laughing, however, was the snapshot picture Louis had gotten from the store. Her blank, emotionless look in the middle of such excited faces had something about it that was nearly magnetic. She took a picture of the Polaroid and henceforth decided to make it her phone background. It wasn't perfectly in frame, and her fingers were visible, but that added character to it. Flair, so to speak.

The background used to be Grace until Chase made her change it to one of the default ones until she settled on something else. She was glad she'd found that something—a picture of her and her friends in the midst of a fun activity was a perfect replacement.

She spoke to Louis for a bit about being somewhat experienced enough with manual labor thanks to her time down south, and that she would be capable of helping him with construction of his sanctuary. He balked at her in disbelief, assuring her that he had a team of people for it until Emilia told him to just take the hint that she wanted new things and to let her help.

"Oh, by the way, Cece. Check this out." Emilia whipped three tickets out of her own purse, holding them between her fingers. "You said you wanted to go look at a play for inspiration, right? There's one tomorrow; it's a really big deal. A lot of important people are going to be there because it's also a huge fundraiser to celebrate Fantina's Gym opening again and raise funds for the city—"

"You know Hearthome and their fundraisers," Louis grumbled, memories flashing within his eyes.

Emi patted him on the back with an affectionate smile. "Yes, yes, you won't have go. I know you're busy." That, and it brought back bad memories for him.

"Who's the third?" Cecilia asked.

Emilia pulled her tickets back into her purse. "Pauline."

Besides some unintentional bitterness, Cecilia was okay with their friend coming with them. She'd been spending a little time with Grace, as of late. It was good, actually, that she was still giving Cecilia her friendship. The Unovan truly meant what she'd said during their meeting in Canalave, even if it was taking her heart longer to catch up to what her brain was telling her was the right thing to do.

"You wouldn't believe what I had to go through to get these tickets. Luckily I have some clout in the Hearthome scene," Emilia complained. "Even Fantina's going to be there—she's actually an actress in the play." That intrigued Cecilia even more than she already was. She wasn't one to show much outward excitement, but how could she not now that she'd get front row seats to what had become her main inspiration the past few days? "You don't even have to stay for the fundraiser before and after, honestly."

"We'll see," Cecilia said. "Thank you, Emi. I'm grateful."

Her friend shrugged. "We're all here to help you." Her eyes flickered at Cecilia's cap with a hint of amusement. "Even Louis."

"Do you have to put it like that?" their blond friend sighed, scratching the scar on his cheek.

"Louis has made his support known," Cecilia rescued their friend. "And I think I'll keep it, actually," Cecilia chuckled. "Imagine me and Chase wearing this and his own hat? We'd make quite the duo."

Chase and Emilia hadn't been close, especially when he'd been against her involvement in Coronet, but seeing her help Cecilia with the others had given him a new appreciation for her.

"I just think it'd be funny to see you dressed like a football mom, honestly," Emi said. Cecilia ignored her urge to correct it to soccer.

"She'd be quite the sight in the bleachers," Louis added with a nod.

"Please. I don't want to terrify strangers." Cecilia rolled her eyes, something that you could barely see on her these days. "Just my friends, I think."

Scaring people, at least when she was close to them so they knew she meant nothing by it, was fun.

Another note to add to her diary. If things kept going like this, she'd need to buy another quite soon.

—

The lobby of the Hearthome Contest Hall exuded an air of grandeur, its high ceilings stretching upward like the vaulted halls of a palace. Cecilia had heard of its famous pink glittering carpet many times, mostly from Emilia, but all she could see was a bright grey that occasionally sparkled. The hall was packed, filled to the brim with the highest echelon of Hearthome's population. Socialites, businessmen and women, influencers, and coordinators, all dressed in their finest, mingled in tight circles with glasses of expensive champagne, exchanging pleasantries that rang shallow to Cecilia's ears. Legendaries, she could have gone for a glass right now, but unfortunately they always checked for ages.

She'd gone to many events like these in her childhood, acting as a silent follower who nodded and smiled at whatever people said to her. No opinions had been allowed to drip out of any word of hers, lest she accidentally offend someone and cause Clarence trouble. Smile, be demure, laugh at jokes even if you don't find them funny, dance with men who were too old for you—she wasn't allowed to be a person. From her days as a debutante, she'd been a tool for her father to wield, a girl to wed to a stranger to advance his goals.

Her fist clenched, followed by a breath so silent neither Pauline nor Emilia noticed. It had been a while since Cecilia had dressed up; it was always difficult now that she needed Slowking's help to parse through colors and outfits. Supposedly, her dress was a deep sapphire blue, though to Cecilia it was just another dark grey among a sea of similar colors. The fabric hugged her form, flowing effortlessly from her waist, but it was the slit along the side that gave the dress its edge—a sharp, precise cut that started just above her knee, revealing a glimpse of her non-scarred leg with every step she took.

Her hair was done into a chignon, and she'd needed Pauline and Emilia's help with her makeup, but.

Cecilia had to admit, it felt exceptional to look this good after so long. It was like going back home after a long day at work. She instead focused on the music softly playing in the background—she'd been trying to find her favorite genre recently and failing—classical was fine; good, even, but not… it didn't click like she wanted it to. Her eyes couldn't help but wander around, glancing at each girl her age who had fair hair. Twice, she had recognized a hostage from the Backlot raid.

"Arceus, this place is more packed than I thought it'd be." Pauline needed to raise her voice a little higher just so she was audible through the constant chatter. "Didn't think contest folk would like plays."

"They're not at all the same, but there's some overlap," Emilia said before placing a hair behind her ear. "Me, personally, I've never been that interested, but I can probably learn a thing or two tonight for next year."

Cecilia was glad Emilia would be getting something out of it; she was tired of being a burden on her friends and wanted to come into her own as fast as possible.

"Oh! That's Vince!" Emilia beamed and pointed at a short boy in the crowd. Cece vaguely remembered him; they'd met in Hearthome when Emilia introduced them to her first friend in the scene. He'd been the one to make a big deal out of Grace's burns like she was some animal on display, but had grown from it quickly. From what she remembered, he was also the one who edited her videos as well, and they split the revenue fifty-fifty. "Hold on, I'll be right back."

Eventually, she brought him back over, and they made small talk about this and that, and so and so. Vincent Campbell had a plethora of stories about coordinator drama; he was tapped into the very core of Hearthome's culture even more than Emilia was. Cecilia did not consider herself above this, she was just anxious about getting as much from the play as possible. She'd definitely go and see Fantina's high level fights in her Gym Arena after this—illusions could serve her well for sets, but the issue was that Lehmhart was completely inexperienced in the matter and did not even have a clue of how to begin. Perhaps Spiritomb…

Those were ideas for the future. She ought to worry about what was in front of her before thinking about the thousandth step.

Her attention was stolen by a glimpse of clear hair—perhaps silver, though Cecilia figured she'd call it blonde anyway. There was a slight gradient to it, becoming darker closest to its roots. It shimmered under the light, not with the warmth she'd expect but with an almost icy sharpness. The girl's bob cut framed her face in perfect, straight lines, neat and deliberate. She had glitter for skin, fake flecks that made them look like freckles on her cheeks. Cecilia blinked as she passed by surrounded by friends and admirers.

"What's her name?" Cecilia asked.

"Huh? Who?" Emilia looked up at her, slightly confused. Cecilia discreetly nudged her chin forward, and her friend's face soured. "Ah. Temperance Porter, remember? One of the best coordinators in the region. I've lost to her, uh, a bunch."

Her eyes never left Temperance's body until she slipped through the crowd too far away to keep track of her. She was a little tall and slightly too shapely, but her hair color was perfect, as was the intensity in her eyes.

"You okay?" Pauline asked.

Cecilia tilted her head. "Hmhm. What color's her hair?"

"Silver, almost blonde—" Vincent was interrupted by Emilia's glare. "What the hell did I do?!"

"Cecilia, come on." Emi shook her head. "You're better than this; don't just go after the first girl who catches your eye because she's like your ex." She made sure to accentuate the word as much as possible. "Plus, Temperance's never dated anyone; we don't know if she's gay."

"Sure," Cece said.

"She's eighteen. You're probably a little too young for her."

Another, "sure."

"Just—" the coordinator groaned and dragged Cecilia close by the arm, or at least tried to. She wasn't as physically weak as Grace, but Cecilia was a lot to move. "You're supposed to be single, remember?" she whispered. "A whirlwind relationship is the last thing you need right now, with Temperance or anyone else." Then, she cleared her throat and addressed the entire group. "The play's starting soon; we should get going. Cecilia, I'm talking to you when it's over."

The ceiling arched high above, vanishing into a shadowy expanse, as if the space itself stretched endlessly. Rows of seats, uniform in their rigid arrangement, seemed to cascade down toward the stage like a sea of dark, polished wood. According to Vincent and Emilia, the room had been repurposed for this play; it was usually used for performances. The stage stood at the room's heart, a stark contrast to the dim surroundings, bathed in a spotlight's artificial glow. All of a sudden, it was as if she was back in Gengar's dream. High above, Cecilia saw private boxes from which the richest guests would observe the play—

Her eye twitched. Was that—

Crasher Wake.

Volkner.

Maylene.

Hidden away on their heightened throne, chatting and laughing as if the world below them didn't exist. What in the world were they doing in Hearthome? Was this to present some sort of unified front? All of the Gym Leaders of Eastern Sinnoh brought together to support Hearthome, the city the worst affected by the bombs? She noticed Maylene looking down at her… phone, probably, and smiling. Cecilia stewed in her confusion and anger as she sat not at but close to the front row. She could see Temperance two seats above her, slightly to the left. Both Pauline and Emilia kept shooting glances at Cecilia, which she ignored.

Did that mean Grace was—

No. She couldn't even fathom it. Better to chase those thoughts away and put them in the box.

The dim lights turned dark, snapping Cecilia back into focus, and the play began.

The thing about plays was that there was a veneer of fakeness—an unshakable awareness that everything unfolding on stage was, at its core, a carefully constructed lie. No matter how skilled the actors, how convincing their voices, there was always the sense that it was just a performance. The scenery, though meticulously crafted, remained painted wood and fabric, never quite transforming into the worlds they sought to mimic.

And yet—

Cecilia was captivated the moment the fog began to creep along the stage, curling around the imitation stones like a slow-moving sickness. Three men—actors portraying Craig, Flint, and Aaron—moved cautiously through the winding, cavernous depths of Mount Coronet, their every step heavy with purpose as they sought to ascend the summit and save the world. The scene felt alive, the artificial mist and painted rocks fading into the background as immersion took over, pulling her into their desperate journey.

Cecilia knew this story; she also knew it was fake. They would not be fighting Regice here, but ascending Coronet to help Cynthia save the world, as was the official story told to the masses. There was no doubt in her mind that the summit would not be Spear Pillar either. As of now, however, the story or statement the play was trying to make was secondary to learning how to actually make this work. So she drank the knowledge afforded to her, desperate not to focus on Maylene.

Cecilia paid attention to the narrator's voice, low and foreboding as it boomed through the stage and made her feel like she was right there with them. Somehow, through everything, it managed to be so commanding she couldn't help but pay attention to what it was saying. A disembodied voice, commanding the eyes, ears, and minds of hundreds of spectators. Her mind drifted to other elements of the play, the way each movement on stage felt deliberate, almost choreographed to match the rhythm of the narrator's words. The actors' faces seemed alive with fear, determination, and exhaustion as if they were as bound by the voice as she was. Had she ever sounded this imposing without Azelf's gift? Cecilia knew the answer to that already.

She might need to get herself a thesaurus.

Each part of the play was crafted to make the actors shine; the entire production existed solely to elevate their presence. Not only did the simplicity of the set draw focus to them, letting every gesture and expression become the center of attention, but Cecilia noticed other technical aspects as well. The lighting, the sound, the way the music lowered in volume right in sync with every flurry of voice lines without feeling out of place.

It was then, Cecilia understood, that a play was industry. Each part—every actor, prop, and beam of light—was like a cog in a vast, intricate machine. If one piece faltered, the entire system could grind to a halt and take the audience out of the play completely. It was not the turning of pages in a book where the mind could easily fill in the missing gaps.

"I get it," she whispered to herself.

Besides her needing to learn public speaking, her Pokemon needed to shine through carefully built sets she would create, sets that would be thematically relevant and also help her win the battle.

Slowking knew how to make things last post-mortem—post-knockout or after he was recalled. She had it; Cecilia had been right.

Besides everything else she needed to work on, besides the lessons, stories and logistics, the theme would henceforth be this:

Her entire team needed moves built to last that each Pokemon would be able to make use of to shine ever brighter.

—

Once the first wall fell, the breakthrough was so immediate she'd instantly started to take mental notes of everything she would transcribe in her diary. Not only was she learning a lot, but Cecilia had found she enjoyed plays a great deal. One might say she might even love them. The certain corniness that they fully embraced was just excellent and a taste she'd instantly acquired.

This was a short play, and one with no intermission, but she decided to use a lull in the moment—the only fight scene she'd seen so far against a few Galactic members guarding the way to the summit, using real Pokemon actors who in most cases were not their fully evolved forms—to run off toward the lobby and write her ideas down. Better that then forget half of them by the time the play was over; she wouldn't be able to forgive herself in such a case. Cecilia excused herself, whispering to her friends that she was going to the bathroom before she left. As soon as she was under the lobby's bright lights, she began to write notes in a frenzy. She was two pages in when she noticed Temperance Porter making her way through the lobby.

Alone.

The silver-haired coordinator shot her a single glance before heading toward the bathrooms.

Cecilia frowned. It was not an inviting kind of stare but more of a competitor's. But why? Cecilia was no coordinator, and they'd never actually seen each other before today. She was not nervous. Even if she was more 'conventionally' attractive to the masses, Temperance was no Grace, and only Grace could make her heart trepidate like an army on the march.

Cecilia hummed and crossed her arms under her chest.

What did she have to lose, anyway?

Cecilia strode into the opulent bathroom with quiet confidence, the marble smooth beneath her heels. The space was pristine but impersonal, the kind of luxury found in high-end hotels. Everything was shining so much that it might as well have all been worthless. Temperance was there, waiting for her with a curious expression, a finger twirling in her hair.

Her eyes were lightly colored.

"You interest me," she declared with unabashed confidence. Her voice was too low, too sultry. Her voice far too self-assured. It shattered the illusion for a moment, but that was fine. Again, she was no Grace.

Cecilia blinked, turning to look at one of the spotless mirrors. There, she met her own blank eyes and her scarred visage. "Is that so?" she said, feigning curiosity. "Perhaps you could explain further."

"I like people like you. People like us, who can just capture a room the moment they walk in it," Temperance said. Cecilia thought her to be wrong; the only reason the coordinator had noticed her was because she looked like a ghost. Temperance's fingers snapped. "I saw you out of the corner of my eyes, and you immediately caught my attention. Do you know how rare that is?"

She reminded Cecilia of how Vincent had treated Grace at first.

Cecilia sighed, and Temperance faltered. As if she hadn't expected her reaction. As if she could get anyone eating from the palm of her hand with nothing but a few words equivocating to 'you interest me; become part of my entourage.' "Explain." Cecilia's voice boomed. The demand matched Temperance's own confidence; it was a challenge of the authority she thought she might have. "Now."

"I thought the eyes were contacts at first." Her breaths were slightly quick. Anxiety, maybe? Probably frustration, much to Cecilia's disappointment. "But they look far too real. You tower over the crowd, and you look like you belong in an art museum, Cecilia."

No last name. That earned her some points.

"You know about me?" she asked.

Temperance laughed dryly, having become comfortable again. "I know you're Emilia Lussier's friend, and we haven't talked much, but she has talent and is a bit of a rising star, so obviously I'd keep track of the people around her; I know that your face is practically made of stone and that few things make it react. I'd like to be one of those things." She took a few steps toward Cecilia. "I know that you caught my attention when I walked in." Had she? Cecilia hadn't noticed the coordinator even stop. "I know that you looked at me pass you by. I know that you're into women and that you had a girlfriend, according to one of my friends."

Temperance was sufficiently close to touch her now. Her hand went up to graze Cecilia's cheek, but the Unovan grabbed her by the wrist when it was less than an inch away from her. She looked at Temperance's painted nails glittering in the light and squeezed a little tighter than she needed to until her would-be seductress somehow smiled and winced at the same time.

"You're mistaken," Cecilia said. "I've no interest in you."

"You followed me here."

"Because you vaguely remind me of someone." For a moment, Cecilia thought she'd ask who. She almost wanted her to ask who. Instead, Temperance's lips curved into a grin, sharp and knowing, with just the faintest touch of smug satisfaction as she stared up at her. Cecilia threw her wrist away, and she shook it. "That'll be that, then," the Unovan said.

Her face fell. Did she think Cecilia would take the bait? "Take my number, at least," she said, almost begging.

Cecilia considered asking what color were her eyes, but it was better not to. To pretend.

Cecilia tilted her head just a little too far. "Maybe if you ask nicely and keep your hair that way the next time you find me, I'll give it to you."

"The next time," she repeated, as if chewing on the thought. "And when would that be? After the play during the fundraiser?"

Cecilia didn't answer; she was already gone, humming as her fingers traced her diary. She had come here to take notes, after all—her eyes widened a smidge when she noticed Emilia waiting against one of the massive pillars sprouting up from the carpeted floor, finger tapping against her elbow in irritation.

"I saw you go in there with Temperance," she said as soon as Cecilia got within earshot. "Cece…"

"I'm surprised you didn't listen in, considering you followed me."

Emilia scoffed. "I wanted to, it's just—I didn't want to step on your toes. And it's Temperance in there." She leaned to the side and watched to see if her colleague would walk out of the bathroom any time soon. After all of this, and despite going up against Temperance a few times in contests, Emilia could still be a nervous fan. "What even happened?"

"Nothing that important. I rejected her—"

Emilia cut her off, eyes and mouth widening in a mix of surprise and horror. "She came onto you?!"

"Somewhat, yes. I did leave the door open to something more should she want it."

Her friend pinched the bridge of her nose, and her foot tapped the ground. "Look, Cece. I'm sorry, okay? I didn't know Maylene would be here tonight."

"It has nothing to do with her."

"It has everything to do with her. You saw her, you got jealous, and now you want to prove… like, you want to prove that you can be wanted by going after some other girl. Bonus points if she vaguely has some qualities resembling Grace!"

Cecilia stayed quiet.

"I get that it's tough, but it's been like a week. Give it time; I promise it'll get easier. You can't lean on whatever this is going to be," she vaguely pointed toward Temperance, who was finally walking out of the bathroom as if nothing had happened, "to make it through, or you're just falling into the same vices."

"Are you quite done?" Cecilia asked. "I told you it wasn't going to lead into anything; we were just playing some messed up game of cat and mouse. I'd like to get back to the play."

"You're still starting therapy next week, right?"

"I am."

"Good. God, what am I going to do with you." Emilia sighed. "Now come on, you're missing Fantina as Commander Jupiter."

Cecilia side-hugged her friend, but out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Temperance looking at her as she walked back into the auditorium.

Maybe if she squinted and kept pretending, Cecilia would be able to feel something.

---

Thank you to my Patreons - Spandaz, Alex Walters, ObsidianOlive, A Ferret, Oblige, Joe, Emilowish, Sean, Tim Schmidt, Dim, Violett T, Kail H, dragonslaver, Jon, RosaC, TsukiNoNeko, NPM, Jim A, Spicyice101, Vesperal, Addmolition exe, Frogsamurai, Alex F, Kiri, Rhuodric, Nord, Filthymacgyver, Grey J, creativityfails, Spartanstoryteller, Peter D, Bum, Zaire M, Plasmatique, Lodris, Chester, AnotherUser, BeautifulBusinessBoi, Papito12495, KeMon C, Geo, Pedro B, Rat, LR Brantley, ZZStrider, Sharkerxjak, Quakdoktor, nothingtoseehere, Mystic Corn, Paul S, coolblue, Ole W, Daniel J, Cosimo, Nick S, Pharros, Michael J, Jan, ChairmanK-, William F, Zhijia, Andy S, HeyMrJack, NineXO, Exceedes, Gustavo S, Serina T, lepton, sqw4l, Micah T, L'iien, Kisekibigdumb, Nikolai M, David G, endgame13, JK, Ian R, Rain, Jason H, Scandalion, ACertainName, Cosimo Yap, menirx, Pierre-Luc J., Alex A., Bridie, Christopher M

 

[Tempera]

What is particularly frustrating is when Grace puts a 'Hero' title on her, so I don't see this relationship being any better than Cecilia - in fact I fully expect it to sour faster because of the rapid codependency flags I see.

Click to shrink...

It was a small moment, so I don't blame you for missing it, but Grace already resolved this on her own;

"Can I start?" Maylene asked. "Like I said, it's not really a big deal. Like, it's not my dad or anything." She was looking directly at me, pink gaze locked and held onto mine, drawing me in like an unbreakable pull.

"Yeah." My response was meek. This felt like a less intense practice session.

"Okay, so there's this issue where the Gym's really been struggling with money, but it was fine until we reopened," Maylene sighed. "Now we have to spend more on our Pokemon because they're the ones doing the fighting, and it means I couldn't pay the cleaning staff on time today because the League wouldn't give any more. The cash flow's too tight." Her lips pressed together in disappointment directed at herself. "And I'm the one who had to make the decision on whose pay would be delayed. I'm the one who had to make that final call, because like, if the trainers or engineers are unhappy, or if we don't spend enough on taking care of our Pokemon, then there's no Gym, and I can't close again because it would fuck everything over—weeks of prep—and it was just… a lot. It was my first time having to deal with that."

I… didn't know what to say. All of this time, she'd helped me deal with my problems, and I hadn't even considered she might be hurting because of things outside of my control for one second. And that was fine. It took a moment to readjust the thought of it in my head because—she was perfect, and yet she wasn't. Maybe that was okay. Maybe she was my Hero, but also just a person.

Click to shrink...

Grace put the 'Hero' title onto Maylene, which was a reflection of her idolisation of Maylene; she'd started considering the other girl to be something almost larger than life, the ideal of a good person who was infallibly good that Grace could rest her self-esteem on by assuring herself that if Maylene respected her then she was doing good.

This moment here was the moment where Maylene slipped off the pedestal in front of her- the moment where Grace realized that Maylene wasn't infallible, but was still trying her best in a really tough situation. In many ways, this was a little moment where she realized that Maylene was like herself- someone who tries to be good, but sometimes slips up because that's just how life goes.

From this point on, Grace has pretty effectively humanized Maylene to herself.

Note that Grace stopped referring to Maylene as her Hero after this point. She just became Maylene again.

I think the take that Grace is being just as codependent with Maylene as she was with Cece to be a little frustrating, because their relationship is explicitly trying not to be as codependent as Grace and Cece were. They communicate regularly and set boundaries explicitly because they both know that Grace has a habit of falling into codependency, and they're trying not to do that.

They limit how much time they spend with each other; Maylene keeps encouraging Grace to spend time with people outside of herself; Maylene is pushing Grace to actually connect with her therapist; Maylene has set boundaries around her job, ensuring that Grace only calls her during her lunch breaks and after work, and Grace has been genuinely respecting that and living up to the spirit of only contacting Maylene outside of those hours if she's literally spiralling into a breakdown right then and there; and they've even kept the structure of their weird BDSM contract to ensure that they don't start falling into each other and just making out constantly during dates instead of using them to emotionally connect with each other.

I don't think they're doing literally perfect at the moment, but this is probably the least co-dependent we've seen Grace being since the very first time Cece ran into Mt Coronet, and they're actively working with each other to make her less co-dependent still.

This is proooobably the healthiest kind of relationship Grace can probably have without just taking a couple years off of dating, which... I'm genuinely not sure she would survive without just falling back into the kind of malaise she was in at the start of the fic.

 

[Blinktwice13]

I respect that response, and even agree with it to a point. But the last line of it - that Grace needs a romantic relationship to function - still doesn't sit well. I feel like honestly the last chapter where Cecelia was learning to be on her own would be a good arc for Grace too. Learning how to function apart from any kind of dyad relationship. Yes, she and Maylene are healthi'er', but that 'er' is doing a lot of lifting. And while she was bad off at the start of the fic, she managed without full romantic support through Eterna Forest and all the way through Hearthome. She used to know how to exist without that. Trauma does things, I guess.

Cecelia had every right to want space, especially with how Grace was spiraling into manipulative tendencies and she needed to learn to deal with her new Ghost aspects. Obviously nobody handled anything right, because they're all battered and traumatized teenagers written in a mostly-realistic fashion. The adults either don't know because State Secrets or are too busy rebuilding the entire country because it went kaboom. There was nobody there to stop this that could, which is realistic but ultimately frustrating.

I'll say this much: like probably everyone else, I saw the cheating coming from several chapters back when things started, and the nausea I felt going through each chapter made whatever dread the Coronet arc gave me pale in comparison. I don't know if people are going to forgive Grace. I'd like it if they did, months or years down the line once she manages to rebuild herself and everything is less raw and new, when they have perspective of hindsight. I'd like it if Grace figured herself out to the point this never happened again, where she found that actualization that Cecelia is working towards thanks to Gengar's kick in the pants. I'd like it they got to have some kind of friendship again someday. I'd like it if one good thing got to stick around. But that's not up to me, ultimately.

 

[Soussouni]

Spoiler: Team

Togekiss/Princess (Hustle) - Pound, Sweet Kiss, Growl, Headbutt, Fairy Wind, Ancient Power, Extrasensory, Thunder Wave, Air Cutter, Wish, Psychic, Shadow Ball, Dazzling Gleam, Moonblast, Charge Beam, Air Slash, Mystical Fire, Tri-Attack, Nasty Plot, Defog

Jellicent/Buddy (Water Absorb) - Bubblebeam, Night Shade, Absorb, Water Sport, Water Pulse, Hex, Poison Sting, Mist, Acid Armor, Shadow Ball, Recover, Brine, Whirlpool, Hydro Pump, Water Spout, Acid, Will-O-Wisp, Ice Beam, Taunt, Scald, Boil, Freeze, Protect, Ice Blade, Rain Dance, Extrasensory

Electivire/Honey (Motor Drive) - Thundershock, Swift, Electric Swift, Thunder Punch, Charge, Leer, Ice Punch, Thunderbolt, Discharge, Fire Punch, Protect, Cross Chop, Thunder, Low-Kick, Screech, Radiant Leap, Static Shield, Bulldoze, Hammer Arm, Rain Dance, Lightning Bolt

Tangrowth/Angel (Chlorophyll) - Vine Whip, Absorb, Mega Drain, Stun Spore, Bind, Poison Powder, Leech Seed, Ancient Power, Power Whip, Knock Off, Sunny Day, Giga Drain, Sleep Powder, Solar Beam, Solar Blade, Brick Break, Ingrain, Bulldoze

Tyranitar/Sweetheart (Sand Stream) - Leer, Tackle, Horn Attack, Rock Throw, Payback, Stomping Tantrum, Smack Down, Bite, Rock Slide, Crunch, Sandstorm, Iron Defense, Dragon Pulse, Iron Head, Earthbreaker, Aerial Ace, Stone Edge, Dark Pulse, Rock Polish, Surf, Earthquake

Turtonator/Sunshine (Shell Armor) - Smog, Ember, Smokescreen, Incinerate, Iron Defense, Flamethrower, Shell Trap, Dragon Pulse, Bulldoze, Scorching Sands, Rock Tomb, Body Slam, Flash Cannon, Solar Beam, Rapid Spin, Scale Shot, Iron Tail, Focus Blast, Sunny Day, Fire Pillar, Flame Charge, Heat Crash, Fire Blast, Shell Smash

Claydol (Levitate) - Mud Slap, Rock Tomb, Rapid Spin, Harden, Confusion, Psychic, Barrier, Imprison, Wide Guard, Light Screen, Reflect, Ancient Power, Teleport

Meltan/Mimi (???) - Not a battler

---

CHAPTER 333

Cecilia got Temperance's number the moment she'd been allowed to leave the party. Her pursuer had needed to run and nearly beg for it, hissing in hushed whispers to not humiliate herself in public that she'd dye her hair blonde and not silver so she could get Cecilia to bite. The Unovan had just smiled and nodded, appreciating the feeling it gave her for the first time that night. She didn't care much for Temperance, but as Emilia had warned, it felt good being desired to the point that she nearly had to break her calm and collected public persona to get her.

So had Cecilia heeded Emilia's warnings and decided to cut whatever this was going to be with Temperance?

No, not exactly.

What did it mean, to be at the top of society? It meant constant, endless parties and meet-and-greets, where your presence was a commodity and your absence a scandal. The weight of every conversation bore the pressure of silent judgments, each smile a calculated maneuver, each laugh a transaction. To climb higher meant more eyes watching, more expectations to fulfill, and less room for missteps. It was a life where leisure became work, and every relationship was a performance staged for an audience.

Perhaps she was letting her trauma shine through a little bit. This was, after all, a simple gathering in Temperance's Hearthome penthouse filled with other coordinators and whatever other jobs they held who were part of her retinue that followed her around constantly. From one look at them, learning each name and face that she would most likely forget come morning, Cecilia could tell these people were actually close friends who could mostly be themselves around each other. It was just that she was new, and since they all competed for Temperance's favor, Cecilia was a threat. Someone their idol had met just a day ago and who was already getting invited to these exclusive gatherings they'd worked for months or even years to get into.

Cecilia crossed her legs on the velvet couch and sipped on her mimosa. There were around twenty people here, give or take—Temperance's closest confidants, some of whom had their Pokemon out and about. There was a Vivillon chatting with a Lilligant under the sun's rays on the balcony, a Squawkabilly perched on a chandelier overhead, a Flareon lounging on a beanbag with Temperance's Dragonair snuggled against it for warmth. On, and on, but that wasn't what she was looking at most of the time.

Cecilia observed the blonde laugh and smile as one of her male friends nervously wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close for a picture that he'd no doubt post on his socials. He liked her, Cecilia guessed, yet it was her that Temperance kept glancing at. Once again, their eyes met. Temperance kept the stare going for one, two, three seconds, until she glanced away and focused on the picture they'd just taken.

She hadn't been looking at the camera, her friend complained.

"How long are we going to stay here?" Emilia asked by her side. She was clearly cross, eyebrows struggling not to knit together. Her body was tense; it had been a while since Cecilia had seen her off balance.

"Have you assigned me a time limit?" Cecilia discreetly whispered back, her mouth hidden behind her glass as she stared at her. The sweetness of the orange juice and acidity of the champagne mixed together perfectly.

"No, it's just that—Legendaries, this is making me want to tear my hair out." She'd just been about to do it before remembering that it would have humiliated her and wasted an hour of work. Emilia took a deep breath and eyed Cecilia's drink; she had vowed not to imbibe any alcohol should 'things go south.' "You know, when I was first starting out, being here… it was my dream," she whispered and glanced around the penthouse. The windows were so large they might as well have been the entire wall. "And now it's just—it's just this."

Temperance had needed little convincing to let Emilia swing by. It had just been a matter of calling her, telling her to let her in or she wouldn't show up, and then ignoring her until she'd relented.

"Enjoy yourself," Cecilia said. "Isn't this an opportune moment to further your career?" When Emilia's face soured, Cecilia's smile flattened. "I suppose you've come here for me, not for them. Sorry."

The apology helped her find her usual calm again. "I just don't want to see you get hurt again, Cece." She leaned forward, grabbing a handful of delicate hors d'oeuvres from a nearby platter, the tiny pastries crumbling slightly between her fingers as she spoke. "But at the same time—I don't want to hold you on a leash, because you've been on one your entire life. So it's tough."

"No matter what happens with her," Cecilia glanced at Temperance again, "I wouldn't get hurt. I don't actually care about her."

"But you see how that's bad too, right? Using her?" Emilia munched on her snacks, then swallowed before continuing. "Don't you want to… I don't know, not get tangled up in this crap?"

"She's using me as well; she went after me because I look unique and she enjoys looking at me. It's mutual."

"Meh. It always starts with no strings or feelings attached, and then what? I'm pretty sure she's into you anyway; she's been staring daggers at you. A mix of daggers and wanting. You aren't making any friends here."

"Who cares?" She stopped herself. "No, not who cares. I just don't want these people to be my friends. There's nothing wrong with them; I simply didn't come here to meet new people. Here, look at this."

Between the idle chatter of the party, Cecilia waited for Temperance to look at her again before she sipped on her glass and wordlessly beckoned her with a single finger, the simple motion somehow cutting through the countless conversations she was a part of. The coordinator's eyes darted around her friends for a moment, as if she was stuck between a rock and a hard place, and she then excused herself. Cecilia pursed her lips.

"Are you really doing this?" Emilia sighed.

"I don't know much about her," Cecilia said. "This is a party, isn't it? I ought to ask her about herself."

Temperance's hair was a little darker today, looking nearly identical to Grace's shade to Cecilia's eyes. She'd come without the glitter on her cheeks that looked like freckles, as if to challenge Cece and show her that she wouldn't fold just because she'd asked a little forcefully, but the Unovan wasn't bothered. There was time.

She'd asked that same boy to follow her—Ronaldo, Emilia whispered in Cece's ear. A Paldean from a minor house who had graduated from the Mesagoza Academy recently. Who was desperate to put a ring on Temperance and to bring her back to his country. The Squawkabilly was his—he fancied himself a bit of a flying type expert. It was a common tactic, to bring an ally with you whenever you were about to enter a conversation outnumbered in one of these settings. Cecilia was glad she had Emi to remember everything about these people.

Cecilia tried giving him a perfectly innocent smile when she stood up and looked down at him. She could sense his Squawkabilly's sharp glare from above like needles against her forehead. Her fake smiles most likely still needed practice.

"Emilia Lussier," Ronaldo respectfully said, nodding at her. "And… pardon me, I didn't quite catch your name?"

"Cecilia."

His eye twitched. "Cecilia…?"

"Cecilia," she said again. "No need for anything else. Temperance, I was wondering if we could have a chat? You invited me here after all; it would be considerate for you to check on every guest." Cecilia paused. "Unless you were expecting me to come after you?"

"I was just getting to you. You aren't the center of the world, Cecilia," Temperance retorted—a clear effort to hurt her that failed as much as a pebble thrown by a child would succeed in destroying a building. "I can make time for you now. Should we sit?"

"Of course." Cecilia smiled and paused, a hand slowly sliding over her own thigh. "Send him back; you don't need a babysitter."

Both Emilia and Ronaldo exchanged wide-eyed glances, their brows lifting in unison as their mouths parted slightly. Temperance linked her arm with the Paldean's and stuck closer to him.

"And why would I do that?" she asked.

Cecilia sipped on her glass and placed it back on the coffee table. "Then don't. I'm leaving. Let's go, Emi."

Temperance thought it was a bluff at first, but when Cecilia walked out the door, she called out behind her. Loudly. The sound cut through the idle discussion of the penthouse, and over twenty pairs of eyes were stuck to Temperance like moths drawn to a flame. More if you counted the Pokemon. The desperation was like a drug to Cecilia, but she didn't even glance back. She'd just been about to walk out with Emilia—who at this point looked extremely displeased—when Temperance grabbed her wrist from behind.

Like always, she blinked first. Cecilia looked down at her flushed face, her skin tingling with glee.

"Fine," Temperance said. "Let's talk, but—you have to send her away too." Temperance looked at Emi.

"Excuse me?" Emilia balked.

"It's one for one. It'd be an equal exchange—"

Equal exchange.

Equal exchange.

Cecilia's heart throbbed as the words percolated in the confines of her skull, being hers and hers alone to enjoy. Temperance and Emilia kept arguing in hushed tones, but she was certain the former had no idea the torrent of endorphins and warmth she'd just unleashed in Cecilia's system. The fact that it was unintentional just made it so much better. But—

"No. Emilia stays."

It'd be best not to get carried away and let Temperance get leverage, especially when she already had a favor to ask.

Emilia exhaled a huge sigh of relief, putting a hand above her heart while Temperance stewed in her own incompetence, fists clenched beside her legs. She knew she should have said no; she knew there was no good reason to entertain this farce beyond her own desire, but Cecilia looked down at her and grazed one of her clenched hands with a lingering finger, and the last thread of self-restraint within Temperance collapsed like a fading star, the very last embers smothered by a single touch. Cecilia gave her a triumphant smile, declaring her victory, and that was the end of that.

Few came to 'rescue' Temperance as they made their way back inside; all were rebuked by the woman herself. So back they were, on the couches that now seemed so much more comfortable, with Temperance's Dragonair shooting her worried looks from its beanbag, tightening around the Flareon who grumbled uncomfortably.

"So," Cece began, "thank you again for inviting me here, Temperance. It's been quite the party."

She rolled her eyes. "This? A party? It's just where me and my friends hang out." Speaking of her friends, Temperance couldn't help but make herself small at their piercing gazes. They'd have many questions for her after this, Cecilia was sure. "It's not a big deal."

Emilia's eye twitched. "I mean—it is. It's the first time you've invited someone you've barely met."

"Sometimes, there's just a spark, don't you think, Emilia?" Temperance stated more than asked.

"That's what I do wonder about," her fellow coordinator said, crossing her arms. "Why Cece and not… I don't know, anyone else at that play?"

Emi shot Cecilia an apologetic look, but the Unovan knew she hadn't meant it in an insulting way. She was simply invested in the answer, just as Cecilia was, despite knowing parts of it.

Temperance scoffed. "Have you seen her?"

"I have eyes," Emilia said. "You know plenty of attractive people."

"Now you're just being obtuse; you see how unique she is. How she strikes importance into your heart the moment you set your eyes on her." Temperance made a mild gesture Cecilia's way. "Either way, looks are only part of it. It's how she interacts with me that's interesting."

"Ah. I get it." Then, she shook her head. "I mean, I don't get it—but I understand what you mean."

Temperance nodded, then leaned forward a little further that was needed. Cecilia didn't give her the glance she no doubt wanted. "When do you think the last time someone… disagreed with me was among my friend group?" she whispered, eyes yearning. "Talked back to me? It's been like two years!"

"That's because if—you put so much pressure on them to be perfect; I've heard of it! You've excommunicated someone from your group for not being up to your standards. You cultivate that culture!" Emilia countered.

"Hm, yes, that interview you had with Yuki and uploaded was very cute," Temperance said, though Cecilia knew she meant it in a demeaning way, "I hear you're still friends."

Cecilia was a little out of her depth here—there was more history between these two than met the eye. Temperance seemed to… not be threatened by Emilia, but perhaps to think of her as a Carvanha nipping at her heels in hopes to see her fall. What Cecilia knew, however, was that Emi was and had always been a massive fan of Temperance. Sure, she'd stopped idolizing her as this flawless, cold, and calculating goddess of performances, but she still watched all of her content religiously and routinely gushed about her skills as a coordinator.

"We are. But anyway—you could have more of what you want if you weren't such a social tyrant," Emi said.

"If there's no risk in pining for me, then how will I know you're worth a damn?" She shrugged with a smirk before glancing toward her friend. "Take Ronaldo, for example. He's a handsome man. Good family even if he lies about their importance in the grand scheme of Paldea's politics. He's a little dry, but there's a funny quality to that. There's a cute, shy side to him because he has next to zero experience with women and he has to push himself to even bring himself to touch me, and seeing him brave that fear is endearing. I could see myself dating him for… I don't know, a month max, maybe."

Emilia nodded along, though Cecilia couldn't see the appeal of a man at all. Or any other girl who wasn't Grace, for that matter. "He's too… vanilla for you, I guess."

Temperance snapped her fingers. "And it's not really his fault. I've just had too many Ronaldos in my life. I got bored of them when I was fifteen."

"I thought you never dated," Cecilia interjected.

"I'm good at secrets, and the group's tightly-knit, so it never got out beyond rumors. Dear Yuki was a bit of an exception—not that I actually dated her. I knew she had a crush on me, and she got a little pissed off when I didn't reciprocate," Temperance said, staring daggers at Emi. She stood her ground regardless. "So that brings me to you, Cecilia." The Unovan didn't react, instead continuing to stare into Temperance's eyes. "Again, beyond how unique you are, you look at me like I'm… worthless." Her face flushed. "You don't even look at me, you look past me, and that makes me want to matter to you."

"I barely know you," Cecilia said, slightly confused.

"See?!" Temperance shivered in her seat, but her face blanked once she realized how loud she'd been. The coordinator turned toward one of her friends and snapped her fingers. "Um. Sandra, a drink for the three of us, if you would?"

Emilia pinched the bridge of her nose. "Cecilia, she's basically asked you to date her."

"I know."

"So?"

"I have something to ask you, Temperance," Cecilia did not sidestep the topic as much as she leaped across it. "I've been trying to develop a new battling style recently. One mixed with plays and such…" she went on to explain the blueprint and framework of what she thought the endgame of her new style would be like, all of which was new to Emilia as well. "Here is the thing, though. The Conference is in less than a month. On my own, I won't be able to develop it enough to perform."

The sheer glee in Temperance's eyes told her she'd made a mistake—she had given her leverage, real leverage, for the first time since they'd met.

"And what does that have to do with me?" the blonde smugly asked as her friend brought three more mimosas for them to sip on. "Do you, maybe, have something to ask?"

Cecilia considered saying no. Telling her that perhaps she'd just wanted her input on the idea and nothing else, but if she said no and Temperance didn't blink this time, then she'd have to come crawling back to her. Who else with as much experience in contests and who was a coordinator of her level could Cecilia ever get access to?

Unacceptable.

"I need you to help my Pokemon and I train. There's overlap in plays and contests, so I believe you'd finally be of use to me for something other than looking like my ex-girlfriend."

The truth was, Temperance didn't really look like Grace at all beyond the hair and maybe the shape of her face, but the words were effective enough to make Temperance's fingers tremble around her slender glass.

"Cece…" Emilia muttered. "That's a crazy thing to say—"

"No, no, it's fine," Temperance said through a trembling breath. "I'd be willing to accept—I can clear my schedule tomorrow, even. It's not like I have a Grand Festival to prepare for." Unlike the Conference, that tournament was canceled and would only be back the following year. "But you forget yourself, Cecilia. You need me. Who else are you going to ask?"

"Uh, me?" Emilia said.

Temperance laughed—a hearty chortle that had her nearly doubling over. "With all due respect, Emilia, you do not hold a candle to what I can impart on Cecilia. In fact, yes, I believe you would only hold her—hold us back. I think this needs to be a one-on-one lesson. The distractions you would bring are unnecessary."

"Excuse me?"

"And think about it—you're a rising star. I'm not about to give you all of my tricks." Temperance shrugged. "I'm sorry, but it would be better if it was just us." The triumphant grin she sported contradicted her apology. "You can come pick her up when I'm done with her, though—"

Emilia rose from her seat, face red with anger. "Cecilia. We should go." A moment stretched into a second, then a few, then five until Emi's eyes met Cecilia's, and realization dawned on her. "Oh."

The Unovan felt her friend's pain, and it made her stomach knot. "I'm sorry, Emi; I need this."

A stare could convey as much as a thousand words. There was mistrust—an idea that she needed to be there, or Cecilia would slip and fall into Temperance's arms and latch herself onto her. Pain at the mild betrayal was secondary, but it was there. For a moment, Cecilia thought she'd storm out and leave, and she was pretty sure Emi herself thought she'd do it, with the way she peeked at the door like it alone would bring her liberation, but she sat back down and closed her eyes, as if to soothe herself back to a stable calm while Temperance's triumphant smile and the high of victory faded.

"I get it," Emilia grumbled. "It's whatever. Just don't come crying if you ever get hurt."

Honestly—

Part of Cecilia wouldn't have been against getting hurt again. At least it meant she would have moved on sufficiently enough to feel something.

—

When you were rich, truly, extravagantly rich, you could commission a secret underground arena built just for yourself with a dedicated man on staff to maintain it when it was used. There was a lot of money to be made in the coordinator business in Sinnoh. Not only did they have access to the same sponsors trainers had, but money prizes for contests were far larger and they happened far more frequently than the, at most, eight gym badges you won in a year as a trainer. Combine that with Temperance being a massive content creator who had launched a beauty product company last year for both people and Pokemon that her fans had swarmed toward, and it was fair to say that she had the kind of opulence that was rare in this country. She wasn't as rich as Louis' family had been, for example, or Emilia's still was, but she did have money to throw around while still being able to live in luxury. Of course, in Unova, she'd be a minuscule fish in a very big pond.

They didn't linger in small talk much—not that Temperance didn't try to pry about Cecilia's life. To keep her under her thumb, Cecilia needed a carrot and a stick. The carrot, well, was Cecilia herself, or at least the idea of finally obtaining her before she went and fled to Unova. When Emilia had brought up that Cece would be leaving yesterday near the end of the party, Temperance had said she wouldn't let a little distance stop her and that airplanes existed for a reason. She'd stopped when Cecilia had glared at her for daring to be that forward and hadn't brought up the idea again. Cecilia bet she was still letting it smolder within her.

The stick? It was actions such as these. The threat that one day, she would leave and never come back, leaving her forever wondering what could have been.

"So, Cecilia." While the Unovan had come dressed casually, Temperance had again come wearing expensive and revealing clothes that failed to garner any attention. "I genuinely believe your play idea is good, even if there are a few kinks to sort out. I had never heard of a trainer actually putting that amount of effort in their battles beyond Fantina! So lo and behold, I went and took a look at your Gym Battles last night to see if there was a foundation we could work on." Her face twisted in sheer horror and disappointment, and she gestured at Cecilia as if she wanted to grab her and shake her. "What is wrong with you?!"

"What? I know it's not my best work, but it got the job done for a while," she deadpanned.

"Not your best work? Even if we count the last two which had some things of note, there was no individuality to anything you did!" Cecilia wanted to smile at that complaint. If only she knew. It was true that she had just… mimicked Grace rather than strive to find her own path against both Byron and in her second attempt against Wake. "But you had a good idea with the play thing, so it's still salvageable. Thank God you asked for help before it was too late; you'd be useless without me."

"You wish," Cecilia said. "So tell me."

"Er, first, the good. Your Talonflame and your Slowking have potential. Your Golurk, a little less so, but it's still there. The rest of your team would have been lost causes without us crossing paths." Temperance snapped her finger. "The bad? Literally everything else."

Cecilia laughed, eliciting a surprised smile from Temperance. "I know right?" she chuckled.

"The way you battle feels like you're trying to… convince yourself that you are more than you are. It feels like looking at someone who's desperate, yet who's hidden it behind big explosions so she can still feel big and strong."

"There's truth in that. I was dealing with a lot of issues."

"Obviously. Do you take me for some kind of amateur? Psht." Temperance raised her already-short skirt, revealing five shrunken Pokeballs attached to a strap around her bare thigh. "Made you look," she boasted in a sing-song voice.

Cecilia's nose wrinkled. "What a petty trick."

"There's more of that where that came from." She winked before tapping her Pokeballs. "Aw, you stopped looking already."

"Behave and I might stay for a few hours after this," Cecilia said.

Her eyes shone with desperation. "Really? Okay—before we start talking about your Pokemon, let's talk about you. You said you want to make a statement about yourself through these fights, battle according to your mood, and so on and so forth, and that's good. Battles are the ultimate form of self-expression for trainers, and there's so much wasted potential in your community that it pisses me off." She sniffed haughtily. "If you battle in a boring way, I'll think that you're boring in turn. The same goes for coordinators."

And her standards were high enough for people to be desperate to prove themselves to join her group despite failing time and time again.

"At least you're attempting something better now. You're lucky you caught my heart before I saw your battles, or I never would have given you the time of day," she added.

"I suppose I am," Cecilia had to admit.

"But! Here's the deal about what you want to do. It's really fucking complicated and convoluted. I mean, the amount of time you'd need to change and reset or severely change the field to make it work is crazy, but that's where your caveman urge to make your Pokemon as strong as possible comes in handy. It makes it easier to rip things apart." She hummed in contemplation for a second. "Turning your orders into some fancy narration type of thing is interesting, but battles are fast. You can easily get lost in the weeds of the statement you're trying to make while your Pokemon are getting rolled. As for your voice, I can teach you how to make it a tool. It's all about practicing with pitch and your larynx. The Conference is on the fifth… it's going to be tight; you're lucky you can train with me. If you want to be ready, we'll have to see each other every day to train."

"That is an acceptable arrangement, even if I'd appreciate it if you didn't look this happy."

Temperance rolled her eyes, smile unfading. "What's up with you? I mean I know about your ex, but you've got a beautiful catch throwing herself at you and you keep ducking. I've never been with another woman before, you know? You should just give up on her and indulge."

She was pushing her advantage too much; Cecilia needed to knock her down a peg. A single step was all it took to close the distance, and Temperance froze like a Deerling caught in headlights. Cecilia's gaze lingered, intense and unwavering, as she leaned in just close enough for her breath to ghost over Temperance's ear. "Careful," she murmured, her voice low, teasing, dripping with power. "We both know you have leverage, but you wouldn't want to forget who's really in control, would you?" Temperance's breath hitched with a choking sound, and for a fleeting moment, the air between them crackled with an unspoken tension—half challenge, half surrender. "You're certainly helpful, but I do not need you. I could leave and go back to Emilia, and I'm sure I'd be able to at least hold my own in groups. It wouldn't be ideal, but I'll be going to Unova hated by half the nation already, good performance at the Conference or not."

It was mostly a lie, but it worked. A meek, miserable nod was her only reply.

Honestly, she was so fucking easy.

"Wear fake freckles tomorrow," Cecilia ordered. She pushed her back a little harder than she needed to, and Temperance wiped the corner of her mouth with her thumb.

"Hmhm."

"Come on now, get your thoughts back in order; we shouldn't keep wasting time with these worthless games."

"I was—I was going to ask if there was a Pokemon you wanted to work with first." She cleared her throat, as if to reset her own tone. More confidently, she continued, "your Pokemon need to have tools to make themselves shine, and only Talonflame even has an inkling of that so far."

"Hydreigon," she said immediately.

"Hm. A tough but fair choice. Probably the hardest one you could have made, really. I thought you'd ease into it. Err… your Hydreigon is… tamed, right?"

"Hm?"

"I don't have to watch for danger?"

Ha.

Hahahaha! Cecilia's laughter burst out of her like an unstoppable wave, her body doubling over as she clutched her convulsing stomach. Tears welled in her eyes as each laugh became more breathless, more wild, spilling out in gasps between uncontrollable fits.

Really? One of the best coordinators in the region, scared of Zolst?

"It's not funny!" Temperance yelled.

"Oh, Legendaries." She exhaled, wiping tears from the corner of her eyes. "I haven't laughed like that in months. That was such an unexpected and pathetic thing for you to say."

Her eyes widened. "Pathe—Not everyone can be a fucking brute like you. Your Hydreigon looks like some wild uncontrollable Pokemon every time he fights."

"The truth is, I have had issues with him recently; he tried to mimic killing me a few times." Temperance looked like she paled—it was difficult to tell. "But the worst is behind us. He might scare you if you annoy him, but—"

"I think we should stick to my Dragonair today, then," she cut in, shuffling uneasily at the edge of the arena. She grabbed her Pokeball and clasped it tightly. "I've seen how you use Dragon TE, though it's crude at best. You cloak your Hydreigon in it to weaken attacks before they hit him, and that makes its already tough hide nearly impossible to penetrate unless he's hit by something that can see through the fakeness, like fairy or dragon, or an opponent's firepower outclasses yours." Cecilia nodded; she'd already been certain of that second part, though she'd never tested it out exactly. "Every type of energy interacts within the same system, which is why you can mix and match them. Basically, you're puffing up your chests and saying 'you can't hit me!' and it works."

"It's fake. A trick."

"It's bullshit," Temperance snorted. "It makes you realize that the world's a whole lot more bullshit strung together with a bunch of tape than anything else, but it lets you toy with it as well, which. Is. Fucking. Incredible. That's why I'm a coordinator. That's what gets me up in the mornings."

Cecilia couldn't help but see flashes of Grace in that passionate speech, but now she knew she was just seeing things. Anyone would sound excited at the prospect of telling someone about their passion.

She bitterly sucked in air through her teeth. "I wish I knew what got me up in the mornings."

Temperance's eyes fluttered at the brief moment of weakness afforded to her, and then grinned, her face sharpened by ambition. "With a little bit of luck, this'll be it. That's what living means. You find what's your fire in life, your one flame, and you shove your hand in it. You grab onto its very essence, and never let go even if it burns. Everything else can come later. At least that's how I did it." It looked like she wanted to say something else. Like she wanted to ask another question, but she didn't. "Anyway, I'll start for now. This is a little trick I learned in my first year, and it's the basis of everything Dragonair does, so keep your eyes peeled."

With the Pokeball she'd been holding, she released Dragonair onto the flat, rocky field. The blue-scaled wyrm lazily stared around itself and then glared at Temperance, eyes lit with none of the gentleness its species was known for.

"I know we trained earlier today already," she said. "But this is for… well, this is Cecilia, actually. A new friend I made recently that I want to date." Dragonair rolled its eyes while letting out a judgy whine. "Yes. Another. But this one's different; I swear she's going to last for more than a month if I get her!"

"Could you not talk about me like some prized item?" Cecilia sighed.

"My bad. Things can get out of hand between us two; you'll have to forgive us. Anyway, 'Nair, can you give us your little attention-grabbing trick? I'll let you have a sip of gin later."

Dragonair's eye twitched, and it instantly took to the air without another complaint. Its flight was one of reverence and awe-inspiring silence, almost reminiscent of Cynthia's Togekiss. It made Cecilia's trainer heart warm to know that even Coordinators looked to her for inspiration.

"Atta' girl," Temperance whispered to her Dragonair. "Focus, Cecilia."

"I am." The reply came quiet and breathless.

Her eyes were glued to the hovering dragon, her body elongated to its maximum length as she fluttered the wings on her head. They took an eerie light that Cecilia couldn't help but look at.

One second, the air above her was still and lit only by the bright ceiling lights.

The next, it erupted into a pulse of draconic energy. Light bled from Dragonair's form in sharp flashes, weaving through the air in smooth, hypnotic arcs, illuminating the space like a living storm that crackled with a singing roar. Cecilia wanted to sear the image into her mind, to imprint it upon her eyes so she would only be able to see Dragonair when she closed her eyes—it was nearly hypnotic, and yet they were just that. Lights. For thirty seconds, they spun, stretched and roared around the room, carrying with it the smell of scorched earth.

"Show off." Temperance's voice was so quiet beside Cecilia that she nearly missed it. "They look pretty, but that's just draconic energy that she made hers by arranging it in pleasing configurations. It kind of looked like aurora borealis, didn't it?"

"It did," Cecilia muttered, though she couldn't see the color. "It was beautiful. Genuinely."

"It doesn't have to look this pretty with yours—that took me at least a year and a half to perfect. It's not like you're going to have judges hounding you if it looks like the sky's uncontrollably on fire."

"I would like it to be on fire," Cecilia said, "but I would also like it to be as pretty as yours one day."

Temperance drew a sharp breath. "Thanks. Uh, anyway, this is just a basic trick. You said you wanted these attacks to last, right? First we gotta teach your Hydreigon how to let that energy linger in the air even when it's back in its ball—"

"Then you have to teach us how to make it get everyone's attention."

"Hmhm. Which TE are your Pokemon most familiar with?" Temperance asked. Cecilia had the answer to some of these, like ghost with Lehmhart but others were a tossup. Talonflame, for example, was just as good with fire as she was with flying. "So long as there's no fairy in there, you mix those to dragon so they can move it around, and then you've got six Pokemon the audience can't help but look at. Of course, it's easier said than done—dragon energy's tough to work with, even if some TEs have an easier time. Each Pokemon has to have the right mixture, because what x might be able to use, y might not, but you also can't dilute the dragon TE too much, or you've got useless energy soup on your hands. It's also tougher when you have six Pokemon to worry about at all times with switches instead of one or two for the entire thing, but figuring that out is your job, not mine."

"I'll manage," she declared for herself. She had to.

"Now, Dragonair. Show that to Cecilia one more time will you?"

—

Cecilia hadn't planned to stay with Temperance this long, but training had run late, and now she was back at her spacious penthouse. Seeing it empty in the evening was night and day when compared to the party yesterday. The Unovan herself had never trained as intensely as she had today, never pondered the way type energy worked as coordinators often did. Temperance was a good, but ruthless teacher—she was relentless in quizzing Cecilia in the mixing and matching of different energies and working backwards with how exactly she thought Dragonair had made a certain move. She was reminded of her many tutors back in Unova, which she didn't know how exactly to feel about.

"I'm going to take you to see more plays, since one isn't enough for the kind of show you want to put on," Temperance said, bringing some expensive bottle of wine back in the living room with two glasses. She poured a few drops of the red in one of the glasses. "Taste."

Cecilia spun the glass around and inhaled the rich, fruity smell before taking a sip. "It's good. Though I've never been one to fuss over wine."

"Well it cost a fortune, so it better be." Temperance smirked, and poured them two glasses. "I've booked another play in the city in two days—one with a lot of scenes I think will be of help to you because they use Pokemon for it instead of artificial, human techniques. Of course, what you want to do is orders of magnitude more than that, but it's a start."

"How many tickets?" Cecilia asked.

"Two."

Ah. She was excluding Emilia again.

"Fair enough. I'll have to tell her about it, then. Thank you for the help—genuinely. It'll make a distant project into a reality."

Her teacher sat down a little too close for Cecilia's tastes, but a simple glare shooed her away. Temperance bit her lip. "Uh, anyway. If we're spending time together not in secret like my past partners, it's going to trend online. I don't want to brag, but I'm one of the most famous people in the country."

"I know that already?"

"Pfft. You never know with you trainers. You wouldn't know the number of snotty kids who challenge me just because I have a Dragonair."

"We would do that," Cecilia acquiesed with a smile. "But it… doesn't matter. Rumors, gossip, whatever it brings. I don't care."

"Hm. You obviously do care; look at your face."

Cecilia hadn't realized she'd been grimacing at the prospect. She hid her face behind her wine glass and took another sip.

"It doesn't matter. We aren't together anymore."

"I've seen plenty of people who struggle to get over their ex," Temperance said. "And every time they say it doesn't matter, it does. Not that it bothers me, I mean, I'm going along with it." She pointed at her blonde hair. "Believe it or not, but I'm not just good at talking; I'm good at listening too. We can talk about it if you want."

"Careful," Cecilia muttered. "Don't push your luck."

"I said if you want. No need to make murder eyes at me." Temperance crossed her legs and downed her glass in one go. So little self-restraint. "That hits the spot. I mean, I did look into it and read the statement you put out, but now that I saw how in love you still are with her, it reeks of PR. Sounds to me like she—"

"Stop."

"—left you, maybe? And you loved her still, but she didn't want to be with you. I mean, there are rumors of Grace Pastel and Maylene Suzuki dating. I say rumors, but it's all but confirmed at this point. She moved on so quickly, huh? She's not even bothering to look back—"

"Enough!"

Cecilia gripped Temperance by the collar and pulled. She whimpered, and the glass she'd been holding went tumbling down the couch, and then shattered against the ground. She held the coordinator close, face contorting with barely controlled rage. Imagining the two of them together—she couldn't—she couldn't yet she had dreamed of it ever since Grace had revealed cheating on her.

"Shut your mouth and be quiet," she ordered. "You've burned a lot of accumulated goodwill tonight; don't think I won't still leave you whenever you bother me too much."

Temperance's skin glittered with a nervous sweat; her skin was flush with blood, even up to her ears and down to her neck. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

Cecilia let go and grabbed her own hand as what she'd done dawned on her. "No. I'm—I'm the one who's sorry." What was she even doing? Getting violent with someone? "I don't usually do this. I—I should leave—"

"It's fine. I'm the one who intentionally pushed your buttons," Temperance quickly cut in, smoothed out her top. "I wanted to provoke a reaction—and it was fine. I liked it. Being scared."

It wasn't fine. She should never do this to anyone. Cecilia cradled her face, feeling tears well up in her eyes that never fell.

"She really did a number on you, huh?" Temperance murmured.

"I hurt her too. So many times. But it's too late for take backs, now. I'll never hold her in my arms ever again. Never even see her again, beyond maybe the occasional passing glance whenever we cross paths."

"...I can try to make you forget about her," she tried, taking her chance to scoot herself closer. "I can try to show you what it's like to date someone else. To make you think of me instead of her."

"You can't."

"I said I can try. I didn't say I would succeed."

Temperance's hand went to touch Cecilia's face, and it traced the long scars from Jupiter's Skuntank. She'd had her stitches taken out recently. The contact felt cold and devoid of meaning.

"Tell me about her," Temperance said.

So Cecilia did. In a rare moment of weakness, she told Temperance everything, from the moment she'd met Grace properly in Floaroma to all of their adventures and times together for hours on end as they slowly got tipsy on her wine. She amended a few parts, of course. The classified information she couldn't go over, along with the way Grace cheated on her. In the end, she came out of the story looking like the main cause of their relationship collapsing, but it was… whatever. She wasn't about to compromise Grace just so she could feel better about herself.

"First relationships often end up in disaster," Temperance said with a saddened smile. They were leaning against each other now, though the blonde was doing ninety percent of the work. "Mine ended because I got jealous about my boyfriend's skills as a coordinator and blew up at him. I couldn't handle the fact that he was better than me when we were first starting out." She laughed. "Ah, man, I remember. It was before I settled on Temperance for my name."

Cecilia blinked, then stared at her. "Is it… a stage name?"

"No, it's my actual name that I'm in the process of changing legally. Only a few people know this because most actually just don't bother to check, or bother bringing it up, but my actual name right now is Pamela. Pam, for short."

Cecilia couldn't help but laugh, and both women chuckled for a few seconds. "One of the most successful coordinators of our age," the trainer snorted. "Pamela."

"There's a reason I changed it. It never felt—it never made me feel right in my own skin. It took me like eight months after I started my career to settle on Temperance, and oh boy, was that name big shoes to fill. You know, people hear it and it's just…" she outstretched her hand, as if she was reaching for the stars, and she snatched them. "They think you're going to rock their world. So it's tough when all you have is a Cottonee who only knows how to do fancy powder moves."

"Ha. I'd bet." Cecilia's fingers intertwined in Temperance's hand. Hers was sweaty, and the Unovan's was not. "Is that a common thing? In the few contests I've been to, you see a lot of those."

"It's like the first trick any rookie with a grass type learns. Make your powder moves glow certain ways by infusing them with different TE—most judges swat down that type of stuff. They would rather see something botched and unique than the same cookie cutter stuff over and over, but most rookies don't want to risk humiliating themselves on stage by fucking up."

"You know, it's a shame there are no more contests this year. I'd sign up for one."

"You'd do terrible."

"I know. It'd be fun, though," Cecilia said. "I need to go see Fantina battle as well, since her Gym is going again."

"Hey. You know what else would be fun?"

Temperance turned toward Cecilia and made yearning eyes at her. Cecilia could smell the wine on her warm breath—Grace never drank. She could see how eager and expecting Temperance was—Grace's eyes would be closed or barely open. Temperance herself slowly leaned forward—Grace would have gone in quicker.

Cecilia placed her index finger on Temperance's lip before she could get too close. "Temperance."

"You're ruining the mood," the girl said behind her finger.

"I can't like you. Not romantically, at least. I can see us being friends, but I won't fall in love with you."

"Ow. That genuinely hurt more than I thought it would—mood ruined," Temperance sighed and leaned back. "You know, you wouldn't be my first friends with benefits, but it's like—meh. I want to try to make you fall for me."

"Will you?" Cecilia asked.

"I want to."

She made Temperance shiver with a piercing stare that practically seized her by the throat. "This is not a rhetorical question; it is a request. Make me fall for you." Cecilia wasn't certain she would ever be able to stop loving Grace, but if she could find a girl she liked just a little bit, then maybe, just maybe, she will have cleared the first bump in the road. "Until then, we won't be dating."

"Come on. If you want me to make you fall in love, then we have to date. Doesn't have to be exclusive and all. I tend to get possessive, but I can share with Emilia Lussier."

"What? Emi? I'd never date her."

"Damn. No hesitation, huh? You're pretty ruthless—not that I didn't know that."

"She's my friend. I don't hurt my friends—at least not consciously," Cecilia corrected herself. "It doesn't matter what she might think."

"Pretty sure she wants you."

"I don't want her."

"Music to my ears," Temperance smirked, once again sneaking closer. "Now, can I kiss you?"

"You can try," Cecilia sighed.

Temperance leaned in, and their lips met. It was underwhelming. She was a good kisser who fought for control until Cecilia bit her lip and made her whimper with a mixture of pain and pleasure.

Yet, Cecilia felt nothing, so she pushed Temperance down, closed her eyes and imagined Grace under her.

Finally, her heart was alive in her chest; her veins flared with warmth and blood; she found herself smiling against Grace—Temperance's lips as the girl's voice leaked out and she wrapped her arms around Cecilia's neck.

There's my fire.

The next time, she'd ask her to turn off the lights.

—

"You were up there late."

Back when Cece had first met Emilia, she'd never have thought that her friend could have so much suspicion and ire in her voice. Little meek Emilia, turned into a strong and independent voice that rarely let others trample upon hers.

"You didn't have to actually come pick me up," Cecilia said. Emilia walked next to her as they made their way toward the nearest Center. "I could have stayed."

Emilia exhaled. Her eyes were half-closed under a streetlight. "What happened up there?"

Well, for one, Cecilia was certain Temperance would have to wear a scarf tomorrow, but Emi didn't have to know that. "We trained for a good while—Temperance is an excellent teacher who I'll be seeing basically every day, now." She waited to gauge Emilia's reaction, of which there was none but a nod and a warning to not get too dependent on her. "Then we went back to her penthouse and discussed life over wine." A pause. "Long story short, we're dating now. She'll announce it to her fans tomorrow."

That got a reaction, however subtle. Her time with Grace had long taught her to watch her friends' body language, and while she was nowhere as good, she caught the sharpness of her next breath and and flattening of her lips. She waited until a lonely car passed them by to continue.

"I figured there were good odds of that happening," Emilia said. "I just didn't expect it to be this fast. You two don't even know each other—you literally met three days ago."

"Sometimes things happen fast," Cecilia said.

"Do you even like her?" Emilia asked. Never did her tone rise, but the judginess was impossible to miss.

"Not at all, and she knows that. I'm trying to communicate with her, at least. Learning."

Her friend let out a long sigh and threw her head back. "This is a horrible idea."

"I don't think so. I can end it at any moment, and she'd understand. So can she. There would be no hard feelings."

"I'm just saying that Temperance… isn't… like, I have a bunch of girl friends I can introduce you to if you need someone."

"There's nothing wrong with her. I've actually learned a good amount about her; she's more than meets the eye."

"I—obviously I know that. No one can be their online persona twenty-four seven. I'm just saying that if you're so desperate to date someone else, she's not the girl you should be looking at. Here, Yuki, for example—"

Her tirade was interrupted by a text on Cecilia's phone. She'd forgotten to put it on silent.

Temperance - I miss you already babe.

You - I don't. Stop messaging me, Pamela.

Temperance - Cece, we're dating. Girlfriends message each other. Also, don't call me that.

You - I don't care. Message me again and I'm blocking you until tomorrow.

The message got a heart react under it, which made Cecilia squint at her screen and smirk.

"I'm going to try things out with her. It is what it is. Now, if you have something else to say that perhaps pertains to your likely attraction to me—"

Emilia raised and shook her hands in a mild panic. "Legendaries, no! You're pretty and all, but no. I have—a lot of other people that are flirting with me that I could probably get with at any time." She let out a nervous laugh. "I mean, not a lot. A decent amount. Uh, like three. Vincent, Lena—"

"I believe you."

"—Raine. I just don't think I can handle one right now. Anyway, you're my friend. I would never look at you from that angle."

"What about Temperance, then?"

"I mean, she's pretty too. I did have a crush on her when I didn't actually know what she was like, but that's gone."

"Then there's no problem," Cecilia declared with a smile and a clap of her hands. "Don't worry, I know I'll be with her every day, but if I ever feel like I'm growing dependent, I'll let you know."

"You probably won't be able to tell, Cece," she said. "And you should tell me about what you feel before things start going haywire."

"That's fine by me as well."

"Then we're in agreement."

"This won't be an issue?" Cecilia asked. "Because if it is and it's going to disrupt the already-fragile group, I can always br—"

"It's fine. I get it; I'm not gonna get in your way. Just keep me updated on everything, and it'll be fine. I will."

"And you're sure about it this—"

"Yes! Fuck, Cecilia, I'm not made of glass." Her tone rose slightly. "I told you I only cared because I don't want you to crash and burn."

"Okay. Thank you."

Well.

Cecilia thought that could have gone a lot worse, all things considered.

A/N: There was also supposed to be a Grace POV in this, but it would have been too long (probably like 15-18k words), so it'll be split.

---

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[Gummy_Dragon]

Cece and Temperance look toxic as hell.

 

[Soussouni]

Spoiler: Team

Togekiss/Princess (Hustle) - Pound, Sweet Kiss, Growl, Headbutt, Fairy Wind, Ancient Power, Extrasensory, Thunder Wave, Air Cutter, Wish, Psychic, Shadow Ball, Dazzling Gleam, Moonblast, Charge Beam, Air Slash, Mystical Fire, Tri-Attack, Nasty Plot, Defog

Jellicent/Buddy (Water Absorb) - Bubblebeam, Night Shade, Absorb, Water Sport, Water Pulse, Hex, Poison Sting, Mist, Acid Armor, Shadow Ball, Recover, Brine, Whirlpool, Hydro Pump, Water Spout, Acid, Will-O-Wisp, Ice Beam, Taunt, Scald, Boil, Freeze, Protect, Ice Blade, Rain Dance, Extrasensory

Electivire/Honey (Motor Drive) - Thundershock, Swift, Electric Swift, Thunder Punch, Charge, Leer, Ice Punch, Thunderbolt, Discharge, Fire Punch, Protect, Cross Chop, Thunder, Low-Kick, Screech, Radiant Leap, Static Shield, Bulldoze, Hammer Arm, Rain Dance, Lightning Bolt

Tangrowth/Angel (Chlorophyll) - Vine Whip, Absorb, Mega Drain, Stun Spore, Bind, Poison Powder, Leech Seed, Ancient Power, Power Whip, Knock Off, Sunny Day, Giga Drain, Sleep Powder, Solar Beam, Solar Blade, Brick Break, Ingrain, Bulldoze

Tyranitar/Sweetheart (Sand Stream) - Leer, Tackle, Horn Attack, Rock Throw, Payback, Stomping Tantrum, Smack Down, Bite, Rock Slide, Crunch, Sandstorm, Iron Defense, Dragon Pulse, Iron Head, Earthbreaker, Aerial Ace, Stone Edge, Dark Pulse, Rock Polish, Surf, Earthquake, Ice Fang, Flamethrower

Turtonator/Sunshine (Shell Armor) - Smog, Ember, Smokescreen, Incinerate, Iron Defense, Flamethrower, Shell Trap, Dragon Pulse, Bulldoze, Scorching Sands, Rock Tomb, Body Slam, Flash Cannon, Solar Beam, Rapid Spin, Scale Shot, Iron Tail, Focus Blast, Sunny Day, Fire Pillar, Flame Charge, Heat Crash, Fire Blast, Shell Smash

Claydol/Cassianus (Levitate) - Mud Slap, Rock Tomb, Rapid Spin, Harden, Confusion, Psychic, Barrier, Imprison, Wide Guard, Light Screen, Reflect, Ancient Power, Teleport, Earth Power, Sandstorm, Scorching Sands

Meltan/Mimi (???) - Not a battler

---

CHAPTER 334

"It's been so surprising to see you at all these public events—let alone an interview with SNN! People have long struggled to squint past your… elusiveness, but it really feels like you've begun to step into Craig Goodwill's shoes recently. What do you have to say to that?"

I stopped myself from noticing Mimi vibrating around my neck, and stopped myself from gulping too loud into the microphone as I brought it closer to my mouth. In front of me was a live audience of around fifty or so who had paid Poketch and the Sinnohan News Network—a different news channel than the SGNC—to be here. From high-level trainers to regulars of the show who had money to spend to whoever would be interested in seeing me talk on the Paloma Show live instead of on TV. In front of me was the woman herself, Paloma Kier. Dark-skinned, long-legged, and short-haired, she was a young rising star in the news industry thanks to the long-form podcast-like interviews she did with any personalities she deemed interesting. Tonight, that was me.

"I owe a lot to Craig." There was a lot to keep track of. My face, if I was smiling enough, if I was smiling too hard, the pace of my breaths, the twitching of my hands around the mic—I had to be tailored for television but not seem too unnatural. I still had to be myself, to some degree. Worthy of the position, but still a person. It was a tricky line to walk. "He offered me guidance when I was lost and just out of Mount Coronet, and he's been one of the trainers I admired the most, not only because of what he represented, but because I saw who the man was first-hand. His work ethic was second to none…" it felt good to finally be able to be real in this interview and talk about what I admired about my predecessor. There were only a few windows to say what I really thought here, like how I, for example, would have rather been doing literally anything else.

But at least one could say it was kind of acting practice, which I was trying to pack a lot of in my daily life these days.

Paloma beamed at me, waiting for the round of applause at Craig's accolades to diminish before she straightened her back on her comfortable couch. I tried not to wince at the loud feedback loop in my hearing aid, but I could tell from Paloma's apologetic stare that I failed. The studio was arranged somewhat like a lounge and a fireside chat in a cabin during winter, so it looked pretty cozy. It kept reminding me of how tired I was. Being a Poketch mule was hard work; I could almost picture myself drifting off to sleep next to the fire…

"We've talked about your work within Poketch and the way you train, but let's talk about you," Paloma said, before turning toward the audience. "Do we have any Grace fans in here tonight?" Around eleven people raised their hands, which was more than I expected. "Excellent, excellent! Does anyone have a question for her?"

A few hands went down, then nearly all of them—were they nervous to speak to me? Two were left, and one of the crew members discreetly passed them a microphone from behind before the camera feed switched to a trainer in his early twenties. I figured he was a trainer because he just had the look about him.

"Uh." He cleared his throat; he was clearly nervous. "My name's Andrew. Been following your Circuit since you disappeared into Coronet and were presumed dead and came out with a Larvitar. I guess that's relevant to the previous question about Craig." Andrew anxiously chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. "My question is—it's been a while since we've seen you battle. Seriously battle, not just train with your colleagues or fighting people in public arenas." That was true enough. There would always be a difference between training with no stakes and an actual Gym Battle or a fight to the death. "A lot of fans are nervous about your rematch with Byron, since it's going to be your last try. I guess I wanted to ask how ready do you feel?"

Oh.

That was tricky.

On one hand, the real answer was that I was utterly terrified because the consequences went beyond a badge and the Conference, beyond being demoted within the Poketch hierarchy. If I failed to reignite something here, if I screamed out into the world and all I heard back was the faint echo of my own tired voice, then—

Then what else was left?

But I couldn't just say that, could I?

"Of course, I'm always going to be nervous with such high stakes in a single thirty-minute match," I replied with an honest smile. "I mean, getting to the Conference in my first year's the kind of stuff dreams are made of; I'd love to make it a reality. I've been preparing as hard as I can in order not to disappoint myself and my fans."

I hated that answer. It was vapid and felt untrue to myself. I liked having fans, even if interacting with them wasn't my favorite thing to do nor my forte, and I didn't want them to think ill of me, but they were not the reason I was worried here. They didn't even occupy one percent of my anxieties.

"But my first loss to Byron taught me a lot of things," I added. "Hell, it basically saved my life—" I swallowed my next word when Mimi pricked me in the neck. Crap, I was not supposed to say that. "Um, that was a figure of speech. I get really into battling, haha…"

That salvaged it a little. I could have spoken about Coronet—the official story the League had peddled anyway—but that was the last thing I wanted. I'd had enough of things reminding me of that mountain; my only desire was to move past it.

The next question followed, this time from a chubby teenage girl. She was even wearing my merch.

"Is—is it okay to ask personal questions?" she asked, not introducing herself.

I resisted the urge to make eyes that may or may not have had fighting intent at her and kept up my not-too-forced smile. There was no Melody with me to tell me yes or no to this, but I'd been vetted before this interview to take these whenever possible. Poketch was done coddling me, and Craig had taken a million questions about his life, even if he ended up dodging a good majority of them. With a restrained sigh that thankfully didn't make it through the microphone, I nodded.

"I think I speak for a lot of us when I ask: what exactly is going on with you and Maylene?" Her voice went quiet by the end of that sentence. She wanted to go on, but this had taken all of her courage.

Unfortunately, I was no Craig, able to dodge and weave in between questions that I didn't like all while satisfying my inquirer. I stayed silent for a moment, freezing while I recalled what Poketch had coached me to say.

"I've had a rocky relationship with Maylene in the past." Because of my own mistakes, which I wasn't allowed to say. They shouldn't have—shouldn't have been looking at me like we were somehow equally at fault. I swallowed the bile at the back of my throat. "Obviously people aren't blind," I forced myself to laugh. "We've gotten closer recently, but I'd like to keep that private."

The girl looked a little unsatisfied with that answer, but she sat back down after thanking me for my time. The interview continued in earnest for another fifteen minutes until I was finally freed, and I met Melody and the rest of my crew out of the SNN's Jubilife studio lobby. It wasn't as expansive as the SGNC's, especially when Jubilife was a lot more expensive. The SNN lobby was smaller and more straightforward, with clean lines, glass walls, and a few plants for decoration. It felt efficient but a little cramped—nothing like the wide halls and Magikarp pond of the SGNC in Veilstone. From her slightly crooked smile and quiet cheers from her colleagues, I knew I had done okay. It wasn't until we got back in one of the cars that Melody found it fit to speak to me in detail.

"You did a good job out there. Some hiccups, especially near the end, but overall it was a great interview. Paloma will be pleased, I bet." Melody looked in the rearview mirror directly at me. "Grace. Sit up and put your seatbelt on."

Maybe I'd lied down in the back of the car and curled up to ready myself to go to sleep. Just maybe.

"If there's a car accident, Buddy will keep me alive. Uh, I mean us alive. Probably," I quietly spoke with a sigh. I felt the water type rumble against my skin, telling me to put the damn seatbelt on. "Fine. But you're like a warm blanket, so you really aren't helping."

"Don't make him get out in the car!" Melody nearly shrieked.

"I won't! Arceus, relax."

Sitting up was tougher than I'd expected. I had to slowly push myself off the seat and blink away the tiredness. The moment my head hit a pillow, I'd be out like a light. My teeth chattered a little bit—that was a really bad expression for me to use these days.

"I can't believe you had your Jellicent there during the interview," Melody exhaled, her hand tapping the steering wheel. She was a little like my dad when she drived. "Well—I can believe it. As long as he's well hidden, I guess it's fine."

One of my fingers tapped my necklace, and Mimi dripped down, pooling onto my lap. I gave the steel type a gentle smile. "Thanks for helping me out there."

Their eye turned into a smug 'U' and they chimed.

"I don't have any snacks on me. Wait until we get home—I'll get you the rusted scrap you like." They didn't really like the taste as much as they liked purifying the metal and cleansing the rust.

"You had your tetanus shot, right?" Melody asked with a hint of worry.

"Yeah. I mean, it's in the vaccines they make you take when you sign up to be a trainer." I'd heard Unova had more on the list I would need to get. Back in the day, that would have terrified me, but today it was just a needle.

Melody continued speaking about the areas I could improve in while I distracted myself with my phone. There were texts from Denzel and Pauline—I had a pretty long conversation with the former about interviews and how he'd bring me on one of his streams again when I felt ready. He even made fun of how stiff I was for the first few minutes of the show. It was… good that he was comfortable enough to go back to that. There was also Jess and Marley, my parents, Bobby and Ramon—hell, even Jasmine, though her text was less about the interview and more about the stuff I had sent her about acting. As it turned out, that was out of her area of expertise, but she was interested in what I had prepared.

She said she might be able to make time for one training session for me to prepare against Byron. Normally, I would have been against this, wanting to do everything myself, but the stakes were just too high for me to refuse.

As I'd said before, it wasn't just about a badge.

Maymay 3 - Good job today! U gave some great answers

I sent her a sticker of a Pikachu holding a heart.

You - I tried my best, thank you. Was the answer about us fine?

I'd been typing an entire essay about the reasons why I'd answered that way—a combination of me being deathly terrified that I'd overstep boundaries and go too fast if I put a label on us and Poketch wanting at least a little bit of a delay before I confirmed anything despite the fact that people basically knew already, but—

Maymay 3 - It was! Jsut take ur time. I can wait, ur worth it

I sent her an 'I love you' and clutched my phone against my chest.

"It's hard work, isn't it?" Melody said all of a sudden. "All of this."

"It is," I agreed.

It took a lot of effort to have your story told, I was finding out.

—

Twinleaf was quiet at this time of day—

Actually, Twinleaf was always quiet. It was just what I needed after how hectic the last few days had been. Relaxing in the quiet lakeside town would also help me get ready for my date in Veilstone tonight. Poketch's rhythm had infected every aspect of my life, including my sleep schedule (not that I slept very much), so I'd spent the first few hours of the morning flying south from Jubilife and seeing my mother for the first time since I realized I was cheating. She had acted like nothing was wrong, given me a wonderful smile and hug that exuded warmth as she always did. Yet there was a gaping emptiness between us—the chasm always left by words left unsaid.

I needed to talk to her. Not next week, not tomorrow, but today.

But for now;

"You're doing it all wrong!" I gently scolded Sweetheart. The enormous mass of shifting stone plates stared at me, her eyes furious at my eighth rebuttal of her performance. "No yelling," I firmly added. The last thing I wanted was to scare the neighbors, and Denzel's parents were back in Twinleaf for the time being. Even from afar, I could see shifting behind curtains.

"You can't have Sunshine's role," I said. "Be happy I haven't given you Buddy's or Angel's!" I patted her arm, standing on my tiptoes. She growled at me and angrily glared at Turtonator, who was working together closely with Princess around a hundred feet away. All of my Pokemon were out, but I was spending the most time with her. "Come on, baby. I know it's tough, but you can do it."

It was difficult for Sweetie to be anything but an excited toddler or a violent beast. The silence and solemnity I would demand of her didn't come easy. It wasn't that her acting was bad—all of my Pokemon's acting was currently bad save for Cass and Buddy. Expecting them to be professionals when they didn't even have a month of training would be asking for the impossible. It was that after a while, she just lost focus and got bored of making faces and practicing attacks with the right… attitude. We were telling a specific tale that was meant to flow like water; it would completely break immersion if she got too excited during the fight and couldn't conceal her excitement at fighting an actually fun fight after so long.

Granted, she had fought a decent amount lately, most recently another kid with seven badges who had challenged me, but it wasn't the kind of fight that got your blood pumping—if I even was capable of feeling that. I always kept these battles to one on ones because I couldn't afford to have a huge chunk of my team in the Pokemon Center at a time when I had so few days. He had been very confused when I'd looked frustrated after winning—it reminded me of the Solaceon Tournament days before everything had gone to shit.

"Why don't we do this." I stepped around her, jumping over her tail and climbed on top of her back, grabbing on each of the jagged spikes behind her until I could speak into her ear. She giggled at me, flashing sharp teeth the size of my face. She was still growing. "Emotions are a spectrum; they bleed into each other easily. There's a reason they say hate borders on the frontier of love. Sure, they're opposites, but the obsession needed for both is one and the same."

The rock type grunted, and I felt her entire body vibrate against me. She asked if that meant she could be more herself.

"Not exactly," I said. "But ideally, you'll represent an element of transition between two states of mind." It would either be her, Honey or Angel. The thing about turning battles into stories out of my own volition was that it was so difficult. Battles had so many variables that every Pokemon needed to be ready to act out different scenarios just in case things didn't line up correctly. Save for Sunshine—and Sweetheart because I knew she wouldn't be able to handle two of these quite yet—all of my Pokemon were working on two to three roles that would need to lead not perfectly, but at least well into each other depending on how the fight went. "That means that you aren't a static character."

I saw her eyes squint in confusion.

"Like Sunshine, you're going to change during the battle—that's called character development. Slowly but surely, you'll become someone else." I explained my plan, and her mouth slowly spread into a toothy grin. "That feel better to you?"

Sweetheart gave me an exaggerated nod and thanked me.

"See? Compromise feels nice, doesn't it?"

She began her work earnestly again. It was interesting to see what kind of actors my Pokemon were. There were method actors like myself, who with prep work and mental exercises became someone else like Buddy. Classical acting with exaggerated gestures, laughs and voices, like Cassianus or Princess. Those who enjoyed improv and essentially winged it like Honey and Angel, or Pokemon who just stayed true to themselves and tried their best like Sunshine and Sweetheart…

The truth of the matter was, so long as it worked, so long as things stayed cohesive and I succeeded in making this fight the match box upon which I would be able to strike myself, then I'd achieve everything I wanted.

I just hoped I hadn't bitten off more than I could chew.

Once I was sure Sweetheart was on a good path, I sent her over to Buddy and promised that I'd go and buy her steak she'd eat before heading to Veilstone this evening. Everyone was working well—it was a thing of beauty, like watching a bunch of cogs help each other spin. The only one who needed to pick up the slack was me.

But right now, I needed to talk to mom.

"Hey."

My mother sat on the couch in front of the small TV with a book about home decoration. Herdier was lying next to her with his head on her lap, his body rising and lowering with each calm breath and his eyes half-shut. It was a lazy week-end in a sleepy town. Honestly speaking, I'd for sure go for a nap right now if I could afford to waste the time. I was jealous about many things Pokemon had, but their energy was probably near the top of that list.

"Grace." Mom smiled at me and placed her book next to her. "How's your training doing, sweetie?"

"Pretty good, all things considered. Could be going a lot worse." I took a few steps forward. "Can I, uh, sit? So we can talk?"

Her smile didn't fall, but it did falter. A simple twitch at the corner of her mouth followed by an unnatural stretch to put it back where it was, but it simply wasn't. It went too far. Not ideal, really. "Always."

"I can tell you're expecting the worst! You shouldn't be," I said. "I just want to talk about a few things." The usual comfort found within a couch was nowhere to be found when I sat. I glanced toward my mother, who I had only seen this nervous a few times. Usually, always when she thought our relationship hung in the balance of a single conversation like when we reunited in Twinleaf or in Veilstone. "I'm not gonna ghost you again."

She let out a nervous laugh. "I know."

There was this thing with her, I noticed. She wanted to stay positive around others and hide away her pain. It was why I'd rarely seen her grieve her own mother save for the first few days after I'd come back from Coronet, or why the last time I'd asked her about it she had only answered with 'I'll be fine, don't worry about me.'

"You were worried!" I pressed. "Because I didn't text you much. I needed space to just digest everything, so…"

She cleared her throat and ran her fingers through Herdier's fur. "And have you? Digested everything, I mean."

Would I ever untangle the mess of a person that I was? Maybe not ever, but at least I had come to terms with my actions and what had happened with Maylene and Cecilia.

I gave her a nod. "I guess I should start with—with an apology. I'm sorry I kind of dropped off the face of the earth recently, and I'm sorry I lied to you about Maylene. It wasn't… an intentional lie, but it was a lie. I wanted to hide myself from the truth that I'd fallen in love with someone else."

Mom grabbed my hand and squeezed. "Thank you."

"Can we talk about my—my childhood for a bit?"

"Of course, Grace."

"Okay. I guess… well it wasn't too bad, but it was kind of empty before I got Princess?" I tried to look out the window for her, but she was too far away for me to see. Instead, I saw Honey and Angel throwing Mimi between each other like the steel type was some kind of ball. Slackers, I thought with a slight smirk. "I dunno. For a while dad just worked long hours. I'd hear about promotions or whatever, and we'd move to a better apartment, but I don't remember much. At some point his eyes got brighter again and he started taking me somewhere most weekends. Eating out, bowling, the movies, watching battles—it was fun, but there was something missing."

"Me," she guessed.

"I'd see moms pick up their kids in a car after school while I had to take the bus because dad was working. I'd hear girls complain about how annoying their mom was or just talk about them sometimes. I'd see mothers taking their kids to their Little League battling club or football practice or whatever. And you know, it wasn't—it wasn't a big deal, you know?" I was far from the only kid who grew up without a mom. It was far from a unique circumstance to be in. "But it wasn't nothing, either. It was something. It was an itch. There was a certain uncomfortableness to it that I tried to hide by hating you instead."

It wasn't like she hadn't done anything deserving of scorn. But I'd done it too, now. I put myself through what she'd done and I could understand far better than I ever thought I would. Not condone it, never that, but understand. And while dad had told me I could see her whenever I wanted from the getgo, I kept saying no and making up my own image of her in my head. Because it was easier to hate than to confront the reality. Easier to hate a fake when you were so deathly afraid that you would also hate the real person and that you truly, truly would never have a mother to hold you in her arms.

"I could have kept trying to contact you," she said, hand squeezing tightly. "At some point I just gave up trying as hard. It just hurt every time no answers came. Every time Arthur said you didn't want to talk. And he—he just has this way of talking to you that makes you so sorry for disappointing him that he hadn't lost then and still hasn't lost now."

Ah. The tone.

"The point is—I don't know. I don't even know if there is a point to any of what I'm saying, which is rare for me." My foot tapped anxiously against the floorboards. "I'm a lot. I'm just a lot. And I think I put you as the blame of everything wrong in my life before I became a trainer. Why dad looked so broken when he thought I wasn't looking, and how I felt like he had to force himself to take me out. Why I had no friends. Why I couldn't get interested in anything like clubs at school. Why I just felt like going straight home every time the bell rang and I kept denying invitations until they just stopped coming. Why I was just lost in life like a fleck of dust drifting in the wind."

My mother sniffled—she cried very easily, as did I. "I was the cause."

"Maybe. But then it's like, for how many years can I keep blaming you for everything wrong with me, you know? Like… I can't just put that on you. I could have done more, but it took dad getting me a Togepi and basically lighting a fire under my ass—butt—crap, sorry."

Her laughter broke the tension. "You can swear, Grace. I'm not going to get on your case with that."

"Dad doesn't like it. But I guess you aren't dad." I could almost hear him yelling language from the other side of the room.

"You've sworn in front of me before."

"Did I? I completely forgot," I chuckled. "Uh. Anyway, I don't know. I just… wasn't doing much of anything until dad forced me to go on the Circuit. God, he was so happy when I brought Denzel back." He had tried to hide it by being mad I had just forced him to accept Denzel would be staying with us—and to be fair, he was plenty angry—but he had accepted without much of a fight because it had literally never happened before. I'd just never brought a friend home. "There's no… no grand ending to this vent, I guess. No way to neatly tie it all together. I'm just… I've been wanting to talk to you about it."

"We can talk all you want," she said, pulling me close and kissing the side of my head.

"Cool." I tried ignoring how fuzzy my chest felt. "I have a lot of time until my date tonight."

"Ah, this Maylene!" mom said. "You know, she came into our house and I expected her to be… this figure grander than life, but I realized pretty soon that she's just a kid like you." We both laughed at that, and I teased her for having been so nervous she'd literally rearranged the entire living room. "Tell me about her?"

"Sure!"

Once I started, it was nearly impossible for me to stop.

Mom came to regret it as the minutes passed by the dozens.

—

The grocery store was cold and empty like the hearth that was my spirit, an extinguished flame that had died long, long ago. The frigid air from the freezers washed over me in waves determined to keep me down, keeping my body lifeless and broken. To keep me dark and quiet, with only faint echoing whispers from eons ago hinting of the girl I used to be. Passionate. Driven. Ardent. My fingers grazed the cold glass, carrying with it air that was apathy distilled down to its very essence, making its way into my lungs with every breath. Each inhale stung, the cold air settling deep in my chest like shards of ice.

"That is your idea of me." Each word was like pushing against a mountain. The eyes staring back at me—my dear reflection—were as dead as they could be. There was empty, and then there was empty. The death of an idea, the end of the light in my gaze. "The whispers are here for a reason, aren't they?"

I was my worst enemy. The cold was heavy, smothering ambition in its crib, but fire could be born from nothing. A single spark, swallowing all of the oxygen for miles and miles. It burned so hot, yet went out so fast. It had gone out within me, too. Flame demanded sacrifice, and I was not sure I had anything left to give.

But.

All you needed was a breath—a moment, a chance—for the spark to catch again. Just one flicker of courage, of will, to set it all ablaze. I could feel it, faint and trembling, like a heartbeat just beneath the surface—

"Hey."

The world brightened, and I became someone else. No, I turned back to my true self.

Maylene gently booped my nose with a flicker of amusement. "Take a break. You can't be training all the time; I sent you here to get some vegetables!" There were plenty of groceries in the cart she was pushing. Soy sauce, garlic, fresh ginger, sesame oil, water—

Oh.

Right. We were in a grocery store because we were grocery shopping.

I smiled. "Sorry. I'm trying to find a thread—really, it's like spinning yarn until you finally get something that lasts. I was getting really into this one." I noticed a few people looking at me weird as they passed by. By now, the emotions clouding my mind from acting were nearly all gone. "Uh, so what was I supposed to get again?" I glanced at the refrigeration unit.

Smiling, Maylene shook her head with an exasperated sigh. "Broccoli and carrots. You had, like, the easiest job."

"Sorry," I said.

Maylene grabbed my hand. "It's okay. It's why I love you," she said, sending my heart into a frenzy. "I've got these." She opened the freezer and grabbed a packet of frozen carrots and broccoli. "Could have gotten them fresh, but this is easier and cheaper."

"I'm surprised people here don't even spare you a glance." In the ten minutes or so we'd been here, no one had even tried to accost Maylene besides a small kid who had vowed that he would be a fighting type specialist just like her one day. His dad had embarrassingly apologized for the bother, but Maylene made sure to talk to him for a few minutes at least. I had steered clear, unwilling to repeat the many incidents I'd had with kids back in Twinleaf for Renewal Day. Maybe I'd ask her about it. "I thought you'd get more… fanfare."

"They're used to seeing me here," she said. "I come by at least once every few weeks to buy stuff in bulk for meal prep. I'm actually here earlier than planned because of this." She nudged her head at the cart.

That made sense. This was the closest grocery store to the Gym, and it was the same I'd seen Candice in back when I'd been consumed by the want to apologize to Maylene. Legendaries time sure flew by fast. It was nice and quiet, though. Peaceful enough not to make my hearing aid flare up and destroy my ear like it sometimes did in crowds that got too loud. Plus—

Mimi warbled, like the sound of scrap metal falling on the ground, and I had to once again tell them to sit still on my head.

"Wait! Don't change the subject," she caught on. "I'm serious; you've been working too hard."

"Not that hard," I grumbled. She put the carrots and broccoli packages in the cart, and I followed her deeper into the store. "It's just… putting myself into a different mindset. I get really focused and I lose track of where I am sometimes, but it's not, like, exhausting."

"You train all the time, and you've got your Poketch stuff, so you have zero free time. Then, even outside of training when you should be taking time for yourself, you keep prac—you keep doing this."

"Well, there's not a lot of time," I said. "And you saying that is kind of funny. I literally have to call you so you remember to eat on time."

"That's—fair," she had to admit. "I'm just worried about you. I just don't want you to burn out. You went from zero to a hundred pretty quickly."

I leaned against her, head lying on her shoulder. The sleeve of her t-shirt felt so comfortable. "Come on, I wasn't at zero." It was true that before Poketch had forced me to get active, I hadn't been doing much, but… "I was still doing stuff."

"I'll give you ten."

"Twenty!" The edge of her breath brushed against my head as she laughed, and my knuckles bumped against her hand. I wanted to hold her so bad—these little touches and grazes constantly kept me at attention.

"I'll give you twenty," she relented near the end of her laughter. "The point still applies! No more acting tonight; we have a date." The telling smirk on Maylene's face let me know that a jab was coming. "Also, it'd be awful if you got in the zone and messed up dinner. I mean, I'd make fun of you—"

I pulled my tongue out at her. "Careful. I could always poison your dinner tonight."

"Meh. I could take it."

"Tofu with a hefty dose of Buddy's Poison Sting sound good to you?"

"Maybe if it comes from you."

"Ugh. Stop sweet-talking me," I said, unable to the pull on the edge of my lips.

"I can't be bantering every time. I gotta keep you on your toes," she said. I stopped sticking to her not to encroach on the Small Touches clause, and she perked up. "Hey, since we're already here, I might as well keep buying stuff so I don't have to go again until the Conference. You don't mind?" I shook my head. "Cool. What about you, Mimi?"

The steel type chimed happily, wriggling on top of my head. We continued talking about anything that came to mind as Maylene gathered the stuff she usually had someone make for her—chicken, oats, yogurt, avocado, fish, nuts—I made sure to make a mental note of it all. Mostly, I just let her rant about nutrition and asked her questions about it because I knew she loved to talk my ear off about how I needed a good diet if I was going to live a long life. Somehow, that got me to bring up my research about method acting again and living through a character's head.

"When you found me in the frozen aisle again, was I convincing?" I asked.

"Scary convincing." We were making our way to the last thing Maylene needed now—oranges that she pressed to make juice in the mornings. She was a lot better at picking the best fruit, so I just held the plastic bag open for her. "My brain actually started panicking a little before I remembered it was probably just you acting again."

"I mean—it's kind of intuitive to me. I'm not becoming someone else—I'm not good enough for that yet. Just finding a facet of myself to give everything to."

"Hm. That's pretty scary, honestly." She paused. "Make a face at me. An angry one," Maylene asked. I tied the plastic bag and put it in the cart, which was now so full I'd find it difficult to push around if she wasn't there. Once finished, I made an angry, pouty face at her. "Ah," she sighed with a hand over her mouth. "That's so cute."

"Hey!"

"What? You are!"

"Don't make me do the killing eyes at you," I threatened. She squirmed in place as if her whole body was tied down.

"Don't call them killing eyes."

"That's literally what they are."

"They're battling eyes. Completely different."

They made her feel good regardless of what she wanted to call them. "Anyway! I need at least a good minute to get into the mindset. Ten is ideal, really. Maybe I'll need more against Byron," I explained as we made our way toward the checkout line.

"Uh, and this is how you're going to be fighting in every battle?" Maylene asked.

"Maybe not every, but like, ninety percent of them? Actually, scratch that number. All of the ones that matter, at least," I said, feeling my heartbeat quicken with anxiety. "Why? I mean, I know I tend to get lost in stories, but I—I've been getting better—I wouldn't make a mistake or seriously injure someone or kill—"

"No, no!" Immediately, she grabbed my hand and let her warmth diffuse through me. Sparks of blue light diffused through her palm. "Arceus, I'm sorry. I don't mean that; I was genuinely wondering for—well, never mind. Just—you're okay. I didn't mean anything by it."

I took a deep breath. "I'm okay. God, it's been a while, huh?"

"Yeah. Let's make the next streak two whole days; I'm sorry for breaking it."

"Sorry enough to let me cook something for you once a week?" I wriggled my eyebrows at her.

"You sure recover quickly now," she noted. "Maybe! We'll see…" I made puppy eyes at her, and her eye twitched. "Uh, sure. But only when the Conference starts and we're at the League."

I made a little choking sound, part disappointment, part confusion. "Hey."

"Hm?" She started putting our items on the belt, and a slightly wide-eyed clerk scanned each item, glancing at her every few seconds. She must have been new here. "What's up?"

"Sorry if I'm stepping over the line here, but—is there, like… a reason beyond my issues you don't want me to cook for you?" Maylene blinked a few times, her movements growing slightly slow. "I mean, I kind of noticed," I added. "Like, back before we were… trying things out, you'd refuse a lot of things. Like buying you things, or me wanting to bring you somewhere. That's all changed, but the food stuff hasn't."

She raised her hand, signaling me to wait until we were out of such a public spot. I felt a little ashamed of how much I enjoyed looking at her flexed arms with four bags balanced on each forearm. The subtle definition of the little amount of strain Maylene needed to carry such weight. Usually, I'd just ogle her without a second thought, but the coming topic would probably be hard on her, so I shut my eyes and willed myself to glance up at her face.

"Not too heavy?" she asked, looking at the one bag I was carrying. We could have Teleported back to her Gym instead of walking back, but it was the little moments like these that were everything. Plus, Maylene loved Veilstone. She enjoyed watching the people go out and about, because it gave her job meaning it wouldn't have if she spent her time Teleporting between her Gym and wherever she needed to go.

"Come on. I'm not that weak."

"Grace, I saw you struggle to open a juice bottle last week."

I ignored her totally hurtful but admittedly truthful jab. "So? The food thing?"

"It's just… I don't know. It feels like breaking my routine. That's scary." Her tone was pointed and short, and her usual air of confidence was gone, leaving only a certain smallness to her that was rarely seen. "For as long as I can remember, I've been on this program. I eat the same stuff every week. On monday, it's yogurt and oats for breakfast; chicken and steamed vegetables for lunch…" she went on and listed her entire schedule which she had committed to memory.

Every day.

Every week.

Every month.

For years.

It was the exact same thing. How fucking dull was that? Nothing to look forward to, nothing to savor—just the endless repetition of what she had to eat to stay as healthy as possible. No exceptions, no cakes on her birthdays, no ice cream, no sweets, no pizza, nothing. Eating for the sake of honing your physique was fine, but this was torture. Even the tofu I was making today was just her Wednesday dinner moved to Sunday!

Admittedly, that last fact hurt me a little. I thought I'd been making something she genuinely loved, not her favorite thing she picked off her rigid meal plan! But I also knew from the way she looked and acted that this was a difficult topic for her. Maylene would definitely focus on me if I showed any signs of weakness out of genuine worry, and she'd gotten good at spotting those. I'd keep my complaints for later tonight when things were stable and calmer.

"Maylene. Have you ever eaten something for fun?"

She balked at me, her eyes narrowing as if I were crazy. "For fun?"

"Yeah! Because it's tasty?"

"Food's not meant to taste good; it's fuel," she said, and I could tell she was parroting something her father had imparted upon her. "I'll be fine. It's honestly not bad—you shouldn't make it into this whole thing."

"I'm not. I'm just saying that… an exception once in a while would do you some good?" I tried. "Is—is this something Oscar did, or—"

"It was! But it's also me," she cut me off. Her pace quickened slightly, and she nearly left me behind before she realized she walked too fast for me to keep up. "Sorry."

"I don't mind. Just—give it some thought, maybe?"

Her lips flattened, and her brows creased into a pensive frown. "Okay."

"Promise?"

Now, she winced. She knew I had her. "Yeah."

"Say it out loud, or it might as well be smoke and ash. You've got to speak it out into the world."

"I promise that I'll give it some thought."

Beaming and yelling out a joyous "Yay!" I grabbed onto her arm—which was awkward with all of the grocery bags she had with her—and hummed.

"What are you, an extra bag?" she teased.

"A bag that loves you very much, maybe." There was a short pause as we waited for a light to turn green to cross the street. "Hey, random question. When you talk to a kid, how do you… like, what's your angle of approach so they don't end up scared of you? Your plan?"

Maylene clearly held back a laugh; her eyes diffused pure unabated joy, and she dragged me close into a quick hug—quick, not because of the contract, but because she got embarrassed about physical contact in public. Even holding hands. It was mostly fine when I was the one initiating, but she rarely did the same except when I was visibly distressed and needed reassurance. The plastic of the bags touched my back and was generally weird, but the warmth and love seeping from her skin made up for it.

Maylene was a blushing mess when she was done with the hug. She pulled a strand of hair down her forehead and fiddled with it, using the bags to hide parts of her face. If she'd tried saying anything, she'd be sputtering out nonsense.

I still had two kisses left, but—

Not yet.

She was just so cute about touching!

—

"So? How is it?"

I eagerly leaned forward on the table as Maylene pinched another piece of tofu dripping with sauce in between her chopsticks. Honey was to the side, staring as intensely at her as he would look an opponent in the eye during a fight—had he gotten that from me? Maylene let it sit inside her mouth for a second before she chewed. She knew she held our attention in the palm of her hands, that little scoundrel, because she smugly looked at the two of us and stayed quiet for as long as possible.

We could have tasted our portions first, but it wouldn't have been proper. I'd never had tofu before and I'd followed the recipe to the letter in hopes of impressing her, but…

"It's good!" Maylene finally said.

I deflated. "Just good?"

Honey instantly dug into his own meal, which looked way too small for his size because of the size of the bowl.

"Come on." Maylene pointed her chopsticks at me. "Yeah, it's good. But if I acted out and pretended like it was the best thing in the world, you'd see right through me, wouldn't you?"

"I probably would. Is it—better than what you usually get?"

"...yes?"

"What was that about not lying?" I exclaimed. I shoved a piece of tofu in my mouth with quinoa and… the taste was okay, but the texture felt wrong? The quinoa and the sauce were pretty good, at least, but the tofu was too rubbery. "Oh. Yeah, that's pretty meh. Not even good, really. Sorry, Maylene."

Honey nodded with a slightly apologetic grunt, saying that it was our first time cooking that type of food and that we'd do better the next. He had already inhaled all of it, though, unwilling to let his own cooking go to waste or to be given to someone else.

"No, it's genuinely good! I think it's because I looked at how hard you worked when you made it?" she said, taking another bite. With a mouth full, she added, "I can tell it came from the heart. I'd eat buckets of these."

"So I can cook more for you? Uh, sometimes we," I said, glancing up at Honey. The electric type gave me a hearty thumbs up. "You have quinoa stuck in your teeth." His smile fell, and his tails curled up in embarrassment. A tiny whir came up his throat.

"Sure! You know what, whenever you come over or there's an opportunity to, you can make us something. And hell, I don't want to make you do everything. I could help eventually; I never learned how to cook."

"Actually, on that topic. You kind of hurt me today."

Her face fell. "Oh. What did I say?"

Once I explained to her that I thought tonight would be unique and not just some other routine meal she always ate, she digested my words for a few seconds in silence, twirling her chopsticks in her bowl in what I assumed was a way to assuage her anxiety.

"I can see how—" she stopped herself. "Yeah, I'm sorry, Grace. I didn't think of it that way."

"It's okay. I mean, it was technically your favorite meal, even if we botched it." We both chuckled at that. "Just… you kind of sold it as something… not routine? And I felt a little blindsided."

"I totally get you—I won't do it again."

Wow.

That was so easy. The sliver of anxiety I'd felt at her potential reaction fizzled out into the wind, and I took another bite of this horrible tofu.

"Wanna watch a movie or something when we're done? I need one where there's a character who's lost their drive so I can learn," I said.

"I can call Candice. She'd be the one to know one of those," Maylene said. "I'm surprised you don't, actually."

An amused scoff left my throat. "I haven't been regularly watching movies in like a year, and those were never my type."

"Sounds like excuses to me."

"Don't make me come over there," I warned.

"Don't make me come over there," she mimicked in a mocking drawl. "What're you gonna do about it anyway?"

My hand twitched against the table, and she froze—unfortunately, Honey cleared his throat to remind us of his presence, and the moment was gone. We finished dinner and put our dishes in the wash before Maylene went and grabbed a big blanket from her bedroom and I called Candice for movie suggestions.

"Uh. I guess I can give you one or two names off the top of my head," the ice type Gym Leader said. "Uh, A Star is Born, Flyingman, Unovan Beauty—"

"A Star is Born?!" I yelled. "I'm picking that one!"

"Damn. I was gonna list off more—"

"Thanks, Candice. I really appreciate it!"

"Grace, I think you're probably misunderstanding the point of the movie…"

That title was too perfect not to pick it. I ignored Candice's jokes about 'keeping my hands off her sister' and hung up when she ran out of steam. It was date night, so for Honey, it was back into his Pokeball, and Mimi was already asleep as a loose bracelet around my wrist from all the excitement of the grocery store. Now that I was in a better place mentally, I'd better show them more new things. Like… bowling, maybe. They'd probably get a kick out of that and it'd make a good date, even if it was kind of soured by being Cece and I's first.

My Streamix account was already hooked up to her TV from a previous date, so getting the movie was simply a matter of finding it on the list. It felt good to be cuddling with Maylene under the blanket. I was mostly clinging to her under there, tucked into her warmth like I was trying to absorb it while she whined about my cold feet even though I knew for a fact they didn't bother her. I was curled into her side, my arms wrapped tightly around her waist as if I could hold on forever. My head rested on her chest, tucked beneath her chin, and I could feel the steady rhythm of her breathing, the rise and fall of her body, and the subtle drum of her heartbeat. Maylene held me with a firm yet gentle grip, her arm wrapped securely around my shoulders, fingers resting lightly on my upper back. Occasionally, she'd play with my hair a little—she could go all out now that we were alone.

It was explicitly allowed in the contract, too, just not every time we saw each other, and there was an opportunity. There was a difference between this and practice. Practice was—intense. And harsh. And…

Well, better not think about that right now.

Tonight was just a lovely experience. One of the things that just made everything worth it was having a partner to rely on at the end of the day. One you could say anything to, really. That was the difference between this and Cece, even if I still missed her so, so dearly and it hurt to remember her. It was also comfortable with Cecilia, just like it was now, but maybe too comfortable. My eyes shut for an instant as I recalibrated my mood. This was date night; there was no use crying about a love I'd—we had ruined. Plus, Mesprit always complained when my mood got in the way of movies.

The past was the past. The present was what needed to matter.

So—the movie. It wasn't what I expected.

It was… really depressing?

It followed Stella, an aspiring coordinator working a dead-end job in Floaroma, who was discovered by Eric, a once-legendary Pokemon trainer ala Craig whose career was fading due to the death of his Staraptor. He spotted her during one of her routine practices after work and was instantly grabbed by her potential. He mentored her as they traveled from city to city, helping her hone her skills and guiding her rise to stardom.

Ironic, considering he was trainer and she was coordinator, but nowhere was it written that they weren't allowed to help each other.

Stella's fame grew, but Eric struggled with his own declining relevance. Stella's success culminated in her reaching the top of the contest scene in a single year, while her mentor, though proud of her achievements, accepted that his time in the spotlight was over, finding peace in passing the torch to a new star.

It—kind of made me tear up, really, even if I'd gotten a lot of good information on how to behave myself if I were to be a fading star. I really thought he'd use her intricate knowledge of TE that quickly surpassed his to reignite his passion for battling, and he tried, but there was just nothing.

For my acting, I had the body language down but not the voice he'd used. The desperation had been there, but it needed a mixture of agony and vapidness that I hadn't owned quite yet. Not only that, but the way his Pokemon acted would be of great help to some in my own team; I would need to get them to watch this tonight when I got back to my mom's. She had a projector I'd be able to use outside.

The movie just hit all the right notes to get to me—Eric's story ended, and he instead used the last bits of himself that could be lit to fuel another.

I needed to stare that fate in the eye and deny it with my full chest. To prepare my utmost to rage against it, I had to gather every ounce of strength and passion that remained within me.

The next battle would either be my firestarter or the final ember snuffed out.

"I didn't think we'd actually get one that made you cry," Maylene muttered. "You were so quiet."

"I was studying."

"I can tell it got to you. Sensitive subject—I can't believe Candice suggested this! She knows you well enough to—"

"I might have gotten too excited at the significance of the title to listen."

After a short lapse of realization, she breathed out a laugh and kissed my forehead. "Dummy. Need any tissues?"

There was a slight buzz where she'd kissed me. The lingering shape of her lips branded onto me. "Let me use you as a bed."

"I'm pretty sure that goes against Cuddle Time's rules."

Rules could be bent quite easily with the right words, especially when the language we'd used in that section of the contract was so vague, but I nodded and remained against her for the time being as we watched the credits roll. We had a good laugh at the after-credit scenes that had Stella and Eric bond over funny moments in their lives past the movie's plot.

Maylene's head turned toward me. "Sad or not, that was really good. Candice knows what she's talking about—"

I lunged in and kissed her.

Sometimes, she was too irresistible to ignore—especially after she'd gone in with that forehead kiss. I smirked when she got a little red and struggled to find her words for a few moments.

"I—um, that—was nice—"

And another—my last one, just to catch her off guard again. I made sure this one was extra long, skirting right below the usual time limit, and had my hands wrapped around her under her shirt with my nails slightly digging into her back just like I knew she liked. My lips twisted into another smirk as I licked them as soon as they parted.

"I get it!" she mumbled, slightly breathless as her lips struggled not to quirk into a dumb grin. "Legendaries." She looked a little cornered on the couch, given I was kind of crawling on top of her. Her stomach peeked under her shirt, and there was a perpetual tug of war in my eyes to either look at her mouth and face or her tummy or her arms or her legs or her—maybe everywhere, actually.

"Maymay. We need to figure out the Making Out Clause soon," I simply said.

"...yeah."

I'd said that we'd take it slow and that we wouldn't have a moment like our first kiss again for a while, but by every Legendary, holding back was tough. Thankfully Cuddle Time was over now that the movie or whatever activity we were doing was as well, so I wouldn't have to worry about going too fast and making a mistake. There was only around twenty minutes left in the date before she Teleported me back to Jubilife, so things winded down and I just did by obligatory scrolling through Chatter to track what people were saying about me or to occasionally reply to a fan message Melody had approved and sent me via link. The algorithm had kind of filtered most things save for fan art or things Maylene's alts, Candice's alts, Gardenia, or Denzel retweeted out of my feed.

"Hey." Maylene straddled the backward-facing chair, her arms draped casually over the top of the backrest as she leaned in. "Are you ready to see Nia tomorrow afternoon?"

I raised an eyebrow and glanced up at her. "I think. I mean, Candice gave me some pointers that ended up being just be myself."

There was a nervous tint to her eyes. Gardenia was the person she was closest to; she most likely didn't want me to royally fuck up.

"Maymay, you being nervous is making me nervous too. I thought I'd worked through that stuff."

"Sorry!" she sputtered. "I'm sure you'll do great and have a great time."

"I hope so… I wonder if she could give me acting tips." Gardenia wasn't someone who became another during a fight, but her mastery of the human condition was second to none in this country. "Plus, knowing how others react to things would help me read the flow of a fight better. I still need to get better at body language." I could probably nab some advice from her depending on how things went—

"You'll be fine," Maylene repeated, almost as if to soothe herself. "Nia just needs to get to know you—the real you. I talk about you a lot, but she won't approve until you meet in person. It'd be really important to me for her to support us."

Okay, now I was really anxious. "I—I won't disappoint her. Do you have any pointers beyond 'be yourself' now I don't know if that'll be enough. Should I dress casual or fancy—"

A post caught my eye—and it made the fact that Cecilia Obel had been trending make a whole lot more sense. I'd tried to ignore, focusing instead on my job, but this was…

What was this? It was a video of her and Temperance Porter. I wanted to scroll past it—I wanted to. But the thumbnail had them so close. Temperance was looking at her with something in her eyes—admiration? Passion? Love? My thumb hung over the play button like a herald of death.

I pressed it.

"Grace?"

My volume was low enough not to hear what they were saying beyond a few words, but their body language told me all I needed to know even if the captions announcing Temperance's new girlfriend hadn't been there. They were dating. Dating. The idea didn't compute in my head, like I couldn't ever have imagined Cecilia with someone else. Had I ever seen her laugh or smile this much with me? Why did she look so happy? Temperance was—she must have been something else. Better than I was both in her career and looks. Her face was basically flawless as if she was made to be looked at. Not only that, but she was one of the best coordinators in the industry. She must have been used to life in high society, too; I bet they were a way better match than we ever were. She'd be good for Cecilia. Good. Good. I bet Unova would find it a lot more palatable, which went hand in hand with Cecilia's goals. Temperance was a better fit than a worthless monster like me could ever hope to be. If Cecilia hadn't met me—

The tears dripped down my cheeks and onto my lap. My phone fell face down on the floor.

Maylene hadn't understood. Not yet. But she hugged me anyway, staying quiet with her arms wrapped around me until I was well enough to speak between the sobs and the hiccups. It felt like Cecilia was breaking up with me all over again.

"What happened?" Maylene asked.

I wanted to brush it off and to say nothing, to act like I'd never found that post, but I had already told her I still had feelings. Lying would do us no good, especially when she wasn't stupid.

"Cecilia," I sniffled, "is dating someone else."

I wanted to call her and to say 'already?' To berate her for acting like I didn't exist. But I knew that would be the epitome of hypocrisy and made no sense coming from me. Maylene stayed quiet for a long while, allowing me to hold her back. How was she so nice to me all the time? Even when tears flowed down my face because of another girl, she just…

held onto me.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I know it probably hurts."

Ugh. I'd gotten tears and snot on her T-shirt. Maylene looked into my eyes and smiled. "I'm not gonna lie and say that I'm not at least a bit jealous," she whispered. "But I know it's tough for you. It really isn't about me."

"How is it not about you?" I cried out. "It's—we're… together, and I'm crying about Cecilia moving on! Like I'm—I'm sick," I slowly realized. "I would have felt better had she never gotten with someone else while I was enjoying myself with you! How awful is that?"

"I mean—Gardenia would have the answers. Not that you should tell her about this!" Maylene quickly added, her body tensing. "But I think that… I don't know, maybe it's normal? I already said that I don't expect you to move on that fast."

"Then why is she?" I asked.

"Maybe she isn't? Maybe she's like you—we won't know." Her hand gently rubbed my back. "Either way, it's… it's okay to feel things. Just—don't leave me?"

My eyes widened. It was a rare hint of insecurity from her, and her arms tightened around me.

I steeled myself. "I won't."

"Even in Unova?"

"Hmhm. I love you."

"...wanna stay an extra hour?" she asked, her voice meek. "We can talk some more. About happy stuff."

I smiled. "Yeah. Let me text my dad."

---

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[Soussouni]

Spoiler: Team

Togekiss/Princess (Hustle) - Pound, Sweet Kiss, Growl, Headbutt, Fairy Wind, Ancient Power, Extrasensory, Thunder Wave, Air Cutter, Wish, Psychic, Shadow Ball, Dazzling Gleam, Moonblast, Charge Beam, Air Slash, Mystical Fire, Tri-Attack, Nasty Plot, Defog

Jellicent/Buddy (Water Absorb) - Bubblebeam, Night Shade, Absorb, Water Sport, Water Pulse, Hex, Poison Sting, Mist, Acid Armor, Shadow Ball, Recover, Brine, Whirlpool, Hydro Pump, Water Spout, Acid, Will-O-Wisp, Ice Beam, Taunt, Scald, Boil, Freeze, Protect, Ice Blade, Rain Dance, Extrasensory

Electivire/Honey (Motor Drive) - Thundershock, Swift, Electric Swift, Thunder Punch, Charge, Leer, Ice Punch, Thunderbolt, Discharge, Fire Punch, Protect, Cross Chop, Thunder, Low-Kick, Screech, Radiant Leap, Static Shield, Bulldoze, Hammer Arm, Rain Dance, Lightning Bolt

Tangrowth/Angel (Chlorophyll) - Vine Whip, Absorb, Mega Drain, Stun Spore, Bind, Poison Powder, Leech Seed, Ancient Power, Power Whip, Knock Off, Sunny Day, Giga Drain, Sleep Powder, Solar Beam, Solar Blade, Brick Break, Ingrain, Bulldoze

Tyranitar/Sweetheart (Sand Stream) - Leer, Tackle, Horn Attack, Rock Throw, Payback, Stomping Tantrum, Smack Down, Bite, Rock Slide, Crunch, Sandstorm, Iron Defense, Dragon Pulse, Iron Head, Earthbreaker, Aerial Ace, Stone Edge, Dark Pulse, Rock Polish, Surf, Earthquake, Ice Fang, Flamethrower

Turtonator/Sunshine (Shell Armor) - Smog, Ember, Smokescreen, Incinerate, Iron Defense, Flamethrower, Shell Trap, Dragon Pulse, Bulldoze, Scorching Sands, Rock Tomb, Body Slam, Flash Cannon, Solar Beam, Rapid Spin, Scale Shot, Iron Tail, Focus Blast, Sunny Day, Fire Pillar, Flame Charge, Heat Crash, Fire Blast, Shell Smash

Claydol/Cassianus (Levitate) - Mud Slap, Rock Tomb, Rapid Spin, Harden, Confusion, Psychic, Barrier, Imprison, Wide Guard, Light Screen, Reflect, Ancient Power, Teleport, Earth Power, Sandstorm, Scorching Sands

Meltan/Mimi (???) - Not a battler

---

CHAPTER 335 - GENESIS

My fingers tingled as I sat on the Eterna City tram that would bring me to Gardenia's Gym. The most direct line still wasn't repaired from the bombs, so I'd needed to take a large detour. Flying there would have been quicker, but the long tram ride would give me what I needed: time to soothe my nerves by going over my plan—not that it was very detailed, anyway. Mental flowcharts would just get me in trouble and make Gardenia think I wasn't respecting her, or at least that's what I figured would happen. I mumbled under my breath, imagining the responses I would give to different questions. Just be yourself, they said, and yeah, that was a good idea in theory, but Maylene had put the fear of Arceus in me, and now I was terrified I wouldn't be enough. Did I have qualities I could push forward to make myself look better? I was supposed to spend the entire day with her; masking my flaws the whole time wasn't going to be possible for that long, especially when it was Gardenia we were talking about.

What was this, a job interview?

There was a trace of a smile pulling my lips upward. I just really wanted her to like me. Hell, I didn't even have Buddy on me today; it was just Mimi around my wrist. The steel type missed their usual companion.

I could see the Gym from the tram window—a large, open dome that allowed the sun to shine through its main battlefield. Back in the day, I'd sometimes see the weather change above it, be it an artificial sun or dense rain clouds pulling tightly together until they would pour onto the battlefield as rain. That had been Gardenia's strategy for low-level Gym Battles. Being able to transition between sun and rain throughout a battle and forcing trainers to adapt to not having control of the weather by either competing with her or working to pull a win another way.

"Now stopping: Eterna City Gym. Now stopping: Eterna City Gym."

Pushing past other people, I got off the tram, taking a deep breath as I stepped in front of the empty Gym courtyard. It doubled as another one of the city's countless green spaces and gardens, with numerous species of plants and trees giving ample shade from the scorching summer heat, but it was early in the morning, and people had few reasons to go to the one in front of a closed Gym. After messaging Maylene that I'd made it and clutching my phone against my chest once she'd texted me encouraging words, I hesitantly took step after step toward the wide front doors, rubbing a finger against Mimi's smooth form.

They vibrated back, and the sensation traveled up my arm and fingers.

Things were going to be fine.

Unlike Maylene or Candice's Gyms, I didn't have to knock or wave for someone in the lobby. I had arrived exactly on time at ten in the morning, and three League Trainers were already waiting for me. Two of them were raven-haired and short—ah, they were probably siblings now that I could get a better look at their faces. Maybe twins? They were just so similar it was like looking at two reflections. The final one was—

"Ah, Grace." The final one was named Roland, though according to Maylene, Gardenia and the people around the Gym always called him Roro. He was her right-hand man at the Gym. His pale skin was covered in freckles, including his hands. "You're as punctual as we were told you'd be."

"Come in, come in!" one of the other girls said. I could tell she was the kind of person who always brimmed with excitement, which looked like the polar opposite of her exhausted-looking sister. "Leader Gardenia's in her room doing some last-minute work while waiting!"

"Oh. I wouldn't want to bother her—"

"Nonsense!" she yelled over my voice, pulling me by the wrist. Her eyes widened slightly at the sight, and she pulled it closer to her face. "Oooh, nice bracelet. Is that real gold?"

I blinked at her, not knowing what to say. "Uh—"

"Shina, stop harassing our guest," her sibling said.

They kept bickering for a few seconds until Roland reigned them in, scolding them for being rude in front of me. He sent them off to help with some soil-enriching work upstairs, leaving only the two of us.

"Sorry about those two. I told Gardenia we should have sent someone else," he said with an apologetic smile—almost sheepish. "Any requests before I bring you to her?"

I discreetly bit my inner lip. Shina and that other girl—had that been a test? And the request? Was Gardenia trying to probe for flaws in how I'd react to her employees or what I would request? Maybe that was why she hadn't come to greet me. She was an analytical person, but was I looking too deep into it? Logic dictated that this way of thinking would be insane, but I did not think I could afford the risk—

"You okay?" Roland asked with a hint of worry.

Legendaries, what the hell was I doing? Just be normal!

"I'm fine. I think I'm ready." The nervous laugh that slipped through by the end of that sentence didn't help assuage Roland's apparent worries. "You—yeah, lead the way."

His brows creased. I was going to die.

Gardenia's Gym was much like Candice's: vast and open, with wide halls that invited the sun to pour in through tall glass windows. The light seemed to flow into every corner, casting patterns on the polished floors and giving the entire space a feeling of warmth that I felt struck by even in the midst of winter when the streets were laden with snow, and you could see your breath. It was also a lot less busy, but somehow more organized. Like every trainer knew their tasks and few moments were wasted—but I was too nervous to keep track of everything around me. Each step brought me closer to the woman who would… well, even if she disapproved of me, I didn't think it would sink my relationship, but it would certainly cast a heavy shadow over it.

And—to be honest?

It would just make me really happy to have her approval. Not only because Maylene was basically her little sister, but because I admired Gardenia a great deal.

The walk to Gardenia's room—the Solarium, as Roland called it—was quicker than I'd anticipated. A set of doors opened to reveal an inner chamber where an entire room made of glass stood beyond. From the outside, you could see lush greenery spilling from every corner, the space teeming with plants of all shapes and sizes. This was apparently where she lived. I'd find this place suffocating if I had to spend more than a few days here; it was basically Eterna Forest without the trees or the cold. While Gardenia herself was deeper in the Solarium, a wide-eyed Roserade drifted among the plants, watering some of them with a brilliant liquid that dripped from her blue bouquet. Life Dew, probably. She was so engrossed in her work that she hadn't even noticed us until Roland had to knock on the door repeatedly.

"Roserade will take you in. Gardenia's probably engrossed in knocking some redundancies out of Eterna City's budget." He laughed. "Trimming the fat out of it so we can save wherever we can." He paused for a moment. "Hey, can you do me a favor?" Roland turned toward me with an expectant stare.

"I can try. I mean, I'll do my best!"

"Nia's never had this much control over city policy before, and well—" his lips flattened, and he let out a little scoff. "She's someone who likes to have a lot of control over things, so she's been working hard. Juggling the city, the Gym, and her own personal projects with, uh, Candice."

Oh. He knew about them already; they weren't close friends without a reason. Or maybe best friends now that Candice had slid over to 'girlfriend.'

"Basically, this is a long-winded way of asking if you can try to make her have a good time today. The Gym will be fine without her for a few hours." He clapped my shoulder with a sliver of a smile while Roserade pushed the Solarium door open. "Hey, Rose. This is Grace."

The grass type made googly eyes at me, putting her hand forward. A strange, multicolored vine slid out of her flower and wrapped around my hand. I yelped, jumping a little at the sudden touch—it was warmer than I thought it'd be, almost like a surface left exposed to the summer heat for hours—and she shook my hand. Her voice when she said she'd heard of me was a little intense despite the quiet. She confirmed what Roland had said, that Gardenia was working to squeeze as much time in as she could before we could spend the day together. The difference was that Roserade clearly did not approve of this, but this wasn't a new phenomenon.

Roserade continued mouthing her own trainer off before she cut herself off and giggled. Her voice had a calming quality to it, soft and melodic, the kind of sound you could listen to for hours without ever growing tired of it. Her laugh was like the gentle rustle of leaves in a breeze. Familiar, soothing, and endlessly pleasant.

Okay, then. Time to face the music.

A breath to soothe my nerves.

A caress around my wrist from Mimi to make me feel loved.

The clenching of a fist to remember that this was real and not a dream.

I followed her into the garden.

Plants prickled at my skin with each step. Some were beautiful, and I'd ask Roserade about what kind of plants or flowers they were to break the ice. She said she was the primary caretaker of the Solarium while Gardenia was working and that they were always ordering more plants from abroad. Recently, they'd been looking into getting some native to Driftana, the massive continent in the southern hemisphere that was uninhabited by humanity save for the three Ranger Nations that clung to its coast.

It was interesting to learn more about the place from Roserade. People had gone to explore the interior before, but it seemed to change every year. It was a continent blasted by deathly winds and reshaped its landscapes as if the earth itself was restless. Mountains would crumble, rivers would vanish, and vast stretches of forest would appear where none had existed before. Not only that, but the Pokemon there were aggressive because of how unused to humans they were. Roserade had a bit of an explorer streak in her, something we could fully bond over, and she hoped her trainer would take a year off at some point within the next few years like Jasmine so they could explore as much of the world as possible. To be honest, if I could… reignite whatever I was lacking during the Byron battle, traveling sounded like a whole lot of fun.

I'd sworn that I would do it long ago; it was a dream taken from a man who was now dead.

Unfortunately, words were easier than actions.

In the midst of the makeshift jungle, Gardenia sat curled up in a ball on a wrought-iron garden chair, her legs tucked beneath her as she typed away at her laptop. There was no clearing where she'd be able to have more space, just a chair and table shoved in as well as possible. Tendrils of green brushed against her from nearby vines, and sunlight streamed through the glass ceiling. I'd expected her to look tired, but she wasn't. She seemed nearly rejuvenated, her fingers typing deftly on her laptop and her eyes wide open.

There was a giant coffee mug next to her, though. The steam still rose and brushed against the leaves above her. She was surprisingly wearing her Gym Leader outfit and not casual clothing. Orange cargo shorts, green boots, and a cropped, forest-green cape draped over a long-sleeved black shirt which left her midriff exposed. Strangely, seeing it just made me miss Maylene.

Ugh. Get it together.

Like clockwork, her laptop closed. The expression that met mine was a smile, albeit a polite one. "Hey. I'm glad you made it," Gardenia said. She stood up and took a few steps toward me. "Sorry I couldn't go down to get you—"

"It's fine. I know you're, uh, busy. Roland told me."

She looked down at me, her smile never leaving her face. It felt like my skin was being prickled by needles. "Hm. I've noticed this about you—I told you back at the ceremony, right? You struggle to take compliments, but it looks like apologies are the same."

"Oh."

"When I say I'm sorry, I mean it," she added. "Don't put yourself down."

"I'll try."

"You don't mind if we stay out here?" she asked, and I shook my head. Gardenia gently grabbed at a large leaf from some plant I didn't know—slightly purple at its edges—and smiled as she smelled the greenery. "Great. It's the only place I feel truly at ease in; I could work here an entire day and not notice." Her eyes softened a little. "How did you find the city?"

Glancing back, I noticed Roserade had already left, most likely to keep taking care of the plants. Such a garden was most likely a full-time job in and of itself.

There was more small talk to be had, and more pleasantries exchanged while Gardenia finished her coffee. This talk did matter; it just wasn't going to be the meat of today's topic and was more of a gateway to what Gardenia really wanted to talk about.

"Maylene's a pretty big fan of this city—though you'd be hard-pressed to figure out a place in Sinnoh she doesn't like," Gardenia said with a short laugh. "Even Snowpoint." I studied the way she moved, but her body was nearly still save for occasionally bringing her mug to her lips. "I've been trying to get her to add more greenery to Veilstone, but she's had a lot on her plate lately." There was a short pause, and her eyes flicked up. Here we go. "She's been a lot happier lately. She's gotten a lot more confident too."

I nodded, hands relaxing slightly. "Yeah, I'm glad she's… finding fulfillment in her job now. Making it her own thing instead of letting her father's abuse influence her."

For the first time, there was weakness—no, it wasn't weakness to let your emotions show; this wasn't… a fight like how I'd handled Rood and Mallory. Pain flickered on Gardenia's face for an instant, making her expression sour. "I should have been there for her," she said. "It's been tough on all of us, but I should have. Thank you again, Grace."

It felt odd to be thanked when I'd been the one to push Maylene over the edge in the first place, like an accolade laced with poison. I took the compliment anyway. "I—yeah. I guess." My finger twirled around a strand of my hair. "I really want her to be happy."

"She's something else, isn't she?" Gardenia smiled, and finished her coffee. The mug gently clacked against the iron table. "Can I show you a plant?"

"Sure?"

Gardenia led the way to a tall, graceful pot by the window, where there, under the summer sun, stood a striking plant. Its broad, deep red and green leaves fanned out dramatically, catching the light in a way that gave them an almost metallic sheen.

"This is a Castor Bean," Gardenia said, gently touching a leaf. "It's beautiful, isn't it? But you have to be cautious—it contains one of the most toxic substances in nature—this is what you make ricin from. You wouldn't know it just by looking, though." It looked pretty menacing to me, but I didn't say anything. "It thrives in the right conditions but can be dangerous if mishandled." She looked over, her expression neutral and head utterly still, but eyes sharp. "Appearances can sometimes be deceiving."

It was… a pretty-looking plant, for sure, but I was more focused on what she was actually trying to say. I rolled my shoulders uncomfortably and pushed my tongue against the roof of my mouth to focus. "It looks nice. Does it grow in Sinnoh?"

"It doesn't grow in Shinwa at all. It's native to southern Unova—and southern Orre, once upon a time." Her fingers kept touching the red-tinted leaf with enough gentleness and care you'd think she was handling a child. "You know, despite its danger, the Castor Bean isn't all bad. If you know how to work with it, it produces castor oil. Useful in skin care, hair care, and back in the day before common medicine, it was a widespread anti-inflammatory."

"You keep it here anyway," I stated, trying to keep the uneasiness out of my voice. "You care for it."

"It took me a while to actually get one, and longer still to decide if I could trust myself to handle it," Gardenia finished, her voice steady but thoughtful. "When Maylene called me in tears after you ran away, I told her to block you and never speak to you again."

My throat felt dry. I hadn't expected her to swing away from the metaphor so quickly. "It was the right thing to say. I handled that… awfully."

"She was devastated in a way I'd never seen her, and I've known Maymay a while," the Gym Leader added. "And I'd noticed this a few weeks back, but when she was sobbing over the phone, I thought, 'wow. She must really, really love her to be this heartbroken.' And that's been sitting with me. Percolating in my heart, spinning and spinning like a thought I just can't get rid of." My back straightened, and I grabbed onto my wrist to feel Mimi. "You're going to be leaving; she's going to be staying. Long-distance is far from impossible, but it's hard. There are going to be challenges—but I suppose I'm circling the point. Do you love her as much as she loves you, or is this just… temporary."

"I do!" I yelled, fist clenching. I was surprised at how offended I'd gotten at the notion that Maylene wasn't important to me. Feeling naked due to my outburst, I made myself small and bit my lip. "I do," I repeated. "I want this to last; I'm not using her. I want her to be happy just as much as you do, and we've made plans for the distance, and we talk about things, and—I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologize."

"I don't want to yell at you." I was the last person who should have been yelling at anyone.

The grass type specialist snorted. "Maymay said you could be snarky. She called it cute." She had? I knew it was the way she felt, but her talking to others about me made my body feel warm. Gardenia stepped toward me and poked my chest. "That fight you have in you lets me know you do care about her," she added.

I was blushing, wasn't I? "I guess so."

Gardenia breathed out another laugh. "Why don't we go to my office? I barely use it, but it'd be more convenient."

"What for? I mean—sure, but what are we going to be doing?"

"It's a surprise," she said. "Tell me about Maymay on the way. She acts completely different with you than she does with us."

That?

That, I could do.

—

"What do you see when you look at this trainer?" Gardenia asked.

She was playing old footage of her Gym Battles on her television. She had called it her office, but really, it was more of a living space that was also filled with plants, though these were some I recognized as Sinnohan even if I wasn't knowledgeable enough to know their names. The footage was crisp and clean, netting a far higher quality than what I was used to or what was usually released to the public. This was the second eighth badge battle she was showing me, and each time, rather than focusing on strategy or the Pokemon used, she narrowed her focus to the people.

Not that I wasn't looking to the tactics used, either. It was still incredible to me that no fight would be the same. There were far more subtleties to the manipulation of wind from this Pelipper than I'd ever seen. They managed to speed up their attack to near sound barrier breaking levels through a wind tunnel, all while slowing Gardenia's Shiftry to a crawl amidst the turbulent rain.

But that wasn't the focus, nor was it the trap Gardenia had sprung. It was a masterclass in patience; she'd been willing to be behind by two Pokemon to feed confidence like you would give drywood to a fire. Shiftry seized control of the winds from Pelipper, who was weakened from their previous fight with an Abomasnow, and stole it for themselves to use as a weapon against the remainder of her challenger's team.

Shiftry being able to use wind was common sense. One controlling it as well as a flying type to the point of being able to steal it from them, using their own strength against them was not.

"He's nervous, but trying not to be," I said, leaning closer to the screen. "He's gotten better at hiding it as the battle went on, but he's still clenching his jaw after each order, and there's a little waver in his voice that's grown more noticeable since he fell behind.."

"That is accurate, but it's a surface-level read." Gardenia grabbed the remote and went back in the footage all the way to the start of the battle. The challenger sent out a Mamoswine, and Gardenia followed suit by releasing a Victreebell. "Always go deeper. Figure out why he feels the way he feels."

"It's his first eighth, isn't it?" I asked. He looked a little old, maybe a third year. "Obviously, he doesn't want to lose."

"A simple but again accurate read on him. You can go deeper. He was a third year," ah, I had been right, "there was pressure mounting on him to actually get to the Conference. Look at the clothes he's wearing; he's sponsored by a sportswear company. This was going to be his last attempt—look at the date." Gardenia pointed to the top right of the screen—it was the final week of May. "It's the little things that add up to the final answer that 'he doesn't want to lose.'" She crossed her legs, head tilting slightly to the right. "That's how I get a lot of my challengers. Sandbag the start via setup to make them come into their own. To see who they really are when they think they're winning and confidence returns to them. Then," she slammed a fist into a palm, "you strike. That moment when everything collapses before their very eyes. You seize it and see how they respond to catastrophe."

Arceus.

She was so cool it was impossible not to make starry eyes at her. Of course, I knew the result of this battle. The challenger lost and failed to make it to the Conference that year despite his Pokemon being powerful enough to stand their ground. Again, just like in my battle against Byron, it was the trainer who often lagged behind their team.

"He made it this year before the bombs, though. Learned a whole lot from his loss," Gardenia added with a nonchalant wave. "I hope he goes far."

For a good while, we analyzed more footage together, and I got to ask her as many questions as I wanted. This would have been a dream a mere month ago, but here I was, gaining knowledge from Gardenia. She even offered me tea, and it was just as good, if not better than Aliyah's. If I had been in a better mental space, I would have been able to soak up so much more information, but even I got mentally tired eventually. Still, this information would be useful to weave narratives out of nothing. To either figure out someone's way of thinking, or to trick myself into believing they were feeling something else to carry the story.

"At the end of the day, everyone's different, even if there are some common denominators. People express their emotions differently," she said. That was true enough; Denzel loved to clench his fists when he was nervous, while I bit my tongue or lip sometimes to the point of bruising, and I sweated gallons. Someone else might have also clenched their fists when they were excited, for example. "There's no real science to it. Sometimes, your reads are wrong, and it bites you in the butt."

"Has that ever happened to you?" I asked.

"Oh, plenty, especially when I was starting out. Less so today, but the rare fuck up does happen. I can always recover and offer a proper challenge." Gardenia offered me a helpful smile. "Remember, the strategy at play's the important part. Reading someone's body language comes second, even if it's a great help. No need to take needless risks."

Ah. I wondered what she'd say if she knew I was reworking my battling style and literally taking a million risks while doing so, especially so close to the Conference—if I even made it there. Gardenia struck me as someone who wouldn't like unknowns or straying from certain conditions she'd set in fights.

"This is going to be a lot of help to me. Thanks a lot, Gar—Leader Gardenia." Stumbling over my words like a child made my cheeks turn rosy.

"Gardenia is fine."

"Oh. Gar—Gardenia," I forced myself to finish the word. How in the world had Virtuous done so well when meeting her for the first time?

Nevermind. That question answered itself; she was her, and I was me.

"Say. I have a question," I said.

She turned off the television and stretched on her couch, groaning slightly. "Go ahead."

"I've always been curious. What made you want to decide to battle the way you do? And uh, why did you become a grass type specialist? And a Gym Leader?"

"Those are three questions, but I'll answer anyway." Crap. That was three questions. "I met Candice pretty early in my journey. In this very city, in fact," she said, a look of fondness on her face. "And for a while, she was impossible for me to read. I could never tell when she was serious or joking or angry or—anything, really. There was just a veneer of irony around her all the time—and trust me, she used to be worse."

"Worse?" I repeated, disbelieving.

Gardenia nodded. "Worse. It was as irritating as it was captivating. And from there, well…"

I could see the shape easily. She'd wanted to get better at figuring people out to break through Candice's walls.

"For as long as I've lived, I've been a fan of grass types," Gardenia continued, her voice carrying a warmth that matched her smile. "There's a resilience to them, a quiet strength that often goes unnoticed among inexperienced trainers. To them, they're just Pokemon who for the most part are cheap to handle because a portion of their nutrients will come from the sun or the soil—but I'm rambling," she quickly added. "Let me paint a different picture."

There was a short pause, and the sun seemed to radiate off her, casting a soft glow. "Plants are always the first thing back after a catastrophe," she said, her voice steady. "No matter how much destruction there is—fires, storms, or rampaging Legendary—plants are the ones that return, quietly reclaiming the land. They rebuild the world without fanfare—it's just so quiet. You see a barren wasteland, and then, almost out of nowhere, a small sprout emerges, and then there's life again. Just look at Orre!" she nearly laughed, a slight glee in her eyes. "Not even five years after Moltres, plants were growing among the desert and rocks! That's what makes grass types so special. They're a reminder that no matter how hard you're hit, you can always come back stronger than before."

A "woah" escaped me, and she laughed again, this time more steadily.

"That's why I joined this Gym as a trainer. I wanted to become the best grass type trainer I could be. Plus, I fell in love with this city." Gardenia looked out the window, her eyes full of love and care. "There's no place like it."

I asked her where she was born, and she surprisingly answered Pastoria—though she'd flown to Jubilife to start her journey in her first year. Floaroma would have just fit so well…

I spoke up again, returning to the topic at hand. "I don't know if I'd be able to stick in one place that long. One country, maybe when my wanderlust's gone. If it ever leaves." Even now, I couldn't shake the anticipation I had to explore a brand new land a whole continent away. "But years at a time somewhere, always in a Gym? I don't know."

"It takes a very specific mindset to give your life to this job. The hours are grueling, the pay's good, but you can basically never use it anyway, and trainers always complain about you. But you can easily find fulfillment in the work. Seeing your city grow for the better, meeting your constituents, meeting all kinds of different Pokemon, fighting really good battles once in a while… it gets tiring very quickly, but it's also fun." She glanced at me. "You'll have to figure yourself out. I doubt Maylene has ever given moving or retiring any thought."

I fondly smiled. "I know. She lives for this." It wasn't like I hadn't thought about our relationship beyond the next year. I figured that if the long-distance stuff went well, maybe I'd try to spend a few months at a time in Sinnoh after or while traveling to whatever region, and she'd be able to take more frequent breaks. Of course, there was always Poketch to consider, but we had time to figure things out. "We'll make it work. Or at least I'll try my damndest to."

"Good." She inhaled. "Now—"

Out of the open window, clouds blotted out the bright sun. A shiver swept through the air, and it thickened until it grew suffocating; Gardenia's eyes sharpened, cutting through the moment that seemed like it would stretch on forever. Her plants writhed around her as one, and despite knowing it must have been a gust of wind or a coincidence, I couldn't help but think she was making them move as one. Each breath grew shallower and shallower as if a vine was slowly constricting around my throat. For all Gardenia had touted grass types' survivability, they were creatures of slow death. A Tangela striking from behind a bush, sucking the life out of a Bidoof over the course of minutes through a constricting Mega Drain; a Rattata stuck in a Victreebel's acid sack slowly being digested to death; a Leavanny keeping a Cinccino in a bundle of silk to save them for consumption for a later day.

It was a terrifying look, a nearly haunting stare that heralded disaster. I forced another breath through my tightened throat and gulped as a bead of sweat dripped from my forehead to my chin, then fell on my lap. It wasn't that I wasn't used to being stared at this way; it was just so unexpected from Gardenia that I'd needed to completely reframe who I thought she was as a person, and that was disturbing enough to send shivers down my spine.

"Did I say something wrong?" I asked once I recovered. My voice was tiny like prey trying to make itself small.

"Nothing at all. I'm just curious, you see." The Gym Leader spoke quietly as she stood up from her couch and stared down at me. "I've learned a lot about you these past two hours—but I can't help but think… do you have what it takes?"

"What do you mean?"

"I know Maylene loves you, and I know you love her just as much," she continued. "But you're… hm. I'm the kind of person who thinks two people in a relationship should push each other to greater heights they would never have reached alone. You've been on a steady climb so far, but there's…" she trailed off and snapped her fingers a few times, "there's something missing. Maylene speaks, and she's brighter; you speak, and you're dimmer. You're doing better, but you still haven't bloomed, Grace. And I fear you may never do so. That the season's passed."

"What are you saying?" I asked, again not knowing what she meant.

"There's something about you I can't figure out, and this is the only way I can think of to drag it out of you." Gardenia took a deep breath. "Grace Pastel, I challenge you to a Pokemon Battle."

There was a jolt, a jerk that was so sudden within me it was nearly painful. My heart skipped a beat, then pounded in my chest, a mix of shock and something else—anticipation? Fear? It was hard to tell. I hadn't expected this, not from her.

The sun peeked out from behind the cloud, and the room was illuminated in sunlight again. As if on cue, Gardenia's expression brightened with nothing but kindness, and she clapped her hands twice.

"I'll give you twenty minutes to decide. Should you accept my challenge, I will be waiting for you in my arena. Preparations must be made."

Before I could even answer—

She was gone like the wind.

What the fuck had just happened?

Twenty minutes? How the hell was I supposed to prepare in so little time. I'd gotten zero ways of studying—no, wait. She'd let me watch her battles with other seven badgers. Had it been just for this moment? Was this why she'd been wearing her Gym Leader outfit? My eyes widened, and my fingers trembled at the fact that I'd walked into a trap from the moment I'd stepped into Gardenia's Gym. I was now ensnared within her grasp, and there was nothing I could do. Did I have enough information? Even two hours wasn't enough to know the ins and outs of Gardenia's Pokemon or the person herself. If I said no, would she disapprove of me dating Maylene? If I said no, would my flame be extinguished and never return? If I said no, would I—

Enough! My breathing sped up in line with my racing thoughts, and I placed a hand over my clamoring heart. I could hear my blood rushing in my ears, feel it pulsing down my arms with each beat against my bones.

The challenge was made. Now, I needed to either accept or run with my tail between my legs.

The latter was not an option. Not with so many risks involved.

Time was quickly running out. Instead of doing some last-minute cramming I already knew wouldn't be effective, I released my Pokemon—my entire family—out in Gardenia's room, and Mimi transformed back into their original form after crawling up my shoulder. It was large enough to accommodate all of them, even if it was tight and Sweetheart needed not to move, just in case. They all balked in surprise once I gave them the news, some with more joy than anything else, but all had that underlying ball of anxiety in their gut. I could tell.

"I have to accept," I said as Angel caressed my head with a clump of vines. "But our planning's all gone to waste. It's—it's what I'm good at. Maybe the only thing I'm good at outside of killing!" I bit my lip to keep quiet. It wouldn't do to have someone overhear through the door. "Do I even stand a chance? This is Gardenia we're talking about."

Princess hopped closer to me and patted my side with her fluffy wing, saying that they were with me no matter what. Sunshine grunted out that it was now or never. That I would get all depressed again if I refused, and it screwed up everything. Buddy followed by saying better a loss to Gardenia than that again as he hovered closer, but the dragon growled at his defeatist attitude. Who said we would lose? he said, planting a heated foot on the ground. Sweetheart grinned, her tail swaying from side to side and nearly hitting Honey in the leg. The electric type nodded at me with a silent look of approval, and wherever the team went, Cassianus followed most of the time, still. Angel wrapped all of us in a tight hug.

We had to do this. Together.

I sucked in a sharp breath. "We need a new thread to spin," I whispered. "A new story to tell—no, wait. Not completely new. I can do this. I can make it work." If there was one thing I was good at doing, it was tricking my own brain into believing something else. After two minutes of brainstorming in silence— "I have it." A maddened smile stretched across my mouth. "I'm recalling all of you. Be ready for a fight the next time you're out—I don't know who I'll be picking yet; it depends on how the story's going. I have to rush to the waiting room to get into the right mindset."

They responded with their own noises of approval. Growls, squeals, whistles, grunts, whirs, et cetera. Even a celebratory chime from Cass and a little dance from Mimi. They all disappeared, melting into a red light as their Pokeball absorbed their essence.

Everything I had come up with to beat Byron. Plans and a narrative burned to smithereens, ground to dust, and thrown into the winds, and for what?

For a single chance at redeeming my sense of self.

Okay.

Okay.

Yes.

This was an—

—

Ambush.

Across me stretched an endless expanse of verdant green as far as the eye could see. The grass swayed like a whisper in the wind, a hypnotic motion that had captured my attention for as long as I could remember. The sun above me was scorching, a blasting heat that warmed everything it touched, yet the ground below was cold and hard. I remembered now, how I had stayed here since my spirit had been smothered and how I had vowed to remain here for the remainder of my puny little life.

However;

Beyond the plains grass undulating like Ekans slithering in the ground, beyond the shallow lakes that mirrored the sun's light in brilliant, shimmering rainbows, beyond the few oak trees that stood tall and unyielding, each old and worn by time and the elements, was a woman. It was difficult to discern her from here, especially when I could not look at her for long. For the woman was change, and change was an uncomfortable, terrifying unknown. Better to stay here and keep looking at this unchanging land for another countless amount of years.

There was desire in every glimpse of her eyes caught in my peripheral vision. Her orange hair flared up like a flame as she spoke and challenged me. Six on six, three switches, just like the Gym Battles of old. For months, she had heard of me. Of the person I should have been. A creature of passion for fighting that was overzealous in nature, always eager for the next bout.

This Adventurer had come all the way here to find me. To lay a trap—an ambush to catch me off-guard and see what I was worth. And oh, how the once brightened light had dimmed; how the mighty all-encompassing thirst for battle had fallen.

Running was an option; when was it not? All this time, I had run away from responsibility, but I owed it to the select few who knew the truth of me to try. The Pokeball felt alien in my hand, not because of its shape or function, but because of the now unfamiliar intent that filled my heart. I tried to muster up a grin, and it didn't quite reach my eyes. I wanted this once. Yearned for it. There was something familiar about this ambusher, a need to reignite myself for her and everyone else I cared about.

My hand tightened around the ball, its smooth surface cold against my skin.

"Fine," I said, my voice a ghost of what it had once been—a decrepit whisper that rasped against my throat. "Don't be disappointed."

Lethargically, I pointed the device at the field and allowed my first Pokemon out of his ball.

With silence, I released my Jellicent, and with a deathly silence, he answered in turn. Like forgotten memory, he hovered a few inches off the ground with a transparency that made it feel like he wasn't even there. Plants and grass near him froze, withered and died as if he rejected the very world of the living. Mist coiled around him, thick and carried by purple wind and distortion from another land where souls went to die.

"We've been attacked," I whispered to a piece of him. There was nothing in my voice. "Send her away."

The woman frowned, confused and unknowing, but I paid her no mind. She cleared her throat and threw a Pokeball up, releasing one of her own Pokemon. A floating ball of cotton lighter than the wind, its body a brilliant blue that seemed to shine with the sun's luster. Sheer joy radiated out of the creature, for she enjoyed the way air carried her wherever she wished. Jumpluff, the woman called her, but I knew what her Role would be. I glanced away from the Pokemon with a glare, realizing she had been the Scout to find me here among the endless prairie.

Without a signal, seeds exploded out of the Scout, all uniform and carried by the green-hued winds. They were white and fluffy, almost like Dandruff, and they began littering every inch of the field. Trap, I instantly knew, yet mine Reflection's reaction was one borne of reluctance. With a sigh that seemed to warp the spirits around him, his body turned to ice, and not with a moment to spare. Seeds around him bounced off or froze before they could sprout and take hold.

The mist was still rolling upon the field as my challenger pointed forward, her cape billowing behind her—

Arceus, damn it, she was so cool—no. Don't fucking break character!

She pointed forth and ordered a Cotton Spore and a Sunny Day; quicker than I could blink, the rays intensified, yet were still a gentle warmth perfect for plants to grow in. Seeds around Jellicent beyond his aura of death and cold sprung to activity, erupting in—

A continuous explosion. They swelled with the fire of life beneath them and burst, spreading more seeds that exploded in turn. Chunks of Jellicent's frozen form went flying, but right from beyond the mist came a scream of agonizing death. Night Shade after Night Shade rushed forth, forcing the Scout to redirect itself upward with the wind as they exploded, bruising the grass type slightly.

With a bit of luck, they'd have run. Too bad we were anything but lucky. They had traveled too long, gone too far to find me to give up now.

"Water and Freeze," I whispered. We would fight at a distance.

Still just as sluggish, just as slow, water surged out of every crack formed on my Reflection's surface by the explosions from the Cotton. My opponent called out to her Scout, and the seeds around Jellicent turned poisonous and exploded in purple, roiling smoke. Somehow, even through the thick mist, they knew where we were; they must have been using the cotton seeds to keep track. Still vapid but undeterred, I watched as countless gallons formed up in rotating walls around Jellicent, each a thickened barrier of ice. Just like I, he would reject the outside world and refuse to move. Instead, he sent out more clones to do his bidding. It was easier to shut out the outside world than to take a step out and allow the flying ball of cotton to take hold.

I could see it within the mist. The field was overlapped with each Pokemon's influence—the limitless seeds our opponent could call upon that had disseminated to every corner, and the spirits who had spread among the fog. From the vapor, water could be called upon, forming ice around the Scout. Lances of ice that they could not melt, icy rain that pierced through her body, beams that arced toward her in awkward angles. It was difficult to tell exactly how many Night Shades Jellicent had called upon. He had, after all, broken past the limit of two weeks—long ago.

Don't break character. You've been here since time immemorial.

However;

The Scout brought with it unbridled joy and whimsy that seemed to make the ghosts under my Reflection's dominion cower in fear. Instead of fearing the pale beyond, she laughed and laughed and laughed, leaving trails of explosions in her wake as a concentrated Tailwind hastened her to speeds that warped the air around her. Directly above Jellicent's unmoving body, his form surrounded by rotating walls of ice, the grass type glowered with the power of the sun above, its glow like an angel's halo behind her.

Light unyielding, it bore down on us like a hammer, parting the mist in a column below, shattering our five ice walls, and tearing through the earth. The stalking shadows wavered as their master was left a broken pile of liquid and vapor among the smoldering crater, but we were not down for the count. Greedily, Jellicent found within himself an idea—not the will to fight, to show this challenger that we were worthy of our reputation, but the will to survive.

We had, after all, lasted this long through every trial, every wound, every shattering.

"Dissipate," I muttered.

And thus, he fizzled out into vapor. Yet the Adventurer—she smiled, her gaze intense—would not let Jellicent escape and recover through the ambient mist that remained. She swiftly ordered for her Pokemon to intensify her Tailwind, and it turned green with the essence of life that choked out the spirits that had haunted our mist for so long. They rasped in agony, each scream reverberating across these endless plains. This technique was unknown to me, but I figured out soon enough that it was destroying Jellicent even though he was disembodied into vapor.

But here lay the truth of it;

Gone from eyesight, he was, but he had not moved. Because how could he? Jellicent was my Reflection, and tiredness had seeped into my very bones. The green wind sparkled with energy stolen by the Scout, and life bloomed where it had died around Jellicent, even within the smoking crater. Flowers of every creed and color bloomed, vines slithered on the earth, cotton was born and once more erupted in a cacophony of explosions.

"Don't count us out," I said. "Mass Freeze."

The remaining mist liquefied in an instant; water froze in the air. Enough to fill a lake, enough to drown our problems and sorrows under the weight of frigid waters. How dare this little puny blue thing look at us like this? How dare she laugh as the world around her became encased in ice and her very innards threatened to freeze solid? How dare she push onward despite our attempt to stop her in her tracks? Through determination, she fought the world itself, frozen, crackling, and groaning like a slowly shifting glacier, weaving thick, warmed pollen around her like a coat.

Palm facing upward, I closed my fist and clenched, almost willing for the ice to crush her into entropic paste. Spirits rallied into shades, spitting clumps of Acid at Jumpluff in hopes of destroying her Cotton Guard, but just like everything else, it was all for naught.

Mist dissipated.

Shades wailed as they shriveled up and ran back into Distortion.

Jellicent reappeared, a tiny pond among the flowers on the ground.

The Scout heaved for air—I could still see her breath in the quickly-dissipating cold, each one labored and tired as frost flaked off her—and spat out a Bullet Seed at the ghost-turned-puddle. He did not go down with a bang, but with the most pathetic of whimpers—the only sound he had made this entire fight.

He had, however, not left without a trace. Behind him, the air was still, and a hollow cavern of frozen ice remained, etched into the otherwise flowery landscape like a scar and using the plant-covered crater as a base. Life refused to take root here as if it had been warded with a curse. It was thin, yet open on both sides of the field; entrances faced both I and our Challenger.

His sculpting training with Princess had paid off—

"Jellicent is unable to battle! Challenger, send out—"

Gah! Cut the referee out of mind; he didn't exist! Focus. Focus!

Deep breaths.

For the first time, I faced my challenger—this Adventurer. Her hair burned like the sun; her clothes were green like nature; she was the herald of change, whereas I was stuck and forever immutable.

There was, however, the tiniest of embers. Warmth on my hip, not eager to get out, but not crippled as my Reflection had been. Was now… no, it wasn't. But was it? I unclasped the Pokeball from my belt and stared down at the bumps and crevices in the metal, a knot forming in my stomach. He would perhaps not be ready, but a fire needed time to get going. Hesitantly, hesitantly, I let out Turtonator into the ice cavern. Here, he would be shielded from these life-giving winds carrying seeds, but more importantly—

If my fair Jellicent had been my outer Reflection, my flesh, skin, bones, and thoughts, then Turtonator was my Soul within. The empty furnace left barren without even embers to keep it warm. He did not announce his presence with a roar or a sky-bound Flamethrower, but with a deep growl that reverberated all over his hollow chamber. His shell glowered with a dull red instead of our vibrant blue that would wipe anything close to him clean. He had been asleep for longer than we could remember, lying on his stomach with his tail curled up.

Yet just like every time action was demanded of us, every time we had to fight,

The dragon stood.

With a hasty command, our challenger ordered her Scout to float away, up and up through the fading mist that was now but a thin, see-through veil. A sad smile stretched upon my lips, for I knew it meant she had heard great histories of my dear sun.

Yet no great fire came, nor did we snatch their Sunny Day and turn the world into an unlivable hell.

The following words came out smoothly. "Rock Tomb, Dragon Pulse."

Heavy steps followed, each one just as slow as the last as the Adventurer asked for the grass type to swap the winds from grass to fairy. With a ripple across the air, it turned pink and intensified around Turtonator, who had to take a step out of his cave to attack. From the earth rose countless rocks that flew upward with flowers still attached to them. I could see it in the woman's eyes, how she expected me to spring a trap. Would the rocks explode in great works of flame and ash? Would we superheat them until the air itself caught ablaze? The seeds remaining across these rocks turned to great thorny vines that squeezed and crushed many of them as they made their journey upward, and the Scout kept flying back—

However.

"Flash Cannon."

It was but a distraction. A bright light gathered on the dragon's snout before turning pinpoint, their essence tearing through the very wind that had kept battering us. With a tired sigh, my Soul sent it flying—it cut through the air like a knife, its light spreading so quickly the already-tired Scout had scant time to dodge. With an upward swing, it streaked across the flying type's body and cotton balls, causing her to scream with an ear-shaking shriek. The rocks that were still in the sky, albeit falling, landed all across the field with loud crashes.

Unsettled, the Adventurer told her Scout to use Stun Spore. She hadn't before because she thought we'd just burn them anyway, but she'd seen through us now. A heap of yellow spores exploded around Jumpluff and were carried directly toward the ice cave by their Fairy Wind. These spores were thick, clinging together as they gathered momentum, swirling in the breeze like tiny soldiers on a march.

Turtonator shot me a look. My instincts as a trainer and his as an expert battler were screaming something else. I shut him down with my vapid stare and a head nudge. There was an advantage to this, even if—

Shut up. Keep your head in the game.

"Smokescreen and Smog," I added. The following Flash Cannon did not need to be said.

Darkened, poisonous ash roiled throughout his cavern. This was an old trap of his he had sprung on us many times while training when he had first joined the team. Just then, spores entered the Smog. It was my hope that most of them would degenerate from the poison.

But more importantly.

This attack. It was important; it was memory; it was warm. There was a warning from Garde—from the Adventurer, but her Scout could no longer absorb as much energy from us through the wind, not that we had anything left to give. They were on their last legs. Another light, the tiniest of points, came to life within the ashes, and then once again sliced through the air. This one singed the grass type, who was a smoking mess as the woman recalled her before she could hit the earth below. The smog cleared, and beyond the sluggish, half-paralyzed movements, I noticed that my Soul was glowing just a little brighter, exuding just a little more heat, standing just a little taller.

My breath hitched in my throat as our challenger considered her options. That Flash Cannon had been warmer than it should have been.

What followed was—

A living continent. Massive in size, large enough to make each of her movements shake the very foundations of the earth. She was so large, in fact, that she was covered in moss and plants and spiky rocks and a massive tree. Torterra, the woman called her, and for a moment, memories of Harry Rodriguez flashed in my mind. The urge to let the story go to waste and to order a killing blow was only a passing one, but it was an urge nonetheless.

"Dragon Pulse—"

The adventurer interrupted me with an order of her own, her voice dominant enough to overtake every inch of the field. I took a step back as seeds from Jumpluff still floating around the field, landed on the Guardian's back and bloomed into a set of brown flowers covering her entire shell, drawing nourishment from the fertile land beneath. The large, earthy, brown petals began to pulse with energy like a long-held breath as they curved inward and rotated toward our cavern—

"Retreat," I corrected. "Retreat and Iron Defense."

Gardenia grinned, and the world exploded.

In perfect unison, each flower released an earthy blast of mud and life. The field seemed to sing in harmony with the strike, surrendering all it had to fuel the Guardian's attack. The dragon glimmered with the power of steel as he retreated into his shell, and the blast slammed into his cavern. It rended the ice into a million pieces, shattering it like a broken mirror with strength that rattled the barrier in front of me. This Torterra, I realized, was ancient. She had labored in nature's service for so long that the earth itself answered her call, giving everything it had to power her attack, a testament to the deep connection she shared with the world beneath her feet.

From the broken world above him, my Soul rose, each movement sluggish. He had been buried in ice and mud, the latter of which clung to his scales like a cancer. He had turned around and retreated into his shell to resist much of the damage, but it was slightly damaged. Swirling turquoise energy peppered by heat swirled around his snout, the birth of a Dragon Pulse, but Gardenia ordered a world-shattering Earthquake, and the world held its breath. The blast of draconic energy hit the grass type head-on, but all it got us was a pained grunt—she did not even waver nor slow her attack. The Guardian pushed herself off, standing on her two hind legs, and when she landed, she showed us the meaning of power.

The moment her massive limbs struck the ground, the world beneath us heaved and groaned, as if the very bones of the planet were shattering beneath her weight. What followed was not a mere tremor but a cataclysmic upheaval—a rolling, thunderous quake that surged outward in violent ripples as if the earth had liquefied.

I recalled Turtonator before it could reach him. It would, after all, not do me any good to witness my Soul fall in battle. What surprised me was that the rending of the earth did not destroy it, but bring about more life. Yes, it had been upturned; plants and trees had been ripped apart, but following the Earthquake came a veritable wave of flowers. Again, the seeds from Jumpluff served their purpose, and there were so many still multiplying I feared they would never run out.

My eyes scanned the field for a moment. There were still rocks from my Soul about the plains, though a lot of them had been shattered by the earthquake; the flowers atop the Guardian had all wilted and fallen. There were really two options here that would not bleed into the narrative, and who would be able to take down this Torterra—no, I was thinking far too narrowly. A story was not a straightforward affair but a river with twists and turns. Have faith in your team; see where it takes you. There was one particular aspect of myself whom I could follow with. My Soul was not ready to be reignited yet, so perhaps…

A little faster this time—just a little faster—I sent Claydol out of their Pokeball. The psychic beeped, their eyes constantly blinking as they scanned the field below them. Their turrets were reclined in on their body, waiting for a call to action, and whenever they weren't blinking, their eyes were half-closed. One look at their opponent, and there was an understanding between us. Yes, I thought with a heavy heart. For Sacrifice was Claydol, and Claydol was Sacrifice. A desire to fulfill their duty as strong as unbending steel, whether that be protecting me or fighting to keep us alive. Harm and death might cast their ominous shadows in our path, but they would always see things through.

Our challenger shot us a curious look—she must have expected us to respond with something else, like Togekiss or Tyranitar. Those who would be able to go toe-to-toe with the Guardian she had unleashed upon us. What we needed, however, was control.

And while Sacrifice still was not an offensive powerhouse like my other aspects, they were no longer a pushover. The Adventurer bellowed out an order with a grin, and leaves and flowers and moss and plants and grass and dirt peeled off the Guardian's body and the ground, carried by winds only slightly weaker than Jumpluff's had been. The Leaf Storm was deafening, a careening dissonance that made my head feel like it was spinning. The vibrant greens and earthy browns spiraled upward in a chaotic dance, an orchestra of nature at the Guardian's beck and call.

I bit my lip. "Go forward and Wide Guard."

Before the words were even out of my mouth, a transparent point of pink light materialized in front of Claydol, then spread as they molded the psychic shape into a wide screen. They slowed in the air when the storm hit them; the winds and objects it carried repeatedly slammed against the wall with a grinding screech, like nails scratching against a chalkboard.

It tilted, cracked, wailed under the strain.

But it held.

Growth, the Adventurer ordered, but with a snap-order, I had Claydol summon a Sandstorm to mask the sun and slow the Guardian's recovery. Leaf Storm took a lot out of a user, and now that we were in range, it was our time to strike. To pull them down with us and allow apathy to seize their soul. Where Claydol lacked in power, they made up for it in finesse. Sands roared, thick enough for me to only make out the two Pokemon because one's eyes were glowing and the other's body was doing the same.

"Imprison and send them down," I said. What was this I was feeling? This nascent tingle, this need to pull through no matter what? Better bury it like we were going to bury this living island. "Make them a tomb."

Four transparent walls appeared around Torterra where the Sandstorm grew at its most intense, not to harm, but to obscure vision and to snatch the sun away from her. Wood Hammer, our challenger called out, and the grass type's tree grew, grew and grew until it broke against the barrier and splintered it. We were blessed with the fact that it took a lot more to make a Wood Hammer or an Earthquake than an Imprison and our enemy was slow, so we trapped them again and again as the earth below them shifted into Scorching Sands. They had power, but we had control over their own element until the Guardian was half buried in her grave and—

Wait.

Wait, wait, wait.

Obscured by a grave of our own making, the Guardian was changing. Beneath her dense, gnarled, and scorched bark, bulging muscles rippled to life, swelling with nature's song. The roots in the earth. It must have been less efficient than the sun, but it worked regardless. Growth, Bulk Up, Synthesis, a triumvirate of techniques meant to hold on. They would not go down easily. Nature, as I'd come to learn, was a resilient beast.

The next order cut through the whispering, contained Sandstorm, and made my eyes widen in shock. Wood creaked with every movement, and the Guardian jumped. How? They had been rendered immobile, but they tore through the churning superheated sands and soared through the air, smashing into our Imprison with Superpower. She soared into the air, leaving a trail of rock, mud, and plants behind her. Taken aback, Sacrifice whirred, and beneath them, a pillar of stone rose within an instant. It hammered on the Guardian's stomach but broke against her body—a hastily erected barrier came next, and it too, broke apart under the weight and strain of the grass type's charge.

Ah.

I saw it then, as wood hurled itself against clay at speeds that should have been unheard of for her species. As six eyes closed and attempted to assault the Guardian's mind with Psychic as a last-ditch effort to stay afloat, all of that for naught.

The adventurer and her party… it was about pushing themselves beyond the possible.

One blow, and Sacrifice went flying, rolling onto the ground like a spinning top when they landed. The Guardian attempted to carry her momentum, though she tripped the moment she started running. Superpower had put a lot of strain on her body, which meant time for us.

"Imprison and Earth Power."

Could they do it again? That was the question. Another set of walls encased the Guardian, albeit slower this time due to the sheer amount of damage Superpower had done. Claydol's body was almost falling apart; the structure was caved in, its form grotesquely warped in a way that said they shouldn't even have been able to function. My eyes glanced at the orange-haired lady, and I suppressed whatever feeling made the hair on my arms stand on edge. Maybe we had learned from her, just a little bit.

Concentrated within the relatively tiny space, the ground below Torterra pulsed with a menacing hum, then bulged outward, then the earth itself came alive with a superheated geyser. The Guardian groaned, but alas, there was a reason we had not done this in the first place.

Our offensive power was still lacking when it needed to take out bulky Pokemon like Torterra. So much so that the Guardian could sustain herself through much of the damage; I could see her form healing through the burning earth. It came as no surprise when the Imprison broke apart once again, and although no other Superpower came, the Leaf Storm was still a threat due to the constant Growth the grass type was undergoing. It surged with a fury that defied nature, a twisting, howling vortex of razor-sharp leaves that tore through everything it touched.

It swallowed up Sacrifice, chewing them and spitting them out like one of the many rocks the storm carried. Eyes flickered on and off, and my heart jumped in my throat when they all converged toward me. Their voice was a distorted mess—a high-pitched warble that crackled with static—yet I heard their following words cut through the crisp air around me.

"Grace. Have you not given enough? Do you not want more than this?"

I blinked, eyes rapidly fluttering as the world seemed a little… not brighter, but more authentic. Like the transparency around it that had gripped even Jellicent was gone.

Were they right?

Had I given enough? I'd nearly forgotten what it was like. The endless toil of a terrified girl being shoved around by her own people in hopes that she was the answer to the world being under threat. What else could I do but accept, when my refusal might mean everything I had known and would ever know would end? And so you threw yourself under the weight of duty, forgetting to take care of anything else.

In other words, you gave. You gave, gave, gave, gave, gave, and gave, and it was never enough.

Maybe it was time to take.

She was a hulking, shifting mass of stone platings, each one more immutable than the last. She towered over even Torterra, rolling her shoulders as she smothered a grin and instead flashed her sharp teeth with a cold, almost unseeable anger. Her form radiated a raw, oppressive power—the kind that could crush small hills underfoot. She was Tyranitar, and she was the all-consuming Desire to be better. I want to be kind I want people to sing my name I want to be strong enough to be safe forever I want to never worry about money I want to trust myself with my powers I want to be forgiven I want to be loved I want to remember how to have fun I want this I want that I want EVERYTHING.

But did I deserve it?

Desire made herself tall, and my body shivered. The Adventurer stared back pensively, but allowed the Guardian to stand her ground. Earthquake, she bellowed, and once again, the world held its breath as the grass type pushed herself up on her hind legs with strength she had accessed through the soil. Grains of darkened sands slipped out of Tyranitar's vents, slowly at first, and then a deluge of void and silence tore through the world, swarming the Guardian just as she landed and broke the earth below her.

The plains rippled, shattered, and glowered with energy summoned through the soil and a mighty roar. Desire's plates took on a metallic sheen, but she kept trudging forward, her steps muffled by the darkened sandstorm until the Earthquake hit her. There was nothing but a tiny wince—she stood her ground, her feet planted firmly in the ground as the earth shifted around her and let out muffled screams as if the terrain itself could wail in agony.

"Stone Edge."

There had been rocks spread around through both Claydol and Turtonator, and she would put them to use. They were broken shards, yet she brought them together and created enormous pillars of sharpened stones that she sent barrelling toward Torterra. Her bark softened by Superpower, they easily dug into her and made her bleed, the dark red creating a heavy contrast with the darkened sands. The Guardian was dizzied and distracted by pain she was unfamiliar with; now was the time to strike.

"Rock Polish," I followed suit, my voice cutting through the storm, "and Ice Fang."

Desire's movements sharpened, her steps growing quicker and aided by the occasional expulsion of sand behind her, each greedy stride devouring the distance between her and her opponent. Mist formed around her fangs as soon as they opened, and the rock type slammed into the Guardian with a roar that was swallowed up by the storm. One could not hear the huntress thrashing against the Torterra, the hush of the wind drowning out the sounds of heavy plating meeting flesh and bone, but they could see her. Her claws gouged into the Guardian's massive shell with savage force, cracking stone and uprooting bark with each strike. Her fangs, now jagged and frostbitten, sank deep into Torterra's side, tearing through layers of bark and flesh in a violent flurry. The Guardian fought back, limbs smashing the earth in desperate retaliation, calling upon nature to come to her aid, but Desire was relentless—slamming, biting, slashing, each strike eerily silent. The fight was brutal. Primal. Her movements efficient as her teeth found the walking continent's throat and tightened.

Yes, I thought as her movements grew more and more joyous. As she grinned after each blow, be it dealt or taken. She wanted to fight, to feel the blood pumping in her veins, to feel the pain every time she was hit, to taste the blood in her mouth after a triumph. The heat of battle. I could feel it, too—her exhilaration coursing through me like a fire desperate to start; she was me, and I was her, Desire intertwined.

The Guardian fell limp against the ground, her body battered, gouged and bloodied in a way that made the Adventurer wince.

She did not even have to wait to allow out her next Pokemon. The decision was nearly instantaneous; she released the mass of metal further away, a clear sign of respect. He was a ball of spikes and death with eyes so sinister you would think he had come here to kill us and destroy all we loved. Had he come to take away nascent desire, to smother our fire in its crib? This steel type, this Ferrothorn, this Blackguard; he pushed himself up, balancing himself on balls of spikes that could easily navigate the broken terrain.

Leech Seed, Gardenia called out, and I hunched over, the Embers already snuffed out at the idea that someone would look at me like the Blackguard. Like he knew my long list of sins, and he would pick them out and read them out to me one by one. Yet, Desire fought. The Tyranitar blasted the little seeds out of the air with her storm, scattering them to the winds so we wouldn't have to worry. My challenger frowned for a moment, and then called out for a Gyro Ball.

Going in close after having attempted to fight at a distance? Desperate to shake off my nerves, I looked to the future.

The Scout had seeded these rolling plains with life, and the Guardian had used and replenished it in an endless cycle of withering, death, and rebirth. The ground was upturned, messy, and unorderly, like someone had thrown as many colors as they could onto a blank canvas. Where there was life, there would be water—not in the already-ruined lakes that had been present at the start of the battle, but within the confines of the earth.

"Ride," I ordered, surprised at the loudness of my own voice.

There was a rumble below the ground, and then water took to the surface, flooding these lands and turning them into a shallow bog. The closer the Blackguard got to us, each step calculated to be as efficient as possible, the more agitated it got. Desire kicked the wet mud, summoning beneath her an enormous slab of stone. She gathered the remaining fragments from her predecessors she could find around her, and then—

Water swept her forward, her momentum just as powerful as the Blackguard's Gyroball. For a brief moment, she faltered, slipping in the rush of momentum; my heart stuttered in time with the misstep, and the steel type threw himself into a spin faster and fiercer than even the gaze burning in his dark eyes, turning him into a whirlwind of metal and malice. Around him, a disc of searing light began to form—a luminous, deadly ring, the beginnings of a Flash Cannon that whirled like a saw blade. The light grew, expanding with every rotation until it became a shining edge that extended far beyond the steel type's form. It cut through the battlefield like a scythe, evaporating water, slicing through Tyranitar's towering stone as though it were nothing but paper, the echo of shattering rock resounding in the air. The light scraped against her plates, screeching as metal met stone, sparks erupting in a brilliant, furious display.

And so, Desire and Blackguard clashed like two mountains crashing into each other. It was much the same story that had befallen the Guardian, but our opponent this time was more equipped to deal with physical hits. Each clang that made its way through the darkened storm seemed to reinforce the idea that he was a solid wall, and while his Power Whips failed to do anything but crack my Desire's armor at best, the Leech Seed he had finally managed to attach to her was pulling its own weight—

Wait. Was it?

I squinted, eyes struggling to parse through the details of the two's obscured surroundings, but that Leech Seed was not up to par with what I'd come to expect from such a magnificent grass type trainer. Instead, it seemed sluggish, the tendrils that sprouted from them nearly anemic relative to the previous ones.

No matter; there was no time to think. Another Flash Cannon buried itself deep in Tyranitar's chest, knocking the air out of her lungs. Her eyes widened, and I ordered her to pull away the Blackguard's feelers. The first one, she got immediately and threw away, but the orange-haired woman barked out another order, and Acid burst out of Ferrothorn in waves. It did not do much, but the drops that slipped through the cracks made Desire screech and attempt to pull the second vine off the steel type's body.

But then, something clicked.

"No!" I yelled.

Yelled.

Yelled.

That was what they'd been waiting for—an opening. The rock type leaned in, claw wrapping around the Ferrothorn's feeler, but—wait, she was listening. Barely, just barely, Desire unlatched herself from the Blackguard, making the coming Revenge attached to the third and final spike ball barely scrape her.

"Now use Flamethrower!" I added.

Flames began to coil and writhe in her ever widening maw, a lighthouse within the darkness that flickered in and out. The air around her turned hazy with the sheer heat she brought forth, and the fire escaped in a single, furious torrent that swallowed up the Blackguard. An endless stream of golden flames that vaporized the water ten feet around her.

Beyond the fact that I had used a fire type move, beyond the fact that I had screamed in the heat of battle, beyond the fact that there were embers in my hearth—

This Pokemon.

I knew him. He was a faded memory, a person I couldn't place, yet I knew I had seen beforehand.

The Blackguard did not fall with a single Flamethrower, no, and I could not bring myself to utter any more words, but they kept clashing, impenetrable stone plate against sturdy steel hide, mountain against the toughest of roots. Desire, too, could not allow fire to run amock again—that little rascal sometimes got too excited and had to catch herself a split-second from another Flamethrower that made both our opponents flinch. In these moments, it felt like I had stepped out onto the world naked—exposed and vulnerable, as if my skin had been scraped raw. I had allowed the challenger to goad me, to nearly reignite me, to make me smile.

It was terrifying; I wanted it gone. I wanted it gone, gone, gone, gone. Blackguard collapsed against the swamp we'd created, only a stump remaining where one of its stems had once been. I could not help but notice how… alone Ferrothorn had been. His strategy lacked the seamless integration one would expect from a well-coordinated party. This made sense, given his Name. Blackguard was a solitary figure, a loner who only allied himself with the others in moments of desperation, otherwise preferring to forge his own path.

Yes. Giving it more thought, this was in line with everything I had foreseen.

Sweetheart was tired and wounded. She had been poisoned, battered by light and by vines. The knowledge that we could have won easier with Flamethrower than without weighed heavy on her—I could tell, but it wasn't like the Adventurer would have just let it happen. Strategically speaking, catching her by surprise had been correct. Through heavy breaths that mirrored her own, I sagged against my knees and sighed in relief. I'd flown too close to the sun; it would be better to retreat into my cold, darkened cave.

In fact—

Fingers cold against my pants, I ordered her to make a cave as our Challenger sped up her decision-making. It was nowhere as sophisticated as my Reflection, but—

From the depths of the bog, she emerged—a graceful specter cloaked in vibrant hues, a haunting vision against the backdrop of a dwindling storm. The air shimmered with her ethereal presence, two brilliant splashes of color piercing through the haze: one blue as the endless ocean, the other red like the birth of a raging fire. My throat tightened as she opened her eyes, and nature itself sang her name, for she had traveled countless miles, endless stretches of land that never ended. Roserade the Explorer, they beckoned her, and she answered in turn with a bow as the sun somehow intensified brightly enough to pierce through the Dark Sandstorm, and rain started to pour by the gallons.

Desire demanded the use of Flamethrower. "No," I answered. She asked again. "No," I answered. "Sit still, do not dare try to bite off more than you can chew. Fire is danger, and danger is terrifying," I said with shuddering breaths.

Then, she lashed out.

Would you let your, their, our sacrifices be for nothing? she yelled at me—though a laugh nearly slipped out of her—Would you—

Too late.

"Rose! Let rain and the sun befall them!" the Adventurer yelled with a laugh.

Her voice resonated like a songstress's, rich and deep, weaving through the chaos like a melodic thread in a tapestry of sound. It was my first time actually hearing it instead of processing it, and it made my soul nearly jump out of my skin.

No, no, no. The artificial sun intensified, as did the light of the actual sun, bearing down on us at temperatures more fit for a fire type than a grass one. At the same time, rain slammed into the earth, yet it did not flood. The ground itself greedily drank the liquid, using it to grow even more flowers than the Scout had wrought. This, I recognized easily, was Life Dew pushed to its absolute apex and mixed in with the rain. You could not even see the grass—it was as if each drop of rain summoned forth a bud of its own. On Desire as well, plants began to overtake her—they wrapped around her—they caused her pain by prickling her wounds and growing on her flesh—they drained her energy—they poisoned her—paralyzed her—made her drowsy—slowed her—

I got it.

I was not fighting a force of nature, but nature itself.

"Fight back!" I tried. Sweat trickled down my skin. I was ready to want, now. "Flamethrower!"

Though the plants smothered her grin and started growing inside her mouth, the rain rendered them so weak that they barely burned and fizzled out by the time they reached the Explorer. Earthquake! I tried next, and upon a bed of flowers, the poison type jumped as if she'd reached a trampoline and spun in the air. Upside down, she aimed both her bouquets toward Tyranitar as the earth split below her—nature and grass fought back to mend the gash—and the sun boomed in intensity, lowering in height until it only hovered thirty feet off the ground, and rain turned to a roaring storm.

Light of every color unfurled amidst the vapor rising from the searing heat, a kaleidoscope of hues that danced and shimmered with the Explorer's ambition and nature's call. Each color sang its own note in the symphony of life: rich emeralds and deep sapphires intertwined with fiery oranges and passionate reds, creating a breathtaking mosaic that celebrated the beauty of His creation.

Life.

The laser surged forward, a manifestation of nature's exuberance as it dispelled all that would bring darkness to His realm. Grains of darkened sands fell lifeless to the ground and were taken below by the earth, and light swallowed the dark.

One last effort. Walls of earth rose up in front of her, one, three, five layers of thickened rock while draconic energy charged within her mouth.

They were all blown away, each taking the blast just a little longer, but all for naught.

The sound of the impact was deafening, causing my hearing aid to crackle with a high-pitched ring that made me wince. How grand for a blast that signified hope to be so deadly. Desire staggered, the sheer brilliance forcing her to momentarily shield her eyes as life washed over her scales. She did not budge an inch, standing her ground, but what remained was a body overwhelmed by plantlife—enough of it not to see where the Tyranitar began and ended. In her mouth, eyes, nostrils, under her claws, within her vents.

Desire lost consciousness standing.

Holy fuck, I wanted to say, but I stayed quiet. That was—it had not been planned, but it was perfect. I recalled her and cracked each of my fingers with a satisfying pop.

Roserade looked tired as well, though nowhere near done. It felt as if that was an ultimate attack of some sort, something they had workshopped for years and perfected as time went on. Within my mind, an idea was born, overtaking every other notion until there was nothing left but a single, burning question.

Was my Soul ready?

This was not a tactical question, though the rest within his ball would have done him some good, and the sun was low and intense enough to fuel him. It was a question concerning my inner self, and by the Legendaries, endless doubt clouded my mind. Yet, Sacrifice had asked me if I had not given enough, and Desire had berated me for letting everything be for nothing, as if to ask what it was all for?

His Pokeball was just a little warmer.

Three left each.

I sent him out, again within the confines of his 'cave'—calling it that was doing Tyranitar a favor, it was more two parallel walls and a scuffed overhang than anything else, but she had done her job. While the walls were covered in plants, what lay inside was still… well, not lifeless, for the Explorer's reach extended far, but far less dense. I raised two fingers as soon as he looked back at me, and he sighed, rolling his shoulders as a dull heat exuded from his scales.

Dull, but heat nonetheless. Everything was so calm after such a display of skill by the Explorer. All I could hear was the rain pattering against the wet mud and the flower petals.

"This is her Roserade," I warned. He took one look at her and glared as she began to move, opting to fight at a close range at her trainer's discretion. At the same time, the sun rose higher again, ensuring that it would stay hidden behind the rain clouds. Fire surged from his snout; a dull red turned to an intense orange. He took a step outside the 'cave,' and water simmered on his back, turning into vapor. None but the sturdiest of flowers could stick to his body. I sucked in moist air through my teeth. "Don't let her come to you. Fire Pillar."

With a deep, guttural growl from deep within his chest, my Soul wielded the power of fire. Beats of warmth coincided with each burning spire that rose from the earth, leaving behind nothing but a smoldering hole the rain rapidly filled in and seeded once again. The closer the Explorer approached, the nearer the flames came to striking her, but she moved with a speed that far exceeded our expectations. Flowers not only helped her jump, but also made it feel like each stride carried her twice as far as it should have. Not only that, but she too could propel herself with Water Sport in short bursts, though it only came from her blue bouquet.

Wide, wide, wide, graze, wide, graze, hit, and she burned for a second before slipping out of the fire, wide—she had made it.

"Hit the chest!" Gardenia grinned.

Already, we'd put up an Iron Defense—water pressurized within Roserade's flower so tightly that half of it turned to foam on her upswing. The Shell Trap would be tight. With unprecedented agility and a measured explosion on one side of his shell, the fire type spun around, and the punch bounced off helplessly against his shell—

A massive detonation rattled the land. Fiery, intense, one that sucked in all the air around both Pokemon and left Roserade burned to a crisp until she stepped back into her rain and darkened, ash-covered leaves turned back to a healthy green. It left us an opportunity to follow, to stick to the Explorer like glue in hopes of not letting her have a moment's respite, but—it was and would be a leap of faith.

"Flamethrower!"

"Extrasensory!"

The two orders were exchanged, but our Pokemon had already begun moving. My Soul lowered himself on all fours, tail curling upward as flames gathered in his mouth and exploded in a wide arc that caught the Explorer off-guard. Her psychic powers were there, but they were paltry, and they failed to contain even the dull orange flame. Yes, we'd been ramping up, hadn't we? The Explorer laughed as more flames engulfed her, as did her trainer, and I felt my face warm.

Not the time.

They lost themselves in a song and dance of dodging and striking each other, though the Explorer dared not venture close. She brought forth jets of water that rivaled a weak Hydro Pump, and we struck her with flames and scorching Dragon Pulses in hopes of destroying her. The earth here was not ours—our attempt at Bulldoze to slow the grass type remained a call unanswered; nature ruled and would rule until at least the Explorer was off the field.

But.

Eventually.

"Let rain and the sun befall them!"

With those words came a drop in my chest and a familiar feeling of doom as the sun lowered itself beneath the rainclouds and brought with it swirling rainbows that stretched far and wide across the skies. Again. It was happening again. I couldn't—no—he would not survive the blast. With a graceful dance, the grass type called upon all under her command—everything the light of the sun touched—and ethereal light turned solid—

I couldn't.

Back into his Pokeball, my Soul went, though I made sure to wait until the blast began. This time, it utterly destroyed Tyranitar's 'cave,' collapsing the stone structure into flower-covered rubble. The instincts as a trainer I'd begun to reawaken had forced me to despite my wants and needs. Roserade couldn't call upon such power multiple times. No, she needed time, just like I did, but for a whole other reason.

I understood now. Understood what my Pokemon had been trying to tell me. But I needed to let myself breathe, to allow my eyes to open and witness something that had been lacking in my existence for time immemorial. To pierce the dense fog I had wrapped around my heart, to lift the curtains upon the spectacle that was my life.

Kindness.

Not to others, though I could use that too, but the softness I had denied myself forever. It was always my fault, my problem, my issues, me, me, me, me—and yes, that was warranted sometimes. A lot of the time. And there was a dangerous path to tread to kindness yet, but had I not been terribly unforgiving? The standard I had shackled myself to after all my sins was high, almost impossibly so, and I would meet it one day, but perhaps—

Perhaps a sprinkle of Kindness would do.

Upon one knee, Electivire appeared, and he rose so quickly, his body spry and young and eager with none of the sluggishness that had plagued my other Pokemon. Tails intertwined with excitement, fingers flexed as they formed into fists, he hopped from side to side and faced the doubly tired Roserade—

A red beam hit the grass type immediately, and Kindness nearly let out an annoyed whir, throwing his hands up before I shushed him and told him to remain, well, kind. It had been ages since he had been in such a fight, one with no lives at stakes, and he was just a little too restless for the Role. The gentleness and calm needed as if he were a balm to my Soul just wasn't there.

But he would do his best, and I would smile at him in turn. Was that not what being kind was like?

One advantage we'd gained turning the field into a wet mess—though that had been exacerbated by the Explorer—was that electricity could spread through these lands quite easily. Already, arcs of it were flying across the field quicker than I could take a breath. Strangely enough, the sun remained, but the rain quickly faded. The Adventurer knew our strengths, and any trainer worth their salt would know not to allow a storm in reach of an electric type.

My opponent waited, and waited, and waited, for the longer she did so, the more water the ground would swallow without the rain to replenish it. Thirty seconds later came a Pokemon I had never seen before.

He moved with a feline grace, sleek and poised, his body slender yet powerful beneath a cloak of deep green fur that shimmered in the light of the sun. His appearance was striking, almost theatrical—his face framed by what looked like petals, forming a mask of soft purples and greens that lent him an air of mystery. He knelt, slowly plucking a purple flower from the ground and snatched it between his teeth.

"Meowscarada," the Adventurer spoke in a warning tone, "this one is fast, faster than nearly anything you've ever faced in a while—"

"Rain Dance and Lightning Bolt!" I yelled with a grin.

Ah, the joys of having her operate on outdated information. A darkened rain cloud of our own materialized far above Kindness, up and up and up until thunder roiled within and struck us down in two seconds. It coalesced as an elongated, thin spike in his hand, and it crackled blue. This was True Lightning, the kind that two of my mentors had thrown against each other atop a mountain like summoning it was effortless, yet it took all of our concentration—

The Adventurer followed up with a "Spikes" that had me frown, but Kindness threw the electricity like a javelin.

Ah. It turned back to a normal yellow mid-flight, but it was far too fast for anything to dodge.

Yet when it hit Meowscarada—

Nothing happened. Not a single hair on the grass type's body was harmed. A thin sheet of dull, brown energy coiled around him like a second set of skin, and tiny little spikes, barely anything worth noting, littered the ground around his feet.

"Flower Trick—Yellow," my opponent ordered.

Flowers her previous Pokemon had planted rose from the earth, each a dull yellow that spun around Meowscarada. The grass type mushed them together, combining them into an abomination of a bouquet that somehow fit and looked beautiful when it shouldn't have, and then came another, and another, and—

What were we doing? I clapped my hands, snapping both Kindness and I out of our confused stupor. This was an attack we'd used against Galactic grunts, and it had done nothing? There must have been some kind of trick, and more were coming. I knew her modus operandi by now; I expected the barrage of yellow flowers to explode into spores of some kind.

The… Magician sent them forth, all at the same time. They flew in a wide arc until they suddenly sped up midway through with a flick of the grass type's fingers—

"Protect!"

Yellow pollen—not spores, it was far too powdery and clumpy—burst out of each bouquet with every explosion, and they swirled around Kindness in the form of a tornado. Undeterred, he moved, a herculean effort while still maintaining his Protect. As soon as he was out of the smoke, he fired off a quick Thunderbolt to test the Magician's defenses, but once again, a spike slid out of beneath his cape, and the attack did nothing. I could see the shape of it now, how they needed to use a ground type move to gather a second skin that shielded them from electricity.

Look at your feet, the Magician goaded.

Shit, I'd been too focused on him—a bouquet camouflaged between the countless flowers exploded in another swarm of yellow pollen, and Honey quickly flickered back with Radiant Leap before I could blink. Yet, he coughed, grimacing as he waved his hand in front of his nose and mouth and scraped some of the pollen off him.

He hurled, cheeks swelling with what I assumed was vomit, and he puked all over the ground, staining the flowers in a sickly yellow-green bile. He was so rattled that his localized Rain Dance ended, dissolving in the wind. A seed came next, landing softly on the electric type's head like a feather, and instead of the Leech Seed I expected, out burst a strange, red thorn that pricked the side of Kindness' face and drew a tiny amount of blood.

I wanted to ask if he was okay, but that would be doing him a disservice. The fun he had expected had been snuffed out, smothered in trickery and deception. We needed to find our footing, but as it turned out, making an Electivire nauseous to the point of being unable to move was a fantastic way of taking away his main advantage: his speed. He tried moving, but each step was accompanied by a grumble in his stomach and more vomit, and somehow, he kept spewing out even if he must have run out of food a long time ago. The best he managed to do was pull up a Protect to stall other Flower Tricks or Energy Balls or Magical Leaves in hopes of outlasting the nausea, but it was not letting up. They knew that eventually, we'd get too tired to keep up the Protect.

Time to improvise.

"Fire Swift! Stagger them!"

He turned his head back at me like I was insane.

Maybe I was. We'd never used that move, after all, only Electric Swift, but as it turned out, without electric type attacks, we were horribly equipped to deal with foes that kept their distance. We just had Electric Swift, which hadn't seen serious use in months.

He laughed and thrust his arms forward; a cluster of bright, golden stars erupted from his palms as soon as the shimmering green barrier fell around him. I knew the Adventurer's theme. Knew she worked well with the sun and rain, and that her next move would be water type to keep her Magician safe.

Case in point—

"Chilling Water," she said.

The burning stars carved through the air, trailing streams of fire in their wake like comets streaking across the battlefield. The heat distorted the air around them as they swirled and circled, faster and faster, honing in on the Magician at different speeds. Once again, the attack from the Magician was weak, only there to protect instead of strike. Cold, frozen waters sprouted from the ground at his feet, and the first Swift barely harmed the grass type—

I snapped my finger. "Thunder."

Electricity crackled, coiling around his tails with pulsating energy. It shot out of his hands, and the earth around him shattered with the power brought forth by Thunder. The Magician's eyes widened, and his trainer laughed, knowing that there was no time. That wasn't for lack of trying—the Magician's cape flapped, and more spikes fell through, but here was the thing about their trick.

It was fast, yes. I could see the second set of skin crawling up the Meowscarada's legs like creeping vines, slithering beneath his fur in a shimmering, translucent layer. It spread quickly, molding over his muscles, sleek and almost invisible, like a living armor that bent the light around it.

But we were faster.

The rest of the fiery stars collided with her, as did the enormous beam of electricity—

I squinted as the Adventurer recalled her Pokemon. It felt almost unfair, how quick she'd been on the draw, but the Magician was one to fight at a distance, and the space between him and Kindness had been large enough to allow them respite, though only barely. Teeth gnashing, I inhaled a deep breath to calm myself down. It was unlike me to get so excited, so taken by the idea of victory and the ultimate triumph. The Adventurer had saved her switches for a reason—it allowed her more maneuverability in the end game of the fight.

What now, dear challenger? Back into the Explorer? It was a possibility now that Kindness was afflicted by crippling nausea and couldn't move very well.

The manner in which she grabbed her next Pokeball was so casual I nearly found myself forgetting I was fighting for my very existence. It lolled in her hand, but she didn't wait long.

With a guttural groan, the Pokeball split open, and the air around us dropped several degrees in an instant. Twisted pieces of bark, blackened like obsidian and linked by the thickest of shadows. He was covered in deep cracks that pulsed with an eerie glow from within. Its eye—a single, hollow orb of crimson—flickered to life, staring forward with a gaze that seemed to pierce the soul. The creature's crooked form shifted with a creaking groan, each movement quick and deliberate; staring at its six legs was like observing an insect crawling up a wall.

I had imagined a Trevenant would be larger. This one, though. This one? He carried with him a tree half-grown, allowing him to scuttle across the field at high speeds. Wherever he stepped, flowers died—

"Bulldoze! Slow him down and strike!" I yelled.

"Phantom Force," the Adventurer countered, hands on her hips.

The earth shook, spreading cracks like spiderwebs across the fertile dirt and kicking up flowers, but Trevenant flickered out of existence, immediately reappearing leagues ahead with a screech—the sound of agony, of many men and women in pain who had gotten lost in a forest. It was enough to make Electivire jump out of his skin, and the Thunder that came out next frayed to the side and grazed the Trevenant's trunk. Fine. Fine. Let them get close, then; it wasn't like we could battle at a distance with the Magician's tricks hampering us. The ghost left behind him a trail of wilting flowers, and the essence of life itself seemed to be absorbed into the Trevenant's body. I knew what he was now, the last piece of the puzzle in the Adventurer's party. One they only used in the worst of circumstances, for they were warriors of Good who gave and shared, and he was a villain who only took, wielding death and drawing from the earth, leeching away from vitality as if it were his birthright.

Warlock.

"Dig and Confuse Ray!" the Adventurer ordered.

Dig? Once they got close, the Warlock sank into the ground as if it were a pond and reappeared only three seconds later behind Kindness, sprouting like a new tree with a light in front of his eye that hurt to look at for too long, and screeched.

Words spilled out of my mouth. "Fire Punch!"

A vicious backhand struck Trevenant, cracking and scorching parts of his tree even blacker than it already was. The Confuse Ray went wide, fizzling out in the sky, but the Warlock rooted himself with Ingrain, not in the earth, but on Kindness like a parasite. Enough electricity to blind me through closed eyes burst out of Kindness' fur, but it would take more than that to take down the Warlock. Electivire attempted to strike with Fire Punch, but the ghost's body seemed to endlessly shift around him, and all he managed to do was hit his own shoulder. He was spinning around in a dance of death, face twisting with the need to puke.

Thunder. Thunder. Thunder. By the third one, the Warlock wrenched himself free, scuttling across the field like a twisted marionette, leaving another trail of dying flowers in his wake, but not before leaving behind a second Confuse Ray that managed to enter Kindness' body and rendered his case even worse. He could barely even stand straight by now, his balance unraveling with each misstep until his legs buckled beneath him, and once again, he hurled on the ground.

I grabbed his Pokeball, unsure of whether to recall him or to save it for the last, but I had no idea whether the nausea would stay—

"Mean Look."

Mistake. My stomach twisted in knots, and the Trevenant glared; they were hollow pits of darkened crimson radiating malice and glee at the trap sprung. For a second, the world shrunk to just those eyes, as if everything else around me had never mattered, and I could only hear the sound of my beating heart. The fragility of the human condition. There was no point in even attempting to recall the electric type now.

Despite this, the damage we'd done to the Warlock was actually substantial, and he did not seem to be able to regenerate any of it unlike the other members of her team. Even Meowscarada had made use of Roserade's field of flowers to trickle in energy within himself, even if it was subtle.

Wait.

This made…

The taking of energy for seemingly naught, the endless scuttling to cover as much ground as possible, the crippling of arguably the Pokemon who she found the most difficult to deal with over the course of the last few minutes with both the Magician and the Warlock as if she'd been playing the long game.

The Trap with a capital T.

The Adventurer cackled—she must have seen the look of realization on my face. I knew it was coming; I just thought it would have been with the Explorer, her most trusted Pokemon! A final clash between her and my Soul, perfectly aligned with the story where both would finally go all out—

Therein lay my weakness.

"Remembrance!" she screamed as one with the Warlock, and a shadow came to curse the world.

Flowers and plants did not have souls, but they were living beings all the same. The air thickened with a haunting silence as the shadow consumed the field. The sun disappeared behind it first, snuffed out like a candle in a storm. The sky followed, swallowed by an impenetrable blackness that spread over the battlefield like ink flooding water. It wasn't gradual—it was instant. One blink, and everything vanished into a void so complete it felt suffocating. The earth beneath their feet might as well have ceased to exist; there was no sense of ground, no horizon, no distant shapes to give the illusion of space. The field was gone, consumed by the absolute pitch of nothingness save for them.

Everything was so quiet. I was reminded of the Darkest Day, but this was no true nothingness. Hidden in the void were moving shapes and whispering voices.

Trevenant's body twitched.

Kindness clenched at his head and began to scream until his eyes rolled back onto his head, and he fell unconscious. I did not even understand what had just happened, what he had just seen. What that attack had just been.

I waited.

Waited.

And waited.

But the void didn't clear. In fact, it didn't even diminish. Throughout this battle, our backs had been against the wall; we had conceded much of the field as soon as Reflection had fallen, even if we had fought back on occasion, and unfortunately, it looked like the void was here to stay.

It was in times like these, where the dark felt insurmountable and despair weighed you down like a mountain, that the most delusional of Hopes sprang up like a stubborn weed through cracked pavement. It was a flicker in the void, a faint glimmer in my heart that dared to defy the oppressive shadows. Had I given up in my countless fights, my tantrums against the world? The battle with Saturn, where I had been outnumbered by numbers too high to count, and it was as if I'd been but a single girl and her friends holding a knife against an army?

No.

You fought because your life mattered. You fought because the flickering flame of existence, however dim, demanded to be tended to.

And in this case, you fought because it might, believe it or not, be fun.

It was up to her to renew Hope—up to her to be Hope. You fought, you fought, you fought; your skin was cut, your bones were broken, your teeth were knocked out, your mouth was bloodied, your hair was torn out, but at the end of it all, the sun would still rise in the morning and the moon would still shine in the sky at night.

There she was. Hope sparkled the moment she popped out of her Pokeball, up into the sky, and her eyes sharpened—

"You're Hope, not Violence!" I warned her as loud as possible, hoping my voice would make it. We had prepared multiple roles. Redemption would have been the last, but the story had not progressed at all that way. "Get in character—it's just you and Sun—my Soul left!"

They didn't sharpen—they softened as she began to laugh, even in the midst of the darkness. The Adventurer opened her mouth, but I could not hear her scream out her next order. The Warlock hummed, his body brimming with whatever this void was made of, and it swarmed Hope everywhere she went. Since the color was black on black, discerning its proximity became an exercise in futility. Many shadows collided with the dense panels of psychic energy, ricocheting harmlessly away, yet others wove through the defenses with unsettling ease. With urgency creeping into her movements, she quickened her pace, acutely aware of the danger lurking in the inky void.

And yet, she laughed. A laugh of childlike wonder with every hit as she weaved bright orange mystic flames around her and her fur slicked back—

Boom.

I couldn't believe my eyes and ears. The shockwave was invisible in the void, but its sound was undeniable. She'd broken the sound barrier—Hope weaved in between attacks, growing more comfortable in the environment until she was nothing but a nearly indiscernible blur of white against pitch black.

Yet the Warlock could be anywhere and everywhere at once, traveling throughout his dominion without the usual delay of Phantom Force. He easily dodged the Mystical Fire that was sent in a concentrated jet above him and kept harassing us with the dark. Wind started to pick up, ominous and bearing with it muffled screams of the fallen. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see spirits just like they were in Distortion, all under the Warlock's command. They took the form of Will-O-Wisps, Confuse Rays, Night Shades, and nearly-invisible Hexes left as traps in the sky Hope would occasionally run into.

"Cut!" I smiled.

A barrel roll to shake off the oil-like darkness, a pass through a zone pressurized by Extrasensory, and Hope once again broke the sound barrier as she swooped down toward the possessed tree. The ghost raised one of his skeletal, wooden hands, and it suddenly grew twice, five, tenfold in length and girth, all while darkness orbited around it. Wood hammer, but ghostly, I noted. They were hoping to trade a good hit, maybe to break a wing, as Togekiss slowed down to charge up Moonblast, but—

That was the thing. We were not going to use Moonblast.

An invisible force borne of belief cut across the Warlock's joint, where his arm remained the thinnest, and it fell clean off of the grass type's trunk. Then another, and another, a dozen cuts spread across his body until Princess made a pass and rained fire on his body. The Warlock's pained shriek pierced the air, his fury igniting a furious blaze within his singular eye. The Ominous Wind intensified, swirling around him with a vengeance, as countless curses hurled at Princess surged forward, propelled not by Trevenant's own will but by the agitated spirits that answered his wrath. Just as hope swelled in my heart, Hope ramped up and kept throwing attack after attack, using her wicked cuts to keep the Warlock on the backfoot. Fire, fire, more fire, carried by gusts of Fairy Wind and riding Air Slashes and imbedded in her Cuts and by the Legendaries, her pace was unheard of for the Adventurer's Trevenant, because the focus needed to destroy her just wasn't there.

Blows were exchanged, as they always were. It was not a one-sided fight, but an evenly-matched one.

"Dazzling Gleam and Moonblast!"

It was Light against Dark, Hope against Despair—Togekiss shone, radiant and pure, her resplendence imbuing my heart with an unshakeable faith in her, and she grew blinding, banishing the darkness around her with each pulse. With a thousand screams, the void recoiled as if scorched, retreating further with each pulse of her light, and soon she stood alone, a beacon in a void that once threatened to consume us all.

And upon that beacon of radiant light, a moon was born. It started small, just a shimmering orb of pale, silver light cradled within Hope's grasp, but it grew swiftly, swelling in size with each second, greedily drinking the light afforded to it. A thousand tiny tears in the air surrounded the shimmering sphere, and void swirled around its gravitational pull until it was banished at its center.

It was pure, unblemished perfection—the fusion of two unwavering beliefs, a hope and a prayer to everything that defined us. The Warlock was pulled up, incapable of sticking to the void currently being banished. Already, I could see slivers of color, but—

"Distortion Explosion!" The Adventurer's muffled voice made it through the fading dark.

The vast remaining darkness that had smothered the battlefield began to collapse inward, sucked back into a single point in the sky, peeling off the ground and invisible walls like paint. Shadows coiled and twisted, pulling away from the earth and sky as if reality itself was unraveling. The once suffocating blackness now swirled into a vortex made of deceased flowers, tightening into a pinprick that distorted everything around it, even light.

Three orbs in the sky—the moon, having absorbed or cut ample darkness and weakening; the sun, having remained, but faded due to Trevenant not replenishing it; a black hole borne of distortion outgrowing both. They hung there for a second.

And then they erupted.

Words could not describe what I was looking at. Shapes blurred, as if the fabric of reality had been stretched too thin, threatening to unravel at the seams. The moonlight bled into the void, and the void bled into the moonlight, indistinguishable yet fighting to exist. The barrier around the fight threatened to shatter, and I heard a voice desperately call for another psychic, whatever the hell that was supposed to mean. I felt the impact in my bones; the collision of light and dark seared itself into my vision, etching patterns I could barely comprehend, lingering until I blinked them away, though their afterimage clung like a shadow in the back of my mind.

The moon and black hole were gone.

The battlefield was covered in deceased flowers, though none of them were torn to shreds or had even a single blemish—they were all just a mixture of pitch black and purple at their center, and they carried with them whispers from beyond this world. Not even the corners had been spared—every inch of these plains had been covered in death. The Ominous Wind had ceased, as had any other attacks. The Warlock was left a burned and exhausted mess, his form barely recognizeable and his shadow barely clinging to his tree. Hope was very much the same, a bleeding heap on the ground coughing ghostly energy out of her lungs.

The sun?

The sun remained ever-present.

A final note.

Togekiss was unable to move, but she remained conscious and thinking. In between pained grunts were short bursts of laughter as she eyed her fallen opponent. She did not boast or make fun of him. She giggled at the fight, at the opportunity she had been given to battle a peer and see it through. And thus, with the laughs reverberating across these dead grasslands, she allowed herself to believe in me and my Soul.

Hope, battered but unbroken, raised her head toward the heavens, her once-glorious wings trembling as they stretched outward. The light of a star shimmered in her eyes, and she drew breath, though each was laced with a pained rasp. Her voice, soft yet resolute, echoed through the desolate field, gentle yet laced with purpose.

Stars above, I beseech thee! Hope yelled as the Adventurer recalled her Warlock. Let thy celestial grace descend upon our humble vessel, for though I falter, Hope itself shall not fall. My eyes widened; she tried turning toward me, bearing through the pain of a broken body. Soul, I offer unto thee this wish, that it may guide us through the dark and heal what has been torn asunder. Let this be my clarion call to fate!

With a single deep breath, her entire body began to glow from within, the light so subtle at first, it seemed like nothing more than the glint of the sun on her feathers. But then, like the first flicker of a kindling flame, it grew. It ascended, higher and higher, casting long shadows across the barren field below. The radiance pulsed gently, growing as it soared above the darkness, as if the very heavens themselves had answered her call.

And thus, Togekiss fell.

"Ha…hahaha!"

Laughter spilled out of me. I was losing, and laughing! Mirth so strong my legs trembled beneath me and I found myself running out of breath, coughing and desperate for air.

I was Grace Pastel. Pokemon Trainer.

A fire, lit.

I understood now. By the time I came to, I realized the Magician was back on the field, this Meowscarada Pokemon I had never seen before today. How fascinating his attacks and tricks were, how I wanted to learn absorb explore decipher grasp comprehend replicate embody and master everything I had seen and done here on this wonderful day. I had faced my demons, battled my inner self, and had come out so much stronger for it that every vein within me was lit with the flame of ambition; every inch of my skin flared up to a feverish temperature. My body was alive, dripping with sweat; my eyes were darting around, analyzing everything they could find; my breaths were shallow, yet my body was brimming with insatiable hunger. And it was wonderful, and it was beautiful, and it was exhilarating, and I could laugh and laugh and laugh about it for as long as needed.

Unfortunately, I'd nearly run out of time—not that it wouldn't have been the correct strategy, anyway, given Wish. Throat pained due to the throes of laughter, I released my Soul onto the field for a third and final time.

"Sunshine!" I remembered now, and his name rang out like a thunderclap as it echoed through the air. "You're the last; our backs are against the wall! A Wish is coming—"

Gardenia moved. "Flower Trick—Black!"

"Flame Charge and Shell Trap! Close the distance!"

That was what he'd been waiting for all day. Blueish-white flames erupted from his scales, tearing out in wild bursts like they couldn't be contained any longer and burning the weak paralysis out of him. They swirled around him in chaotic, unpredictable arcs, bending and snapping in every direction. The sound—oh, Legendaries, the sound of it felt like a continuous explosion of flame. It was a Soul reignited.

He retreated into his shell and blew up in a blast that carried him up, each strike of his tail making him speed up until he warped the air around him with speed and flame, and he left behind him a trail of fire. The Magician had been gathering the darkened flowers—I was still surprised at Gardenia's sheer tactical foresight to be able to use these dead flowers—but the sheer momentum at which we'd come made the dragon slam into Meowscarada like a freight train, blowing up every bouquet in his way and collapsing the ones behind him. They exploded in a burst of black pollen that shivered and spread cold throughout, but it was immediately burned away by fire.

No. Fire.

It was Fire. White and pure, flickering with blue light at its edges. Both Sunshine and the Magician tumbled forward from the collision, but the dragon refused to let go. Flames crackled and surged as he held on tight, his claws searing into the Magician's throat. The Meowscarada thrashed wildly, limbs flailing against the inferno consuming him, but Sunshine's grip was unrelenting. Fire blazed across the dragon's body, wild and merciless, as he lifted his opponent off the ground and—

"Fire Blast."

He was burned to a crisp and did so screaming, which you could barely hear, anyway. The Magician had always been more of a supportive Pokemon than anything, an anchor meant to cripple more than win, so there was no way he'd stand up to Sunshine at his peak.

Not that the Flower Trick hadn't done anything. When Sunshine let go of him, and Gardenia recalled Meowscarada, he turned his head wildly and called out that he couldn't see anything but vague shapes and lights.

Blindness. He had blinded us, and it would be perfect for the Explorer to camouflage herself as soon as she brought life back onto the field!

Out came Roserade, the explorer of a thousand lands, and who would explore another countless regions. She came back gracefully with flowers blooming at her feet, though she instantly noticed the heat and shrunk until she called forth a cold rain and the field was covered with clouds. The majority of it evaporated around Sunshine, but for the flames to be so hot, they needed to be concentrated on him. The vast majority of the battlefield was still liveable, and flowers bloomed once again wherever the rain fell.

"Take away the sun—all in on the rain—"

No. "No!" I screamed, my body drenched in sweat. "Wrest it away from them!"

It was a futile attempt. We knew Sunny Day, but they knew the Sun in and out, and our skill wasn't enough to actually keep it there. All we'd done was slow it. The Explorer held her blue bouquet forward and a jet of pressurized water hit Sunshine in the chest, speeding up the process. The artificial sun dipped further and further in the sky with each wave of her red bouquet. The jet grew more powerful as it did so, growing in intensity and width in line with the intensifying rain.

Even if we burned too hot for her flowers to take hold, it would be a slow and pathetic loss. An anticlimactic end to the greatest and most exciting fight I had and would most likely ever experience; it would be a story smothered by tactics.

We would not allow it.

What did it take to achieve victory?

It meant to push yourself beyond what you believed to be possible, even if your body broke apart. It meant letting the fire of competition devour you whole, without ever burning out—because you were endless, inexhaustible, an unquenchable force that would never allow the flame to burn out and die again. You were a boundless reservoir of willpower, capable of stoking your inner blaze again and again, over and over for as long as you needed. To stop was never an option. You were the engine of your own greatness, and as long as you moved, the fire within you would keep roaring.

Did you see it? The Wish bearing down from the heavens, carrying with it a message from each of my parts.

Yes. He saw it, a light less bright than the hidden sun, but a light nonetheless.

It was time.

"Touch the skies and reach for the stars, my beloved Soul." I held my breath. It was almost scary to utter it, like a forbidden sentence. "You Are A Star." To her, it sounded like praise, but to us? Oh, to us, it was everything.

I knew him, and he knew me, because we were each other. He understood his task immediately. It would be grueling and agonizing, but it would all be worth it. Do not go gentle into the night; do not let the flame die out.

He shot into the sky, each explosion angled nearly perfectly. Of course, to Gardenia, it looked like we'd overshot our mark. Wish was, after all, a small light that was fuzzy and easy to miss for a blind, normally landbound dragon that was heavily wounded, barely able to walk without propelling himself with Shell Trap.

We didn't need to receive it. Princess' words alone had been enough. My Soul shot past the Wish, and Gardenia's eyes widened as it fell to the ground and fizzled out. We were not ready to use We Are A Star quite yet, but what if we had a crutch?

"Remove your Sunny Day!" she cried out.

Ah, she'd been greedy, had she not? To take it out of reach instead of taking it out of the equation just in case she found an opening to use whatever that rainbow blast of life was. All battle long, she had nurtured and cultivated the sun, and it would have been a waste just to disappear it, wouldn't it have been? I waited, and waited, and waited—

"Shell Smash!"

One more explosion shattered his shell, splitting it in two down the middle, and boundless energy leaked out of him the moment he sunk into the artificial sun even faster. Where was her bloody rainbow now, I thought with another laugh, and the sun turned to a scorching orange, to an elegant blue, to a brilliant white that turned the earth below a monochrome expanse. The blazing orb swelled in size before crashing to the ground, and tendrils spread throughout the arena. Solar flares mixed in with draconic energy, each gargantuan in size as the entire battlefield caught ablaze and all that was left was a scorching, burning hell that Roserade couldn't help but look at even as she caught on fire.

Gardenia uttered something, but the words were devoured by the overwhelming roar of the sun, and her starter stood resolute. She bore the brunt of the heat as the star slowly approached and raised her left bouquet, spinning it around herself in a graceful arc, calling forth every last drop of rain and moisture lingering in the vapor, the clouds, and the earth beneath her. The air shimmered with a dance of droplets, each one responding to her call, converging into a magnificent sphere of water that grew in size, tiny at first, like a whisper of hope, then swelling larger and larger until it eclipsed the very sun itself. This aqueous shield enveloped her, a living cocoon that housed new life within its translucent embrace. Tender blades of grass sprang forth, coiling vines spiraled upwards, and vibrant flowers burst into bloom.

The moment hung in the air like a taut string, each heartbeat a countdown to the inevitable collision.

The thread snapped.

Fire met Life, and the world went white.

The sound detonated with the wrath and light of supernovae. It surged forth in waves, each pulse a violent crescendo that tore through the air as if the sound itself had a physical mass—I groaned, clutching at my ear as soon as my hearing aid went haywire, and I allowed the explosion to run its course. It seemed to lower in intensity in sync with my breaths and the realization that the fight was over. Yet I wasn't nervous about the results, not even a little bit. It was satisfaction that had overwhelmed my heart. My legs wobbled from under me, and I fell on my butt with a laugh. My clothes were covered in sweat, and my vision was still covered in sunspots whenever I blinked.

That had been so much fun that I wanted to go again.

Both Fire and Life had dissipated, now. What remained was Roserade burned to a crisp and face down in the scorched earth, and Sunshine on his back, but—

Awake. Awake and aware and conscious and whatever the hell that implied?! Had I won? I'd won, hadn't I? I threw my head up and lay flat against the ground, struggling for each breath.

And thus, the story ended. I'd lost the thread a bit as it went on, but…

A rainbow hung in the air.

It was raining.

—

I didn't know for how long I hung there, but eventually I heard steps coming up my platform.

"Well, well, well. Look at you," Gardenia said casually. It was actually incredible how carefree it was, even if she was radiating with a smile and she looked refreshed. "I thought you might have passed out. Heard it happened with Candice."

I groaned, eyes shutting in embarrassment. "That was once." I glanced toward the field, and she said something I didn't catch. "What?" I asked.

"Need help getting up?"

Slowly, it dawned upon me that I wasn't hearing properly.

…my hearing aid might have broken from being overwhelmed by the sounds of that explosion.

"Ye—" wait, I was way too sweaty for this. I didn't want her to touch my icky hands. "No, I'll be fine." With a grunt, I pushed myself off the ground and stared down at Sunshine, who couldn't even move beyond the smallest of twitches. His body was burned, something I'd never seen before; his scales had been charred black. "Thank you, Sunshine!" I yelled, cupping my hands, though my voice didn't sound like much. He annoyingly waved a hand—I could tell he wanted back in his ball to not have to deal with the pain as much, but didn't want to say it out loud. With a tired laugh, I recalled him and got up.

My legs felt like jelly. I noticed two Kadabra carrying a third by levitating her in the air down where the… referee had been.

It was probably about time I got upgraded to the ones they used for the Conference, wasn't it? Or maybe a single Mr. Mime—though those weren't in any Gyms.

Gardenia pursed her lips, a single hand remaining on her hip. "That was a wonderful fight, Grace. I know a lot more about you now—though I was a little confused." Oh God, she hadn't understood any of it, had she? My eyes suddenly found my feet and the ground to be the most appealing thing in the world. "Hey, no need to look so embarrassed. I needed it too—I rarely have fights this fun. I was smiling the entire second half."

The next words spilled out anyway. "I was—it's weird, I know, but I was making a story. Uh, to find myself and my love for battling again—"

"Oh, I got that. The story bit, at least, even if I didn't understand the plot much. The dragon hibernating in his cave, the names you gave them, the way you focused on ice at the start and slowly transitioned to only fire by the end as a metaphor for passion worked really well, I'd say, and both were effective against my grass types. Things like this can be contrived, but you made it work and even beat Rose!" The Gym Leader looked me up and down. "I didn't take you for a theatre kid."

"I don't do theatre…"

She threw her head up and laughed. "You don't have to do theatre to encompass what that means, Grace. Also, that was some wonderful sandbagging from you all fight. Usually the tactic's too risky, but there was a big gap in information between Byron and this battle. That Flamethrower from your Tyranitar you saved until you could secure a takedown, especially. Your Claydol was really annoying and baited us into using Superpower, which is an all-or-nothing move for us and left us vulnerable. And by the Legendaries, it was really obvious with Turtonator, but I think it made me feel too secure—and I didn't expect him to fly and jump into a Sunny Day to take it over! I've never seen that before!" She beamed at me like the sun.

Gardenia continued to praise me for my prowess, though honestly the sandbagging stuff had been completely unintentional. I'd actually caught her off-guard due to her having field control the vast majority of the fight and being able to spring her Trevenant trap on me. Once that had happened, she'd actually believed her win to be assured, and it wasn't often that she was wrong about something.

"You can date Maymay, by the way," she added. "I figured I'd let you know."

Both my hands unconsciously grabbed on one of hers, and I shook it wildly. "Oh my God, thank you, thank you, thank you! I won't disappoint you—I'll be good to her! And I—and I love her a whole lot, and I'll make her the happiest she's ever been, and—" The fact that I was touching her with moist hands sunk in, and I recoiled. "Sorry…"

She snorted. "It's fine."

"Do—do you have time for another fight? I still have Angel available—that's my Tangrowth," I mumbled. "Of course, I'd bring my Pokemon to the Center first… oh wait."

Would Sunshine be out in time before the Byron battle? What about Princess? I felt my stomach drop and audibly gulped. Fuck, I'd gotten way too into the fight! And I'd need a new story, too! I'd taken the one I'd been supposed to act out and adapted it here, but it'd be incredibly unsatisfying to hit nearly the same plot beats again.

"I'd wait before that if I were you." Gardenia nudged her head forward. It was only now that I realized we'd been walking toward the door she came out of and not mine. She grabbed her phone while I waited there, trying to workshop a whole new strategy and story I'd be able to use against Byron, possibly without Sunshine, until the door opened. "You're late," Gardenia groused with a hint of frustration.

I gaped at the heavy-muscled, burgundy-haired man as he scratched the back of his head and leaned against the handle of his shovel. What in the world was Byron doing here?

"Don't glare at me, lass. I'm clearly sick, as you know. It's been the nastiest of colds." He put a fist in front of his mouth and let out the most exaggerated, fake cough of all time. "And I'm a busy man. Sorry if I can't be right on time everywhere I go."

Gardenia rolled her eyes, but I didn't miss her smirk. "Well, go ahead, then."

"Yes, yes." Byron got closer to me and brusquely clapped my shoulder. "Grace Pastel! That was some wonderful battling from you; I was watching it from in there!" He pointed back with his thumb. "I see the lesson I imparted onto you during our own fight worked wonders. Pokedex and ID please."

"What? What for?"

"You defeated my substitute in combat; what do you think? It's for your badge, money, and TM."

I blinked at him.

"What?"

His face scrunched up in confusion, and he rubbed his beard. "Gardenia, did she not know?" His fellow Gym Leader let out an awkward laugh. "Heavens above!" Byron laughed, slapping his knee, and waggled his finger at her. "Oh, that's a good one! That's—" another laugh, louder this time.

Gardenia clicked her tongue, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Hurry up and give it to her so I can explain!"

"Substitute?" I mumbled.

"Yes. I'm sick, you see." He wasn't sick at all. He just looked a little tired from work. "And my Gym is undergoing plenty of renovations before we properly open, so I'm afraid it wasn't useable. Now, Pokedex and ID, please." I absent-mindedly handed it to him, and he fiddled with it for a moment. "You're now the owner of the Mine Badge, and I've transferred eighty-thousand dollars to your account. You've also got access to the reusable Flash Cannon TM." When I just looked up at him in silence, he tried smiling at me. "You've got eight badges now! Be proud!"

"But I already beat Gardenia once for my second badge!" I yelled.

"Oh boy," he sighed. "My job here's done; I've got to head back to work. I'll see you later, lass." He nodded at Gardenia and waved at me. He whistled and left, calmly walking away from us as he twirled his shovel in his hand.

He just left!

"Is—is this real?" I asked. The badge was right there on my ID with my stupid picture! It had somewhat of a geometric design with three diamond-shaped facets the color of molten amber embedded in a metallic blue backdrop.

"It is. Believe me, I would have told you, but Maymay said it'd be a bad idea and that you'd either have said no because you didn't want to disappoint me, or you would have been swallowed up by the pressure of the fight and collapsed halfway through. If you would have lost, we wouldn't have told you anything. Anyway, let me explain. That Ferrothorn was one of Byron's, and Byron's Gym was registered as open for the duration of the battle, which I'm sure will have people asking questions. All of this was kind of a legal loophole…" she kept going, explaining the legality of it all, but it was all Kalosian to me. Not that I could pay attention anyway.

Maylene had come up with this?

"Now, I would have battled you anyway. What I said about needing to know more about you was true. No badge would have come with it—oh."

I was crying.

They were happy tears. And confused. Very confused.

"Why are you he—helping me?" I sobbed, wiping my face. "I ha—haven't even done a—anything deserving of this!"

"Because I—we—" she sighed, not knowing what to say for once. "I'm sorry. Oh, Arceus, please don't cry. Not now. I—do you need tissues? Wait, I don't have tissues on me. Uh, here take this." She grabbed the short cape on her back and held it out for me.

I sobbed even harder. "I—I can't use your cape."

"Uh, it's more of a cloak than a cape—but please dry your tears. I don't want to look like I did something!"

Her fear puzzled me, but I was in no state to think or care. I still didn't use her cloak, and instead resorted to the bottom of my own shirt. An unknown number of minutes passed until the door opened again.

This time, it was Maylene that came out with a smile.

"Are you guys done? Who won—" the words died in her throat when she saw me. "Nia!" Maylene ran over to us and pulled me away from her friend. "What did you say to her?"

"Nothing, she—"

"Nothing," I sniffled. "It's just the badge. I didn't expect…" she cradled my face, wiped the few remaining tears off my cheek, and exhaled in relief. "It was your idea?" I asked.

"Yeah. I hope you're not mad. I felt bad keeping you in the dark."

I let out an ugly crying laugh. "That's why you asked me so much stuff about today. Stupid. I should have known."

"Hey, I could have been worried about your battle with Byron, for all you knew," she said. "And you fell for it, so who's the real winner here?"

I glanced up at her pink eyes and crooked smile. "Arceus, I love you," I sighed, melting into her with a hug she eagerly returned, even while whispering a complaint about Gardenia being right here. "Thank you so much for doing this for me."

"I'd do anything for you." My heart squeezed, but in a wonderful way. "And thank Nia, too. She agreed without much convincing from me."

"Thank you, Gardenia. For, uh, everything."

She waved a hand dismissively. "It was a lot of fun."

"Arceus, what is Poketch going to say?" All of these plans and marketing for my rematch with Byron were meaningless now. "I have to tell Melody about this…"

"That's your liaison, right?" Gardenia asked. I nodded. "Those new cameras I talked about? I was recording the fight. Won't be uploaded unless you give me the okay."

Oh. That helped a lot—there being no footage would be the first hurdle to clear. Then I'd have to deal with people possibly thinking this was favoritism because I was close to Maylene. People never battled the same Gym Leader twice, and five out of six Pokemon had been Gardenia's—

Maylene gently flicked my nose. "Just enjoy the moment and stop worrying for a sec, okay dummy? I'm skipping work the rest of today to hang out with you. My Gym Trainers are handling battles."

"Fine." She was right. I'd won against Gardenia while she'd used her starter! I was going to the Conference! "Maymay." Once again, I looked directly into her eyes. I hadn't thought it possible to love someone this much. "I think I'm ready for the next step."

I grabbed onto my girlfriend's hand tightly.

A/N: Sorry about the delay. It's been a while since I've written one of these, so I was a little rusty.

---

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[Misting]

That was awesome. I'm sure I'll be pondering the social repercussions and how her sponsorship will handle this later, that was too awesome.

 

[Soussouni]

Spoiler: Team

Togekiss/Princess (Hustle) - Pound, Sweet Kiss, Growl, Headbutt, Fairy Wind, Ancient Power, Extrasensory, Thunder Wave, Air Cutter, Wish, Psychic, Shadow Ball, Dazzling Gleam, Moonblast, Charge Beam, Air Slash, Mystical Fire, Tri-Attack, Nasty Plot, Defog

Jellicent/Buddy (Water Absorb) - Bubblebeam, Night Shade, Absorb, Water Sport, Water Pulse, Hex, Poison Sting, Mist, Acid Armor, Shadow Ball, Recover, Brine, Whirlpool, Hydro Pump, Water Spout, Acid, Will-O-Wisp, Ice Beam, Taunt, Scald, Boil, Freeze, Protect, Ice Blade, Rain Dance, Extrasensory

Electivire/Honey (Motor Drive) - Thundershock, Swift, Elemental Swift, Thunder Punch, Charge, Leer, Ice Punch, Thunderbolt, Discharge, Fire Punch, Protect, Cross Chop, Thunder, Low-Kick, Screech, Radiant Leap, Static Shield, Bulldoze, Hammer Arm, Rain Dance, Lightning Bolt

Tangrowth/Angel (Chlorophyll) - Vine Whip, Absorb, Mega Drain, Stun Spore, Bind, Poison Powder, Leech Seed, Ancient Power, Power Whip, Knock Off, Sunny Day, Giga Drain, Sleep Powder, Solar Beam, Solar Blade, Brick Break, Ingrain, Bulldoze

Tyranitar/Sweetheart (Sand Stream) - Leer, Tackle, Horn Attack, Rock Throw, Payback, Stomping Tantrum, Smack Down, Bite, Rock Slide, Crunch, Sandstorm, Iron Defense, Dragon Pulse, Iron Head, Earthbreaker, Aerial Ace, Stone Edge, Dark Pulse, Rock Polish, Surf, Earthquake, Ice Fang, Flamethrower

Turtonator/Sunshine (Shell Armor) - Smog, Ember, Smokescreen, Incinerate, Iron Defense, Flamethrower, Shell Trap, Dragon Pulse, Bulldoze, Scorching Sands, Rock Tomb, Body Slam, Flash Cannon, Solar Beam, Rapid Spin, Scale Shot, Iron Tail, Focus Blast, Sunny Day, Fire Pillar, Flame Charge, Heat Crash, Fire Blast, Shell Smash

Claydol/Cassianus (Levitate) - Mud Slap, Rock Tomb, Rapid Spin, Harden, Confusion, Psychic, Barrier, Imprison, Wide Guard, Light Screen, Reflect, Ancient Power, Teleport, Earth Power, Sandstorm, Scorching Sands

Meltan/Mimi (???) - Not a battler

---

CHAPTER 336

There was something uniquely unbearable about awkward elevator rides, the kind of discomfort you couldn't experience anywhere else. Maybe it was the cramped space or the endlessly looping, terrible music. Or the way I kept glancing to the side at Melody because of the tight confined space and how she kept tapping her heel on the floor. For what felt like the thousandth time, she clenched her temples, and the motion was accompanied by the muttering of a coming migraine. My mind drifted, tempted by the thought of breaking free and soaring away on Princess just to avoid the weight of today's responsibilities. Running would unfortunately get me fired, though.

"Any tips?" I mumbled, fingers fiddling together. "I mean, what should I even say?"

"Just stay quiet unless directly spoken to. Mr. Remington's not someone you can talk to without thinking," Melody warned. Out of her purse, she flicked open a tiny compact mirror and fixed up her already-perfect hairdo as if it needed to be adjusted. It looked perfect to me already; the light brown locks framed her face like they had been carefully sculpted that way without her input. A single strand dared to fall out of place, but she quickly tucked it behind her ear, her movements precise and measured. She snapped the mirror shut with a soft click and sighed. "I just don't understand how a person can be this… unpredictable."

"Haha…" I let out an awkward laugh and scratched the back of my neck. "I'm just trying my best."

Mel sighed again. "I know."

"And I mean, wasn't the battle great?" I asked with a slight lean, inching forward. I'd watched over the footage already, having downloaded it on my phone before leaving the Gym. Despite there being plenty of cringe moments—instances where I or my Pokemon had lost their character or once again missing obvious traps that could have been spotted like that Trevenant's trick, I hadn't felt the awful self-loathing that usually came from analyzing myself. Granted, there was some loathing, and it most likely would have been different if I lost, but…

Honestly, right now? Who cared if I lost? I'd do another thousand battles like these if I could. It was too bad Gardenia would be busy from now on.

Kicking my feet and lamenting at how long this elevator was—seriously, how tall was this tower—I continued, "I'm sure it'll sell… there are plenty of great moments. And Gardenia's tough! It's not like she went easy on me; I beat her starter! Kinda. I mean she was holding back skill-wise, but it's still, like, a statement." Gardenia's Roserade had been far more versatile than I'd expected her to be. I was willing to bet her red bouquet could control flames as well as her blue one could control water, which was an amazing counter to fire types if she needed it. "No one can say I was just handed a victory over."

Melody's lips flattened, and she crossed her arms. "It isn't about if your battle was of an appropriate level or not. Objectively speaking, you were given an advantage no other trainer will get," she said, her tone a little dry. I didn't blame her, considering I once again had screwed up Poketch's plans. "Oh boy, they are going to be up in arms."

I tried not to wince. "Yeah." For example, Aubri had already complained about me getting unfair advantages due to my closeness to the League a while back. This would just reinforce her worldview and make her sour on me again. "I guess there's no way around it."

"You start dating Maylene and you suddenly get to fight a Gym Leader twice? It'd be a miracle if we could even spin this any other way."

"I haven't even gone public with that yet!" Though I had been planning to today before talking to Melody about it.

"People aren't blind, Grace," she chided. "You're not being discreet at all. We let it slide because you were doing a good job until now, but—"

The elevator finally dinged, and the doors opened to a wide room made of darkened tiles like obsidian. I quickly paced behind Melody, who walked in large strides that were hard to keep up with. I'd be meeting Remington McMillan for the second time today, and needless to say, I was nervous. That was part of why I'd tried to justify myself to Melody since I'd told her the news earlier today. My hip felt light with only Angel and Buddy attached to my belt, and I adjusted my Mimi-necklace for reassurance. In front of the doors was a straight-laced secretary at a desk sitting with a bored Kadabra levitating a strange, glowing brain teaser puzzle back and forth with her spoon.

"Sadie. We're here to see the board," Melody said.

"Mr. McMillan and his son are inside and will see you in momentarily," the girl droned. I pitied her, working in this somber room all day. There were windows, but the dark tiles made it feel like there was no ambient light in the room even in the late afternoon.

My liaison's eyebrows creased. "I thought it'd only be Mr. McMillan in today?"

"Landis wanted to sit in the meeting," Sadie said in that same monotone voice. She tilted her head, a finger on a tiny listening device in her ear, and she nudged her head. "Kadabra, send them in." The words were barely audible to me due to her being way to my left. I touched my new hearing aid and lamented how much worse it was than my last, even if it was just temporary until this was dealt with. At least this place was quieter than downstairs.

The psychic nonchalantly waved a spoon, and the great double doors rattled with psychic energy. The shield present had honestly been so weak even Cass would have been able to brute force it—no offense to them. They'd done a great job against Gardenia's Torterra today; I just felt like the protection afforded to such important people wasn't up to par with the threats they could face. And only one Kadabra? What if you just focused on her, making her concentration fray and allowing other assassins into the room? Hell, she could just die from a stray attack through one of the windows and there would be no more protection. What if—

Melody interrupted my racing thoughts by stepping inside. Oh, Arceus, I was nervous. I found myself wiping the sweat off my hands before following her into the thankfully brighter room, even if it was practically empty; there were no decorations, no plants, no nothing besides the long table and a row of chairs, and the sunlight of the late afternoon basking the room in its glow. It was larger than you'd think, with a table long enough to fit the entire board and then some if need be. Small water bottles had already been placed beside what I assumed were our seats. Melody motioned to me, and I anxiously shuffled into the comfortable chair. She sat to my right so I'd hear her.

It was my second time seeing Remington McMillan up close. I'd seen pictures, videos, footage on the news—but most recently, I'd seen him from afar at Craig's ceremony.

He was just a man—frail, soft, and visibly aged. There were only wisps of white hair remaining on his head, arranged in a combover that was being asked to do the impossible. His skin was a network of wrinkles, so much so that it seemed harder to find a smooth patch than not. Yet, unlike some of the other board members I'd seen at the ceremony, his eyes were sharp and dangerous, as if the years hadn't dulled the keen gaze that once built a technological empire across Sinnoh.

Built and maintained it, even with Cynthia's rise.

Beside him was a secretary of some sort with the same earpiece I'd noticed moments earlier and a phone that I assumed was here for her to record things. She glanced toward me for a moment, then away instantly, almost uncomfortably. She was scared; fear was easy enough to read.

Sat at his side sat his son Landis, feet up on the table with a smug smile as he looked at me. He looked absolutely delighted to be here—a stark contrast to his father's solemn look. There was a laptop closed at his feet, along with a notebook and a pen. From what I knew, he was in his forties and kind of reminded me of what Louis would have been like had he never gotten a reality check in his formative years. Hell, he even had blond hair to boot, though his was more of a dirty blond like rather than Louis' pristine blond.

Melody dipped her head for a moment. "Members of the board."

I glanced at her, wanting to know if I was supposed to say anything before I remembered that she had literally briefed me on this like an hour ago and that I'd just forgotten because of the anxiety. "M—members of the board," I mumbled. Only a moment later did I dip my own head. "It's a pleasure to see you."

"Pleasure's ours," Landis said. I had to angle my head to the right, toward him and his father, in hopes of catching their words. "It's overdue, really. Dad says that it's not how we do things, but he's a little old-school."

A strange silence settled in—not awkward, but heavy despite knowing that Remington couldn't hurt me at all. I was pretty sure he wouldn't even be able to knock me on the ground physically. He had barely looked my way when I stepped into the room and was slowly drumming his fingers on the table. His son cleared his throat and sat properly, removing his feet from the table, and he muttered something under his breath I didn't catch.

"Now we can begin in earnest," Remington said with a polite smile he must have practiced more times than I could count. "Grace Pastel. In all my years leading this company—fifty-two years—I have never had someone as unpredictable as you under Poketch's employ." He stroked his chin with a contemplative look, almost amused. "It's as if you know exactly how to toe the line between talented and useful, and liability who cannot be controlled. I wonder how you do it, sometimes."

Melody spoke up. "Respectfully, Mr. McMillan—"

"The young lady can speak for herself, can't she?" he interrupted her. Melody hid her grimace well, but not her flexing fingers under the table. "Can you blame me for being intrigued?"

For the first time, he looked at me. I met his milky, baleful grey eyes and stopped myself from sputtering out some non-answer to stall for time.

"I had no idea today would happen at all. The battle was offered to me as… more of a personal affair," I tried to explain. "I had no idea the badge would come along with it."

"Yet you took it regardless."

"I did. And I'd do it again." Oh God. I would do it again, but I'd spoken without thinking. "It was the best battle I've ever had. It was far more meaningful to me than some rematch against Byron."

Theoretically, I could have refused the badge scheme, but I wasn't going to let Maylene's gift to me go to waste, nor would I allow the battle to be stripped of part of its meaning. It was reignition, yes, the rebirth of passion, but it was also a union between me and my girlfriend, along with the approval of her family. That was what the badge meant to me.

Surprisingly, he rested his cheek against the palm of his hand and hummed—a far more… youthful gesture than I'd expected. "You're speaking in feelings, not in Pokedollars. Try again."

For a moment, my eyes could only blink. "Uh. Okay?" Melody seemed tense—more tense than I'd ever seen her. I could literally hear her teeth gnawing despite being half deaf. I leaned forward in my chair. "I mean obviously people are going to be pissed when this is out, and a whole lot of interviews and preparations just went out the window. I was given an opportunity no one else has." Not that Gardenia was an easy fight at all.

I stopped to think for a moment, taking deep breaths as if to blow away the nervousness. A good method I'd found to soothe my nerves was to remind myself that we were all weak creatures of the flesh no matter what social power we amassed. I could kill him just as easily as he could end my career, really.

Besides the hardest of superfans like Edith, trainers' reactions would majorly range from indifference to hatred, especially since this wasn't the first time I'd been put ahead by something other than my own skill. Hell, I was sitting in this very room because I randomly met Craig near Snowpoint and he felt bad we'd almost died in Coronet—not that he hadn't seen potential in me. I was allowed to join the LTIP earlier and catch more than six Pokemon, I'd been given the secret to evolving Electivire, I was involved with the government, bla bla bla—you could honestly make an endless list of the advantages I'd been given. I didn't feel bad about it. Not anymore, at least. As Craig himself had once said: luck was one thing, but correctly assessing and making use of the opportunities at your feet was a skill of its own.

My bias was obvious, and this wouldn't move any numbers. Honestly, maybe trainers themselves were a lost cause, but that was the thing, wasn't it? I wasn't staying here.

"I'm leaving after the Conference," I said. "I doubt Unova will care for this at all."

"Better," he said, this time tapping two fingers at once. I assumed he already had these answers. Did he want me to get to them on my own to see my worth? I hated the way he spoke. The way he only saw me as a number to exploit. But I only saw the company he had created as a megaphone to spread my name far and wide, so I was using him as well—to a much lesser extent. He was the one with all the power and leverage, and he would be until I was like Craig. "What do you think, Landis?"

Like an unmuzzled Lillipup, or a pet having finally been given attention by its owner, he slicked his hair back with a lazy faux-grin. "I think it'd be a waste to let her go." My eye twitched. "Craig played things too by the book. She's risky, but there's also opportunity, especially in a foreign market."

"Well, if I based every decision off what you said, Poketch would have gone under twenty years ago."

Landis' cheeks reddened, but only for a moment. "Whatever you say, old man."

Their little… whatever this was had allowed me time to think. "It isn't like Sinnoh's market is completely ruined for me." Or at least I thought so. I was honestly speaking out of my ass and just trying to sound confident. "We should let time pass post-reveal to see if sales for my merch and stuff take a hit. And honestly?"

"Hm?" Remington took a sip of water.

"I don't think civilians will care as much. I mean the ones who are deep in trainer culture will," I said, thinking of forum-browsers. "But the vast majority of the people who buy my merch? They won't care beyond like, the first day, I bet." People like my dad, people like Jess from piano class? They had only gleaned the surface of what it meant to be a trainer. "They're going to think it's weird for sure, but one look at that battle, and I bet you we'll come out the other side of this more positively than not."

This, I was actually certain of, and these people were the vast, vast majority of people in the country and Poketch's consumers. The ones who only tuned into battles during the Conference or tournaments throughout the year, or for a few trainers they liked, and nothing else.

"You should use more confident words when haggling to keep your position," Remington said in an almost fatherly tone. "But you're right. If you hadn't come to these very obvious conclusions, you would have been fired immediately." My blood ran cold. Fired, not demoted? "I've no time for people who can't think. Poketch is only for the best and the brightest." The glance at his son was very difficult to miss. "Keep going."

Keep going.

I'd only saved myself from a firing, not a demotion. Was I the only person in the world whose eighth badge was considered a bad thing? This stuff only fucking happened to me!

I beat Gardenia's Roserade, her starter, and arguably most versatile and powerful Pokemon, I wanted to say, but that didn't speak his language. "Gardenia's almost synonymous with Roserade. Not as much as Cynthia and Garchomp, but when people think of her, they think of her starter too. Me having beaten her is very marketable to the masses, I th—no, it is. Plus, there are plenty of moments in the fight that can be turned into more merch, and it's already been selling very well."

"Your numbers are above what was projected now that you're pulling your weight," he admitted with smiling eyes.

I nodded. "I'd be willing to bet that the dent won't even be noticeable after a bit."

"What about your reputation?" Remington pushed. "You spin a pretty story, but Craig was beloved by all trainers and was a symbol of what it meant to tread that path. That is how he sold so well. He was simple in an extremely effective way. What if your co-workers suddenly no longer want to work with you? What trainers say trickles down to the ears of their families. This has never happened before in the history of this country. The networks are definitely going to run with it in the weeks leading up to the Conference, and your run there is now going to be tainted and bogged down by questions of whether you should even be there in the first place."

That was true. If I got crushed, then their expectations would be met and they'd laugh at me. If I did well and had a deep run through a combination of luck and skill, then every trainer who lost to me would complain and say that I shouldn't have been here. You could spin that I wouldn't have lost against Byron—though honestly, in hindsight, I was pretty sure I would have. Gardenia had just been the best at reigniting my passion in a way Byron never could have met.

I was in a lot of trouble.
"I'm waiting," Remington said.

So as you do when you were in trouble, I fought my heart out.

I could do more interviews now that I was freed from training—a blitz explaining myself and how I deserved to stand among the other trainers who had made it to the Conference. In fact, I could work twice as hard now in general, even if the fact that this meant less Maymay time just as we'd begin dating officially left a foul taste in my mouth. I could have my friend Denzel make use of his contacts in the trainer community to give me a leg up—he even knew the guy who made a podcast that was currently blowing up; Goalducc42 was topping the charts every time he and Archive released an episode. Granted, Archive being the paranoid, anti-government person that he was, would not appreciate me getting a leg up, but he wouldn't have to be included, and worst-case scenario, Denzel knew other people. I was close with the League, yes, and Remington knew they needed me, just not what for. That meant I could be used as leverage. A middleman of some sort between Poketch and the government. Getting them huge favors was a lost cause now that the world was saved, but he didn't know that and he'd been the one basically pushing me to make myself look better than I was. Mostly, I was expecting small favors here and there at most.

Like getting this man more psychics for free. God.

"You have awful security, by the way!" I was nearly panting. "I'd get at least three of those Kadabra if I were you, it's not like you can't afford it! See what I mean when I say the average person doesn't know much about battling? You just have a single psychic there to make you feel good about yourself—"

Landis snorted, nearly vibrating.

"—you can't tell the difference between a good and a bad barrier. Or one that lets sound in or not. Or one that isolates for temperature. Or a one-way barrier. Or—" I smothered the rest of my rant when I noticed Melody stare at me like I was clinically insane. Instead, I grabbed a water bottle and downed it all in one go, but I swallowed wrong and was gripped by a coughing fit. "S—sorry."

Remington's nose was mildly wrinkled, though his son was fighting not to burst out laughing. "That'll do, Ms. Pastel. Thank you for your time today; I'll relay this meeting to the other members of the board, and we'll take a vote to figure out our next steps within the next few days. For now, well… feel free to continue your work and to announce your new relationship on your socials."

Melody spoke up before I could have any hopes of putting my foot in my mouth. "Thank you, Mr. Remington. We'll be looking forward to the results of the vote." After standing up, she placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Let's go, Grace."

"Oh. Uh, okay. Thank you, Mr. Remington."

My liaison didn't wait long to freak out at me. The moment we were back in the elevator and she used her keycard to click on the ground floor, she—

"I think you might have saved your job."

She finally allowed the lines of exhaustion to show on her face. A huge sigh slipped through, and she leaned against the wall of the elevator as her hands tightly gripped the railing.

My heart skipped a beat. "Did—did I make good arguments?! How do you know?"

"You made decent arguments. You should have been more detailed on a plan to restore your reputation instead of just plugging the holes on a sinking ship, but you did well without a plan." Her eyes widened slightly. "I'm sorry, Grace. I should have briefed you on this. Usually, Mr. Remington would have just let me speak, so I didn't know he would test you like this."

"It's okay. I mean, I figured it out. I think."

"Anyway, don't get your hopes up. It's not a sure thing, but the way that meeting finished so open-ended? I know him well enough to figure that he would have crushed you right then and there if he'd been demoting you. He's a very straightforward person with no bullshit."

She kept talking about the different members of the board until the elevator reached the ground floor, and how this was essentially a one-man dictatorship run by Remington McMillan. Hell, my suspicions about one of them being senile were literally confirmed! Essentially, this meant that whatever he said would be law, even if there might be one or two votes of dissent for flair. The conversation continued in her car. The activity of the city was too much for me to focus on, and I was finding myself having to turn my hearing aid off in busy areas so the feedback loop wouldn't give me a headache.

"What he appreciated was being spoken to straight up like he likes doing—nothing to try to justify your actions, just trying to come up with a plan to fix things. Maybe it reminded him a little of Craig," she tried guessing, holding the steering wheel with a single, relaxed hand. "Though that thing at the end was way too far—what possessed you to talk about his security of all things?"

"I just couldn't help it. It's so bad, Mel!" I whined. "He'll thank me if he ever gets attacked by some criminal."

"Usually he would have had nothing there. The Kadabra's a new addition after the bombings," Melody nonchalantly said.

My eyes nearly fell out of their sockets. "Huh?!"

"He hired her as a precaution—"

"A single Kadabra? For bombs of that magnitude?" That was nearly laughable.

"It's a serviceable bodyguard for the purposes of what he needs. Plus, he hates spending money."

"What about hearing damage from the explosions? What if—what if the building collapsed?" Arceus, now I felt naked without Buddy or Cass around me. "What about the inferno after the explosion, Melody? Has he given any thought about the inferno?! Does he want his skin to melt off—"

"Relax, Grace. You're not—" she stopped and blew a tired raspberry. "People don't really think like that. Just loosen up, okay? Team Galactic's gone. Today, you get to rest, but from tomorrow onward, you'll be working even harder. And remember, if things go south, Mr. Remington is still liable to drop you."

I leaned against the window. "Yeah. I know."

But the most important part was that I had survived through this, if only barely. Of course, things were never easy, but they could have been worse. I'd need to start figuring out how to approach things from now on, especially with my co-workers.

And what would Marley say?

To cheer myself up, I messaged Maylene about going public sometime tomorrow and finally getting those matching hearing aids.

—

The next day

Cecilia was glad her dream skills seemed to have transferred to the real world. She stood outside in the crisp Floaroma air, hammer in hand, staring at the wooden beams in front of her. The rhythmic clink of metal striking nails felt natural, as though her body knew the motion instinctively. She braced a plank against the frame and raised the hammer high, bringing it down with just the right amount of force. Despite disliking such labor, the nail drove cleanly into the wood, the impact sending a satisfying vibration up her arm.

All around her, people were working on Louis' land. They'd been hired by Justin's father to help in the construction of his sanctuary, and while Louis was more of a leading figure, organizing what should go where and rearranging plans over and over so the end product would be one-to-one to his vision, Cecilia had asked for manual labor. Her Pokemon were helping as well, or at least as best as they could. Even her Hydreigon was helping to transport materials. Cecilia was glad to see Justin's Pokemon participating as well, though they stuck to Louis for the most part. Especially Audino. The normal type clung to his shirt like a lost child in a mall.

She missed Justin. She glanced at the sky as memory of him stalked her mind, and for a moment, she felt a little silly at the thought of him observing his friends live their lives. Chase liked to imagine this with his parents. It made things easier for him, and not wanting to disappoint them was part of what gave him his inexhaustible drive.

Sweat clinging to her skin, Cecilia wiped her brow after taking off her cap for a moment and decided to take a breather. The cabin she was working on would be used to store dry foods, but right now it was just a meager wooden frame. Feeling horribly parched, she decided to make her way toward a help desk that had been set up at the edge of Louis' land.

The terrain itself was like much of Floaroma—a flat plateau covered in flowers. A few Beautifly floated lazily above, their wings shimmering in the sunlight as they flitted from flower to flower. Near the edge of a small stream, a Pachirisu darted between the trees, its bushy tail flicking with excitement. In the distance, a Roselia stood still among the petals, blending almost seamlessly with the faded colors around it. Life was everywhere you looked.

They weren't altering the landscape as much as they were adding on top of it, and most of the final project would be open-air—Cecilia had seen the blueprints a dozen times. It was Grace who had helped Louis procure this piece of land, or at least helped him look into it. As much as it hurt to see him begin to gravitate toward her again, she understood. She'd never done as much for him as Grace had, helping him not with only this, but also his struggles with the knowledge of the end of the world, his troubles with Gible back at the start of the journey, and a million other tiny things that eventually added up into a mountain.

Almost as if on cue, her phone rang. For better or for worse—no, it was clearly for the better—gone were the days where she expected Grace to call. These days, it was either Temperance calling to chat when they weren't together or Emilia checking in. This time, it was the former.

"Hi babe," she said in a sing-song voice. "Not too busy, I hope?"

"I can give you some time; I'm currently taking a break," Cecilia said. "What's your deal today?"

The Unovan had smoothly integrated herself into Temperance's group, but that meant that she'd needed to learn the politics of it, along with dozens of different names, wants, and needs. She was honestly still getting the hang of it all, but they were all mostly nice to her, and it felt good to meet new people. She'd even gotten some of their numbers and been added to some group chats that admittedly she had not interacted in yet. What this meant, however, was that Temperance had found in Cecilia a good listener. 'Good' as in she just let her talk and barely said anything back, but besides her Pokemon, Cecilia was the only person Temperance could speak about this with. Heaven forbid she didn't look or sound perfect at all times.

Cecilia could sympathize with that suffocating state of mind.

"Ronaldo's been down in the dumps since we started dating." With a pensive sigh, she paused, and Cecilia heard her rolling around in her bed. The same bed she'd been in when Cecilia had left this very morning.

The Unovan scoffed. "Did you spend all day doing nothing?"

"What? It's not like I have a Grand Festival to prepare for. I deserve a break, Cece."

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Whatever. What's this about Ronaldo?"

"I'm trying to figure out how to cheer him up. Maybe I can set him up with another girl and we can do a double date thing."

Cecilia rolled her eyes so strongly they nearly receded back into her skull. "And have you hang off my arm the entire night? Are you stupid? Do you want to torture him?"

"Not like you aren't doing the same thing to your other friend," Temperance dared to fight back. "I'm surprised she's still hanging out with us. She obviously isn't coming today because you aren't."

Emilia…

Emilia was odd, really. Sometimes Cecilia wondered why her friend even looked at a person like her this way and why it seemed to get worse the longer this new relationship went on. Why even like her, and why lie about it? She'd asked twice more if there was a problem with the state of things, and twice more Emilia had said no. And she didn't even use the situation—being with people she could forge connections with to further her career—to her advantage. Instead, all she did was attempt to babysit Cecilia out of fear that she would fuck up somewhere.

Cecilia wasn't naive. She knew that this thing with Temperance didn't have legs to stand on for long, even if her girlfriend wanted it to. It was just new. Something other than Grace to experience—

However, that justification fell flat when she kept pretending it was Grace under her and not Temperance during the nights they spent together. Still, this was fun, and Temperance was good at making her laugh sometimes.

"You're right," she finally admitted. "I'll talk to her again today and try to convince her to stop coming." There were only so many hours in a day. Between training and integrating herself within a new circle, there was very little of it, but Cecilia was sure she could make time for her if she needed it.

"Did you just… relent to something? Am I changing you—"

Cecilia hung up on her. She hated that idea, now, the notion that she was being molded by someone. She let out a silent laugh, knowing that she might as well have been fighting shadows with how ineffective she'd been up until now to counter this. But little by little, she was becoming someone. A person.

She was still climbing those stairs.

One bottle of water later, Louis found Cecilia sitting under the cool shade of Lehmhart's body. She fought away memories of Grace complaining about the heat with a shake of her head. With her, she had a snack Temperance had bought instead of made. It was an artisanal energy bar, elegantly packaged in matte foil with gold accents that cost way more than it was worth.

"Doing okay?" Louis asked, patting the Golurk on the leg. Lehmhart answered with a high-pitched, satisfied sound. His range was improving massively lately thanks to Temperance's training.

He had grown into himself, fully becoming the man he was always meant to be, embodying the potential that had once only lingered as a promise. It was one thing to speak of a dream, and another to make it a reality.

"I suppose." Cecilia crouched and slowly munched on her snack. "Where's Audino?"

"With Ninetales. He's been struggling the most," he said. "What do you think about our progress so far? At this rate, we'll be ready to welcome Pokemon, both wild and trained, by the start of the next Circuit." His voice brimmed with the excitement of a boy on his birthday in a way Cecilia couldn't help but smile at.

They spoke of the sanctuary for a few minutes. Of future plans and how Louis was studying how to care for different Pokemon types on his own time with the very book Justin had planned on bringing him back from the Canalave Library before he died. Hiring was already in progress, and while his first few years would be backed by Justin's father, it was his hope for this sanctuary to run on donations sooner rather than later.

"Do you have a name for it yet?" Cecilia asked. "'The Sanctuary' isn't great."

"I haven't thought of it much, actually. I was thinking of either naming it the Floaroma Sanctuary—"

"Come on. You can do better than that," she teased.

There was a moment of tension in the air. A fist clenched at his side, and the chewing of his own tongue. Cecilia noticed his neck tighten as his next breath only squeezed past his contracted esophagus.

"Listen, Cece—" he groaned, as if speaking to her was suddenly the most difficult thing in the entire world. Feeling the rebuke suddenly come, the Unovan found her mannerisms mimicking Chase's as she lowered her cap until she couldn't see his face. "This is… this is a huge project of mine. I've been working toward it for half a year now. I—I know you're feeling hurt, but please don't… project that onto me."

"What?"

"You've been meaner ever since Grace broke up with you. And you're angry, I can tell!" She could see his arms move with his words, each gesture akin to those one would make when trying to calm down an aggressive beast. "And this new girlfriend of yours… well, I don't know. Just don't take it out on me—it feels belittling. Please."

"I—I wasn't being serious."

"The words cut all the same. I know others like Chase or Pauline can take it, but not me. And I wouldn't do it with Emilia either if I were you. She's been acting odd lately. I don't know."

The flowers at her feet swayed in the wind. "I thought—" no, that wasn't what she should have been saying. Justifications would bring her nowhere. Her eyes shut tightly, and she bit her lip. "I'm sorry. I should leave, shouldn't I?"

"That's not what I—"

"I get it. You don't want me to leave, but honestly, it might give you some peace of mind if I did." He'd be better off if Grace was here instead of her. He'd wanted to go back to her anyway. Cecilia finished her energy bar in one bite and shot up. Louis' face was wrought with pain. "I'll leave you my Pokemon here and come back at the end of the day."

"Hold on, I—"

"Of course, I'll have to take Lehmhart to fly. Could you change into your rocket mode, darling?" Cecilia stared up at the construct, whose eyes dimmed, and with an ethereal sigh that let her know he would eventually stop doing this, his body began to shift.

The plates along his body began to grind and shift with a slow, deliberate movement, revealing the intricate mechanisms beneath the ancient armor. He used to be slower at this, much slower, and it would still be suicide to use it mid-fight, but the sound of the change masked Louis' complaints and pleas.

Wait.

She was just—

She was just running away again, wasn't she? Doing the exact same thing that had lost her Grace.

The realization struck her like lightning, and she found herself suddenly hyperaware of every tendon, every bone, every skin cell in her body. Lehmhart stood there at the ready, his engines brimming with energy and warping the air below them with heat that made both Louis and Cecilia sweat and made the flowers below lie flat against the earth.

Cecilia exhaled. "Never mind, I'm staying." Lehmhart thrummed in relief as well.

"Thank the Legendaries." Louis held out his hand, but lowered it. "I never wanted to chase you away. I was just… you know. Just don't say hurtful things, even if I know you don't mean it." She found herself hugging Louis tightly, continuously apologizing in his ear as her eyes welled up with tears. He struggled to return it, but he did eventually. "You're trying to pretend you're doing fine, but you aren't."

"I'm trying to move on," she said, head still on his shoulder. "But I can't."

"It hasn't been very long."

"That's what Emilia says—wait, what was that about her acting odd?" She ended the hug and held her friend at arm's length.

"I don't know. It's like she's a lot less energetic than usual lately when talking, or at least that's what Pauline noticed the last time they were together a few days ago—actually, they should be together right now in Hearthome. It's unlike her. Do you know something about it?"

Louis had been so focused on work that he'd rarely lifted up his head to see what was happening around him. While he knew what was generally happening, he had no idea Emilia had decided to stick to Cecilia to watch her or that she most likely had unrequited feelings for whatever reason. The Unovan figured that being with her while she was with Temperance wasn't very fun, but if she was acting this way even with Pauline…

"I do know," Cecilia said.

Maybe it was time to speak to Emilia and tell her that she shouldn't be involved anymore.

It'd hurt her, but… they needed to talk more seriously. And if push came to shove, if no accord could be reached;

To protect her feelings in the long term, maybe Emilia was better off no longer being friends with her.

"Louis, I think I might need to leave after all."

---

Thank you to my Patreons - Spandaz, Alex Walters, ObsidianOlive, A Ferret, Oblige, Joe, Emilowish, Sean, Tim Schmidt, Dim, Violett T, Kail H, dragonslaver, Jon, RosaC, TsukiNoNeko, NPM, Jim A, Spicyice101, Vesperal, Addmolition exe, Frogsamurai, Alex F, Kiri, Rhuodric, Nord, Filthymacgyver, Grey J, creativityfails, Spartanstoryteller, Peter D, Bum, Zaire M, Plasmatique, Lodris, Chester, AnotherUser, BeautifulBusinessBoi, Papito12495, KeMon C, Geo, Pedro B, Rat, LR Brantley, ZZStrider, Sharkerxjak, Quakdoktor, nothingtoseehere, Mystic Corn, Paul S, coolblue, Ole W, Daniel J, Cosimo, Nick S, Pharros, Michael J, Jan, ChairmanK-, William F, Zhijia, Andy S, HeyMrJack, NineXO, Exceedes, Gustavo S, Serina T, lepton, sqw4l, Micah T, L'iien, Kisekibigdumb, Nikolai M, David G, endgame13, JK, Ian R, Rain, Jason H, Scandalion, ACertainName, Cosimo Yap, menirx, Pierre-Luc J., Alex A., Bridie, Christopher M

 

[Soussouni]

CHAPTER 337 - TURNING THE TANKER

Cecilia's ears were still hurting from her flight on Lehmhart by the time she made it to Josephine's mansion, a reminder that she ought to buy ear protection sometime soon after this. Emilia was hunkering down at Pauline's mother's Hearthome property, which was a ways away from the city center and more modern than old Hearthome. The manse was set back behind lush, meticulously arranged gardens. Manicured hedges framed winding gravel paths, and clusters of flowers Cecilia imagined were vibrant in color. She tried recalling memories of how it looked the last time she'd been earlier in the year, but those were smudgy at best. She had noticed that Sinnoh didn't have much variety in terms of homes affluent people lived in. For the most part, they were either penthouses atop high rises or modern mansions like these surrounded by gardens.

A few security guards, each accompanied by a Pokemon, nodded as she passed, already notified of her arrival. The security business was booming post-bombing; it somewhat reminded her of the raid on Backlot's mansion and his endless trainers for hire, something he'd been considered eccentric for. She didn't feel the slightest pause until she reached the stone slab steps, where a hint of hesitation crept in.

Cecilia knew what she wanted to say. It was simple, really. She wanted to tell Emilia to stop looking after her and to say that she never should have been involved in this Temperance business in the first place—and she needed to apologize for letting it go on for this long as well. The issue was that Cecilia wasn't the best with words, or more precisely at broaching sensitive topics in a way that would leave someone's feelings as unhurt as possible. If Emilia could not accept this, then Cecilia would need to keep her distance in order not to harm her further—which would mean weaning herself off the very friends she'd spent all this time getting closer to.

A calming breath, then Cecilia pulled her chin up and made herself taller. She'd faced murderers and death before—had literally died before. This moment shouldn't feel as daunting or difficult as it did. All she needed was to find the right way to navigate this sensitive topic…

If only Slowking had been here for advice. Unfortunately, besides Lehmhart, all of her Pokemon had remained to help Louis at his sanctuary. She owed him that, at the very least; the extra labor would have been missed, especially when they were Pokemon of their calibre. The Unovan pushed the tall wooden double doors open and took a step inside, glad to be out of the sun's glare. Already used to the labyrinthian dispositions of her father's numerous mansions and homes, she found herself easily navigating the wide hallways and soon found Pete—Pauline's most trusted butler—near the entrance before asking him for directions. There were fewer staff members here than she knew Unovans liked to have, with Pete being one of sixteen currently on service around the mansion, some cleaning a vase, sweeping the floor, keeping ambient music going, or fixing up the dining room for tonight. Nearly all of them were young men.

"Ms. King and Ms. Lussier are in this room," Pete said, presenting the door with a polite gesture. Cecilia could hear the faint sound of their voices. "May I be of any more service?"

"No, thank you."

He gently knocked on the door, each tap of his finger deliberate, and he announced their presence to the two before he was let in by Pauline's rambunctious voice. As soon as the "come in!" was heard, Cecilia felt her jaw clench and felt her face twisting into a faux smile before shaking her head and already knowing it would be a meaningless lie. It was difficult to unlearn gestures you'd lived with your entire life, especially if you were punished for not doing them. Only when Grace was here had she found herself comfortable enough to relax—and Chase, these days.

To Cecilia, they looked much the same as always. Pauline carried her usual expression—a hint of a smirk at the corner of her mouth, her eyes softened over the past year. You might even call her calm now. Almost. Beneath that composure, though, a spark still flickered, restless as ever. Emilia was also not that rattled, though unlike her friend, she knew the reason for Cecilia's visit. Really, the Unovan was surprised she hadn't told Pauline about it during the multi-hour-long journey to Hearthome; she'd nearly expected to be verbally assaulted the moment she'd come into the room. Emilia was tense, her eyes darting throughout the room. It was as if she'd turned back to the girl she'd been when they'd met. Nervous and afraid of anything unexpected.

Maybe not that far, Cecilia thought. It was still strange to see her this unsettled these days. The Unovan still didn't really understand it. No, she understood, but she didn't get why she'd lied about what she could take and not just told her outright. If she had, Temperance would have been history, but Cecilia didn't want to break up with her now, especially when they'd gone public and she'd found the coordinator worked well for her emotional needs.

Pete asked the two girls if they needed anything—snacks, drinks, a change in music—he was denied and swiftly left the room. The door closed with a foreboding clink behind Cecilia.

"Hey, Cece!" Pauline stood up from her truthfully enormous bed with a smile and hugged her. It was an unexpected gesture she struggled to return in the moment. "I'm glad you came to hang out, even if it was sudden. Emi and I were talking about performances and stuff to cheer her up—she's been a little off lately."

Cecilia's eyes fell upon the coordinator, and she averted hers immediately. Had her crush gotten worse? Or maybe she was just nervous because of the text Cecilia had sent. Hopefully that was it. "I can see that," she said before pausing. "May I sit? I have something—"

"Hey, can I talk to you in private?" Emilia cut in, finding her confidence. Her hands were clenched around Pauline's fluffy bedsheets tightly enough to turn her knuckles white. "Sorry, Pauline. It won't be long."

"Whaaat?" the redhead drawled with a hint of humor. There was a short pause, and her slightly amused expression gave way to a frown and a look of realization that this would be serious. "Wait. What's with the cloak and dagger shit?" She was quiet, but still threatening. Like a song slowly building up to a climax. Quickly, her head swiveled back to her bed. "Emi?"

Cecilia could see the gears turning inside her head. Still in loungewear just a little too big for her, Emilia sighed. The one leg she had over the bed's edge started to bounce. "I was hoping to keep this private."

Pauline crossed her arms. "Something's going on between you two. I'm guessing that's why you've been so depressed."

Emilia clicked her tongue. "I'm not depressed, Arceus. No need to exaggerate—"

"You haven't uploaded on your channel in days, you haven't practiced with your Pokemon in that same length of time—so much so that Metang had to ask me about it," Pauline scathingly listed. "Instead of being the queen of Hearthome or whatever, you've been holing up here. With me. You didn't even bring a change of clothes!" The redhead gestured at her ex like what she was saying was the most obvious thing in the world, and to be honest, it was.

Guilt seized Cecilia's heart. She'd managed to get a hold of her ghostly self by now, so she didn't let it show, or barely enough that only Grace or perhaps Chase would have caught it.

"Just… whatever," Emilia exhaled in defeat. "What if I promise to tell you afterward? It'd be uncomfortable with you hearing." She closed her eyes and made her voice small. "And humiliating."

Pauline's eyes widened slightly before narrowing into a confused glare of sorts aimed at Cecilia. She must have already concluded her to be the villain, and to be honest, this was mainly her fault, so she wasn't wrong. "Fine," Pauline said. "Just make sure to tell the truth after. I'm worried about you. I'll go grab some chips or something. I didn't want to bother Pete, but I'm kind of hungry."

"You can grab some chips without pestering him," Emilia said, half-jokingly. "But thanks."

Cecilia said the same, dipping her head in appreciation as the redhead passed her by and closed the door. Nearly slammed it, in fact. Now that they were alone, with only Lehmhart's Pokeball to keep her company, Cecilia didn't know if she should stay where she was at a healthy distance or go sit on the bed next to Emi. Wasn't distance actually what she needed? But would she seem cold if she was too far? So many questions, and so little time to think. She decided to compromise and sit on the bed, but a few feet away or so to give her space.

Emilia kept stealing glances at her, and once again her fists gripped the bedding. Cecilia just kept unflinchingly looking right at the side of her face. Surely eye contact would showcase her honesty.

"You'll tell Pauline I'm sorry about sitting on her bed with unchanged clothes after a flight," the Unovan said. "I don't think she'll be willing to talk to me after this."

"After what?" Emilia said.

"Emi." There were no two ways about this. She needed to be direct. "I'm sorry for allowing you to watch over my relationship with Temperance. It was inattentive of me."

The girl scoffed. "Allowing me? It was a choice I made."

"A horrible one," Cecilia said. "You can't handle it. You just can't. Louis and now Pauline have talked about how it's affected you. You were hiding it well when we were together."

"I can. It's just harder than I thought."

"You can't," she repeated. "And yes. Allowed you. Because I could have cut you out of it right then and there that one night, and I didn't." Emilia stayed silent, possibly not knowing what to say—Cecilia wasn't certain. "This doesn't mean we can't be friends or that I'll stop seeing you. It just means that… that entire relationship with Temperance isn't something we should talk about at all. Or something you should be involved in at all. You never should have been in the first place."

The words hurt her. Cecilia could tell. Emilia winced, a trembling breath escaping the confines of her mouth, and she curled up into a ball, hugging her knees as she still sat. "You don't want me near you. Fine."

This time, it was Cecilia's turn to grimace; she flinched back and shook her head in disbelief. "That isn't what I said."

"It's what you mean," she bitterly laughed. "Think about it. You see her every day for the majority of the day. This morning and afternoon you spent with Louis is the first time you've seen one of us since you started dating her! Beside me, obviously."

That was true enough. Cecilia would have made time for Chase, but he had secluded himself now and was living in the wild like a hermit. They texted occasionally when he had service closer to Canalave, but he wasn't one to put his goals on hold to babysit her permanently.

"You used me as leverage to make Temperance jealous, and now you're just going away," she continued. "But it's whatever. I mean, it's not, but it is. Whatever."

"Why do you keep saying that when it isn't?"

"Because it has to be," she forced out through a constricted throat. "I'll get over it." There was a short moment of silence that seemed to stretch forever as she stared at the little plushies Pauline had arranged by her window. Most of them were fierce Pokemon like Druddigon or Charizard. "It just always feels like I come second, never first, no matter how hard I try. It's never enough."

"I'm sorry." It was half a genuine apology, half not knowing what to say. It was her first time rejecting someone she cared about—Amy could eat a bag of rusty needles. But at least now, Emilia could probably acknowledge the following instead of lying. "You like me, then. Not that I believed you when you denied it." She wouldn't have made that mistake again. Not after Grace. Fool me twice, shame on me, as they said.

The words struck Emilia like a thousand tons. Her head jerked back, and she looked at her and looked ready to fight the accusation, but relented within seconds and deflated like a helium balloon. "It was just an idea," she quietly said. "It wasn't actually serious. Not a big thing like you and Grace had."

"Why me, anyway?" Cecilia asked.

She scoffed. "Why? So I need a reason to have a mild crush on someone?"

It was a genuine question. There wasn't much to like about her, the Unovan had realized, and her friend wasn't one to get with someone just for their looks. Maybe Cecilia could fill a gimmick for a few weeks or months like she was doing with her current girlfriend, but it was only a matter of time until something went wrong with her or Temperance got bored—and it was only a matter of time until she left as well, which is why Cecilia would be doing so first. Not only that, but she was horrid at dating people. Why else would Grace have left?

"I believe you just had an idea of me in your head and thought I could be that, but I can't," she said.

"What the hell are you saying?" She shot up from the bed. "Do you realize how that makes you sound?"

"No."

She threw her hands up in exasperation. "I—" she evidently let the topic go and started pacing around the room. "I can't believe this. Why couldn't I like someone who—argh!" Emilia nearly tore her hair out. "Do you realize how I feel used, at least?"

Cecilia wanted to say, You could have just said no. I trusted you when you said you could handle it. But the words stayed lodged in her throat. She was even surprised at that combative part of her. People were so confusing. They could lie to your face about one thing and mean something else entirely. Lying to herself, she knew well, but why not be honest when the opportunity had been given? Grace too had lied about Maylene, and now she was gone.

It wasn't like it had been some sort of play to gain an advantage over her like something Cecilia might do when talking to someone she could get something from, it had just been a lie for the sake of lying. Why did people not realize when they liked someone? She'd realized her crush on Grace as soon as she realized that it'd be okay for her to be gay.

"I'm sorry," was all that came out through clenched teeth.

"I still think this Temperance thing is bad for you, but we can just leave it at that. I, uh," she glanced around, "might need some space? And if you see Pauline on the way out, tell her that I'm ready to talk to her. I'm sorry, but she should know. She cares about me."

Relief flooded Cecilia's veins like an aphrodisiac. She hadn't handled this very well and had nearly let anger get the better of her, but things were okay. Genuinely okay. It would probably take Emilia a while to lose her feelings, but no permanent damage in their friendship had taken hold. There were no more hugs, but instead an awkward wave as a goodbye, but before Cecilia could leave—

"One last thing," she asked. "What's so wrong with me?"

Cecilia frowned. "What do you mean?"

Emilia fell back on the bed with a little laugh, hair splayed out on the mattress. "What's so wrong with me that I'm never the one people choose?"

Never was an exaggeration here—sure, Pauline had gotten a crush on Denzel and forced all three of them into a relationship, but she'd never fallen out of love with Emilia. And this was just… she'd just never been into her that way.

"There's nothing wrong with you." Cecilia gently smiled at her. "I'm sorry I couldn't return your feelings. I'm sure you'll find someone soon who can make you happy."

Cecilia could maybe have given it a try, but there would be no point when she'd just be using her as a rebound and imagining her as Grace and she looked nothing like her. It would have been a far worse offense than what she'd done to her now, and unlike Temperance, she'd get no strange enjoyment out of it.

"Blegh," Emilia groaned.

That was hopefully the end of that whole debacle. Surprisingly, Pauline wasn't at the door to eavesdrop, something Cecilia had expected her to do. Instead, the redhead was down the hall, leaning against the wall and munching on some salted chips.

"Done?" she dryly said, scrunching up the bag. Was she already finished? She and Emilia hadn't spoken for long.

"Done," the Unovan said with a nod. "She's ready to talk."

Pauline walked past Cecilia, but stopped midway. "How is she?" she asked behind her.

"She's fine. Or at least she was fine when I left her," Cecilia said.

"We'll talk after," she nearly threatened.

"Of course."

Cecilia wouldn't run. Not only would it be cowardly, but it would just delay the inevitable, anyway. She settled into the same spot Pauline had claimed, wishing she had her Pokemon with her or that these halls were spacious enough to accommodate a Golurk. It made her recall how Grace and she used to daydream about renting some apartment in Castelia, or at least Cecilia daydreamed about it. Thinking back, it wasn't like she'd given her the option to choose the city or had even heard her input; Grace had just agreed right away.

With a heavy sigh, she pushed her head down against the wall she was facing and just existed for a few minutes. She remembered one of the breathing exercises Temperance taught her—one that was usually for singers, but that would be of use for her voice to stay steady when it was loud during a battle. She inhaled as much as possible and slowly exhaled while hissing, keeping it as level as possible. Then there was panting rapidly or gasping to build up the stamina in your throat muscles, and a million other things that had made her realize how complex a human throat was—and she'd seen multiple get crushed or cut. Innards just looked like innards to her. Red and mushy. That kept her distracted for a bit, but Pauline's conversation was taking a long time. Cecilia found her finger drifting toward Temperance's name. She wouldn't give her the satisfaction of asking for support during a tough day, but instead, she decided to keep her updated on what was happening. But keeping her updated? That felt like a 'girlfriend' thing to do—or at least, one she was willing to count as one.

She picked and chose which things fit that role, according to her own liking.

Her girlfriend answered with a 'proud of you babe! stay strong!' and it did surprisingly feel quite nice. Cecilia replied with a thanks and decided that was enough of that. She couldn't let herself get too attached or grow too close; she needed to keep Temperance at arm's length, both because of dependency fears and the fact that it was all temporary.

So as she usually did to distract herself, she found herself browsing the trainer forums. It was something she'd found enjoyment in since her physical revival post Jupiter and a hobby she hadn't lost after being revived by those Gengar. There was plenty of news about the Conference and the top upcoming trainers that she honestly just glanced over. She was looking at a 'hype' thread where 'connoisseurs' liked to theorize and power scale, though most of what they said was utter rubbish. She found a strange enjoyment in seeing people speak about her. Her relationship with Temperance had put her on the map, and it felt nice for her name to matter for once.

Cecilia should have expected to find Grace spoken about there. She hadn't looked at her ex's thread once since breaking up, but with her position at Poketch, she was famous enough to have people talk about her all the time even outside of it. Cecilia first found a post saying that Grace and Maylene were officially dating that was issued a warning for being off-topic, then another, then multiple over the course of the last few hours, and she opened Chatter and found Grace's account and read her latest Chat and—

She heaved for every breath and crouched face-first against the wall, her forehead never leaving the cool surface.

Obviously, Cecilia had known they were dating. She'd seen plenty of people online guess that fact, even. It wasn't like they'd been hiding it—they were more flaunting it in everyone's faces. But having the announcement spelled out right in front of her accompanied by a picture of Grace kissing the Gym Leader on the cheek in her room, having the entire country seeing it confirmed, having to face this certain truth on her own again?

It was nearly as painful as that day she'd found out for the first time.

Within her lay a treacherous, simmering rage. A pressure began to build in her chest, a fierce, twisting ache that rose into her throat, clawing for release yet held back by sheer will. Why was she being hurt again? Why did it even matter? There must have been something wrong with her to be still hung up on this, and it made the Unovan want to dive deep into her own ribcage and rip out her own heart so she could give it a stern talking to.

The door opened down the hall—no, it swung open and crashed into the little stopper that kept it from slamming on the wall. Emilia chased behind Pauline, calling her name over and over and telling her not to do this. The redhead approached with a determined step. Cecilia rose to meet her despite her anger still covering every inch of her skin and coiling around her like an Ekans.

"You bitch! What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Pauline yelled as she moved.

Emilia spoke up, desperation leaking into every word. "Pauline, please. We dealt with it like adults—"

"Who do you think you are, exactly?" She ignored her, her tone so loud that it washed over Emilia's small voice. Upon getting a closer look, Cecilia noticed Emi had been tearing up, or maybe crying. It was difficult to tell. Pauline pointed back at Emilia with an almost violent fervor. "What gives you the right to grab her heart and tear it into a million pieces?!" She violently jabbed a finger in her chest.

Cecilia looked down at her, ears ringing like nails scraping against a chalkboard as the pain in her heart allowed the anger to fester and grow.

"Say something," Pauline growled. "Not only did you and that other prick use her in this sick game, but you fucking used her as leverage? Really? Do you think people are just empty sacks of meat without feelings that you can string along to gain something? And you let this go on for so long—" she continued her verbal assault, recounting all of Cecilia's wrongs like she was crossing her t's and dotting her i's. Emilia had told her everything to the last detail, and none of it would be amiss.

The Unovan watched Emilia retreat back to Pauline's room, unable to listen to this beatdown. This was probably the last thing she'd wanted, and even she had her limits.

Oh, it was so easy with hindsight, wasn't it, Pauline? Saying that she should have done this, or that, or said this and that. That she should have just cut her off immediately as if Cecilia didn't fear harming her friendship by disappointing her, and genuinely thought she would give her good advice because of how mature she'd grown.

Cecilia was tired. But most of all, she feared that—that she would say something off should she speak.

"I'm sorry," Cecilia said. "I shouldn't have done any of it."

Pauline let out a comical, exaggerated laugh as her face contorted in near delirium. "You're just saying that. Look at you. Are you even sorry? Or is it just something you say in hopes of moving on?"

"I mean it," she said. "Are you done?" After each word had come a pause each more frustrated than the last.

"Oh. Getting a little angry, aren't you?" she taunted with an infuriating smirk and flicked her hair back. "Get out of my house."

Something snapped inside her—a taut string pulled too tight, finally breaking under the pressure. It was like the sound of a dam giving way, the sudden, sharp crack of something carefully held back shattering into release, leading to a maddened laugh that spread through the hall.

"And you think you're any better? You?!" she yelled. "Please. Spare me your belligerence."

Already, Pauline had turned away, but that caught her attention. "What," her eyes sharpened, and her face and body tightened like a rubber band stretched to its maximum, "the fuck are you saying?"

"I was nothing. Some stupid crush that didn't even matter. You were all she had for her entire life and you betrayed her by leading her on, lying to her about how you felt about Denzel while she was fighting to make a life for herself in Hearthome alone!" Cecilia knew how to hit where it hurt; she could even see a vein pop up on Pauline's forehead. The redhead clenched a fist, and her teeth nearly chattered in anger. "So screw you and your so-called morality. Every time, I have to be perfect. I have to read your minds! Every time I take people at their word and think they can handle me, they break! It's my fault; me, me, me!" This was dangerous. It felt so good. "Maybe Emilia should have just told me instead of hiding behind a veil of constant excuses. Have you considered that maybe, just maybe, I've been in the middle of trying to turn the fucking tanker that is my life, so sorry if I can't be just, oh so attentive to every little thing—"

She felt a sharp sting on her cheek, and the sound of a slap resonated a split-second later. She grinned, the physical pain a welcome sensation and distraction. Cecilia worked her jaw as the tingling faded, fingers grazing where she'd just been hit.

"How mature," she said. "I guess that proves my point."

"That wasn't for shittalking me. That was for being so fucking dense about what Emilia feels and blaming her for what you did," Pauline muttered.

Cecilia rolled her eyes. "A wonderful little lie."

"When did you become so fucking cold?" Pauline's voice wavered, and she allowed pain to show in her eyes for the first time. "I don't recognize you."

"Sorry if I didn't immediately prostrate myself before you and beg for forgiveness," she spat. "I became someone."

She immediately answered, "Yeah, well you became an asshole. 'Guess that's why you're single—or wait, I guess you're with that other asshole now. However long that lasts."

The words hurt like paper cuts all over her skin, but she forced a shrug. "I won't even deign to answer that."

"Right. Of course, you won't, that'd go against the pretentious shtick you've got going on." Pauline paused, foot tapping against the carpeted floor. "Hey, do me a favor. When you go to sleep tonight in the arms of a woman you don't love, you should ask yourself why the girl who got cheated on is losing her friends. Now fuck off."

The shouting match had caught the attention of a few attendants, however Cecilia was already leaving. It was strange. She felt light and unburdened, like the argument itself had fueled her shallow soul with personality. Deserved or not, she'd stood up for herself, and she had to admit that felt grand even if the satisfaction was tainted. The taste of it lingered, sharp and bittersweet. It felt good, that defiance, even if it came with the sting of consequence—a satisfaction laced with bitterness, like swallowing a poisoned piece of candy just for the taste. For once, she'd been her own voice, no matter how flawed. She did not feel the urge to run and take refuge, neither to Temperance who would have jumped at the occasion, nor Chase who would have made time if she truly needed it—she knew he would forever be in her corner. Instead, she just wished her Pokemon could be here. She'd even let go of her awful reaction to that Chatter post.

She didn't get a ride back in a car to the city outskirts where taking off with Lehmhart would be allowed.

Whatever. She could walk. She had, after all, turned the tanker.

A/N: One interlude inbound, and then a time skip.

---

Thank you to my Patreons - Spandaz, Alex Walters, ObsidianOlive, A Ferret, Oblige, Joe, Emilowish, Sean, Tim Schmidt, Dim, Violett T, Kail H, dragonslaver, Jon, RosaC, TsukiNoNeko, NPM, Jim A, Spicyice101, Vesperal, Addmolition exe, Frogsamurai, Alex F, Kiri, Rhuodric, Nord, Filthymacgyver, Grey J, creativityfails, Spartanstoryteller, Peter D, Bum, Zaire M, Plasmatique, Lodris, Chester, AnotherUser, BeautifulBusinessBoi, Papito12495, KeMon C, Geo, Pedro B, Rat, LR Brantley, ZZStrider, Sharkerxjak, Quakdoktor, nothingtoseehere, Mystic Corn, Paul S, coolblue, Ole W, Daniel J, Cosimo, Nick S, Pharros, Michael J, Jan, ChairmanK-, William F, Zhijia, Andy S, HeyMrJack, NineXO, Exceedes, Gustavo S, Serina T, lepton, sqw4l, Micah T, L'iien, Kisekibigdumb, Nikolai M, David G, endgame13, JK, Ian R, Rain, Jason H, Scandalion, ACertainName, Cosimo Yap, menirx, Pierre-Luc J., Alex A., Bridie, Christopher M

 

[Soussouni]

INTERLUDE - JOB APPLICATION

Another pellet arced through the air, and Wimpod shot forward, her legs flailing with anticipation as her mouth opened wide. Her legs wriggled in the air, her mouth clamped down, and she skittled away with the food to eat it hidden away from them behind the undergrowth as if it was at risk of being stolen. Even now, her instinct as a Pokemon of prey told her that she should always eat in secret to not lure predators to her location. Chase didn't mind. He even found it somewhat cute. The little bug—he had come to realize she was smaller than average for her species—chittered, and her entire body vibrated in glee as she nestled close to a nearby rock Zangoose had brought over to sharpen her claws, savoring her prize in private. Chase watched with a soft smile, keeping his movements slow and gentle, knowing too well that any sudden motion might send her running off even further.

It was a game of some sort. He'd throw her food, and she'd catch it. It made her a lot more active and was motivation for her training; Wimpod was, after all, working just as hard as the others in her own way. Her food now finished, she slowly scuttled toward Chase's wheelchair and jumped on his lap. He couldn't really feel her countless legs against his, but the subtle pressure of her light weight was still there. Each white segment of her body moved almost independently of each other.

"Feeling full?" he asked.

The water type screeched, her antennas lying flat against her body and her eyes barely opened.

"Nap time, then." His hand rubbed at the chitin and gave his other Pokemon a knowing look, asking them to be quiet.

Not that they'd been very active in the first place. They'd trained hard enough today and deserved a break. Vikavolt crawled on a tree with his wings fanned out as he cut berries off branches with his sharp mandibles. One of them fell on Houndoom's head, and the fire type growled in annoyance. His tail curled up, and he decided to switch spots, settling in next to Zangoose to feel fur against him. It wasn't soft—in fact, Chase would call it prickly, but the dark type enjoyed sticking close to something or someone to relax. Zangoose glared, flashing her teeth as she softly kicked him in the ribs, and Houndoom started playfighting with her, biting her legs with a hint of flames in his maw until she packed up and moved a few hundred feet away. Houndoom let out a sigh that sounded almost human before settling down beside Chase, who reached over with his free hand to gently stroke the Pokemon's head. Sigilyph, meanwhile, clearly wanted to follow Zangoose to her new resting spot, but the psychic shot Chase a look—

"Don't worry about it," he whispered with a shrug. "I'll send Vikavolt to get you if I need to move around." Rolling this stupid fucking chair around in the woods was impossible; it just wasn't meant for this environment. They'd settled in the woods west of Canalave, which were relatively dense. That was why his main method of transportation levitatation by Sig. Anywhere else, though, and he'd move on his own. He hated relying on others for mobility, and he still wasn't used to not being able to move his legs.

Too late to cry about it. At least that bitch Mars was dead and her clone was in prison.

Ri shot him a passing, worried glance. He'd been half meditating, half chatting with Zangoose before she'd been chased away by Houndoom.

"M'fine." Chase loved Ri, but Arceus, he was way too perceptive at times. Sometimes, he just wanted to brood on his own without someone asking if he was okay for the thousandth time. "I'm thinking about the Gym Fight."

Byron's Gym had opened its doors to sign-ups today and would be opening fully in two. Chase had basically camped outside the Gym's doors to be among the first to register, and it had worked. Now, he could finally get the answers he'd been looking for all these years.

If you say so, the Lucario spoke into his mind. His aura felt like a bucket of ice had dropped on his head. The team is always available if you need to vent about Abomasnow or your legs. We miss him too. Every day.

Chase rolled his shoulders as if to shake an invisible hand off. "I'll be fine." He'd raised his tone on accident—his eyes looked down at Wimpod, who hadn't noticed. With a calmer tone, he continued, "He wouldn't want me to get stuck… mourning. He'd want me to keep going."

A pale blue light danced in the fighting type's palm, forming a bone that turned to solid steel. It was so pure Chase could see his starter's reflection on its surface. Weakness is not a fault. You learned that already. It is a facet of human emotion like any other.

Feeling the morality lesson coming, Chase tried not to roll his eyes and absent-mindedly agreed. He knew Ri was right—it just wasn't what he needed to hear right now. All this sentimentality and regret, when he was so close to what this entire year had built up to—Chase grunted when Ri threw the bone at his face. He caught it, though his palms hurt from the impact.

"The fuck was that for?" he whispered in a hiss. "You could have hit Wimpod."

Ri smirked and grew another bone, this time quicker. I wouldn't have. I'm far too excellent to miss, and you have a big head.

Vikavolt snorted—a sharp, crackling hiss with a buzzing undertone—and he munched on more berries.

"Fuck off, Vikavolt." Chase threw the bone at the electric type, who simply directed it away through magnetism. It was heavier than it had looked, but the Iron Islander had kept his body active since becoming crippled—or disabled. Crippled was offensive according to Cecilia, and while he didn't care, the disappointed look she had every time he said it was annoying, so he'd been trying to cut down on the usage, even if he was the one the word was directed toward.

His legs, however? They were growing smaller and smaller by the week. He was keeping them moving through physical therapy Ri helped him with that he had continued from the hospital so they wouldn't atrophy, but that was all they could do.

I meant big figuratively, by the way, Ri specified with a laugh of his own.

"What if you broke my skull? Then what?"

Don't be a baby, now.

"I'm sending you out hunting next, asshole."

Chase was completely broke, which was a familiar sight for him. All of his money, he'd spent on TMs for the Pokemon who needed it, and the only payment he got each month was the LTIP money from the League. He didn't even have money to feed himself more than twice a day, so he'd been forced to eat whatever food his Pokemon brought back. Today, it had been berries from this tree they'd found. Trees with so many types of berry like this one were relatively rare in Sinnoh, but more abundant in the south. Granted, they ranged from blegh to fuckin' disgusting to his human palate when not processed, but they were at least edible and nutritious.

Plus, they weren't that ripe, but it wasn't like they had time to waste. He could have gone to a Pokemon Center for food, but he tried to avoid wasting time, and only food for humans was free.

It was all jokes amidst his camp from that point on, and honestly, Chase appreciated the lightened atmosphere. The burden of expectations was heavy, and should he fail, he would have to wait for months or even years for another opportunity. A few hours later—when the sun had set, another round of training had been completed, and they were preparing to settle down and sleep, Chase began to hear the faint sound of an engine far above him.

It was subtle at first, so much so that he thought his ears had been playing tricks on him. The fire they'd lit to illuminate their surroundings at some point, but luckily he'd recalled Wimpod into her ball hours earlier so she could sleep soundly. He'd been burned by her scares countless times already—enough to know that Zangoose would have been pissed. And whatever Zangoose felt, Sig would follow, and then he'd have a whole situation to deal with.

The trees bent to Golurk's engines. Their branches thrashed as the giant construct descended, its thrusters casting an eerie purplish-red glow across the forest floor. Leaves scattered in wild spirals, and the underbrush trembled. Chase had to spit out a mouthful as his wheelchair was pushed a few inches back until he gripped the wheels, and the wind nearly blew off his cap. That was the annoying thing about Golurk. Having one as a flier meant you couldn't be discreet, or at least Cecilia hadn't specialized that way. The ghost's trainer climbed off his back in a single, elegant hop she had practiced a thousand times, and she held her hair still so it didn't fly in front of her scarred face. Chase's Pokemon, who were already used to such commotion, ignored their arrival, though Zangoose was probably covering her ears in displeasure. Sig wasn't great at barriers.

"Cece," Chase said. "I thought you were coming by tomorrow night. Battling pep talk and all that." The Unovan stepped close to the fire, and Chase got a better look at her. She looked neither happy nor unhappy. A little melancholic, maybe—it was still tough to tell with the eyes sometimes. "'Sup?"

"I can leave and come back if I'm interrupting," she said.

"Nah, I wasn't doin' much. Just hanging with these fucks." Chase gestured toward his team. Vikavolt landed on his head—which he was way too big for—and started gnawing at his hat. "It's meant lovingly! Arceus! Get off me!"

By the time the bug type had zipped off with Chase's hat, and he wouldn't be back for an hour at least. Cecilia was grinning. So she wasn't hiding some kind of depression behind walls. Or at least not one large enough to see her collapse before him like when she'd just broken up with Grace. Those nights sure had been long.

She replied while he flattened his hair, which had now risen up due to static, "I have something to tell you, but maybe we should do our routine first."

"Sure." Had she looked like she needed it, then he would have pressed answers out of her. "So, Cecilia. What have you done to achieve your goals since we last saw each other?"

Words spilled out of her mouth. Training, research, reading news articles—more of the usual she'd been doing for weeks at this point. It was less of a thing to prove to each other that they were working toward their dream, though it was also that, but it was just something to hold each other accountable. Cecilia had come changed from her experience down south, and she wouldn't let the light within her go out for anybody. Something was new, however: a third meeting with her new co-workers yesterday. Cecilia called all of them good kids. Innocent, yet passionate to make it far, and ready to accommodate her despite the rumors swirling around in that country. Unova was basically shit covered in gold, wheras most regions were just shit. Chase didn't really care for them. Instead, he kept asking about this Juniper woman until his friend ran out of words.

It was his turn next, and his was more boring than it had been the last time they'd seen each other. He hadn't gone to the Iron Islands again like last week to talk to the people or see how they needed help. Instead, he'd stuck in these woods, going off-route to train with wild Pokemon who were either aggressive or who were looking for a challenge. Luckily, Cecilia often came by to hand over potions he couldn't afford, so his Pokemon were in good shape. All he'd done was more training every day.

"I fear that there might be something wrong with me on the social level. It unsettles me."

"This is what you wanted to speak about?" he asked.

His friend nodded, pulling a strand of hair behind her ear. "I did something objectively bad today, or at least I did according to Talonflame and Slowking." Golurk let out a booming sound of disapproval beside her. "And Lehmhart." She glanced up at him. "But parts of it made you happy too, it was fifty-fifty." The ground type patted the top of her head with a single finger, and she laughed at him.

The moon peeked in between the trees, shining some of its light on the surroundings.

Chase sighed, leaning against his palm as he stared at her through the crackling flames. "Tell me about it. I'll see if it's bullshit or not."

So she did.

Chase understood the gist of it. Romantic feelings were icky and weird, but he knew what they were supposed to be, or he thought so. Cece had strung Emilia along with her new girl Temperance until yesterday, and had gotten into a verbal fight with Pauline over it. She'd pointed out that she just wished Emilia had said something sooner so it didn't have to come to this instead of suffering in silence. It reminded her too much of her first relationship, and she hated that. As far as he knew, it was the first actual fight she'd ever gotten in with someone other than Grace when they'd broken up. He was almost proud of her—he could see why that big hulk of a golem was partly prideful as well. It must have been astonishing to see his trainer progress so quickly.

Almost.

Almost proud of her.

He also figured she was acting moronic.

"I don't think I'll be speaking to them anymore, unfortunately. And things are going to be awkward with Louis, since he's stuck in the middle of every side, but I've been rude to him. I figure he'll slowly drift away," the Unovan lamented with a deep sigh. Her hands folded neatly atop her lap. "I screwed it up. But I can't help but feel like I should be sadder, and yet the anguish isn't coming. That's why I'm saying I feel like there's something wrong with me."

It couldn't be ghost fuckery. That would have had the opposite effect—no, Cecilia was in control of her own emotions here.

"Just when I was starting to get along with her," Chase complained. They weren't really friends, but he'd enjoyed Emilia's company in the few times they'd seen each other since Coronet, even if part of that was most likely because she and Pauline had saved his life. "Sucks."

She winced, quick and hard. "Sorry."

"You're good, man. I make my own decisions on who to hang with."

Her eyes softened in relief. Maybe she'd thought he'd blow up at her and tell her to leave. The thought of it had never even popped up in his head until now. She'd done bad, yes, but she was hopefully learning. Like a child going to kindergarten and socializing for the first time, except she was leaving hurt in her wake. And in the grand scheme of things—if you took a step back and looked the situation in the eye, it wasn't much. Just some drama bullshit he'd tried to stay away from the entire year because it was honestly a waste of time. Unfortunately for him, Cecilia seemed to get involved in that a whole lot. Chase leaned back in his chair with a groan.

"You sound like an old man," she quipped.

"You sound like a bitch," he said back.

His friend chuckled, light dancing across her dark hair as it swayed with the movement of her face. "I do. I really wish I didn't. I've never done anything like this. It was always comply, comply, comply. Nod and smile, say sorry, lower your head, and act like you were worse than trash. And after reading Grace's post, I just saw red. Which is ironic, considering…" she motioned at her blank eyes.

"Who cares about what Grace is doing? Focus on yourself!"

"I was trying!" she countered, hands clenching on her lap. "I wasn't even looking at her socials! I haven't done that! People just talked about her on the forums!"

With another sigh, Chase grabbed water from the flask in his backpack, downing nearly all of its contents. "Look," he started as he closed the gourd. "You had your reasons. People always have their reasons for being assholes. I think. Some reasons are better than others, but at the end of the day, when the cards are all on the table, you're still an asshole. You've still hurt somebody, right? Or, uh, multiple people, in this case."

"Hmhm."

"And while in an ideal world, Emilia would have just told you to stop when you gave her the chance to end all of this and she technically did lie to you, people can't be expected to do what's best for themselves all the time." He waggled his finger and threw his flask back in his bag, though he missed. Houndoom grabbed it with his mouth and placed it back in. "Fucking up is a part of the human condition, I say. Some fuck ups are irredeemable in the eyes of those you hurt. No one in this world is owed forgiveness—forgiveness is a favor."

He thought of Grace, in that moment, and clenched his teeth. She'd been everything to her, and she couldn't be assed to wait a few weeks. At least she seemed to be doing well for herself with Maylene now, which was a good thing. Chase was no animal. He had principles—in this case not to hurt the one he was closest to—but he wished her to do well. Away from him.

Something about that level of betrayal just gave him the ick. He couldn't explain it.

Finally, he continued, "I don't know if this mistake is irredeemable; I'm not in their heads."

Lucario nodded sagely in his corner with that prideful look, and Chase harumphed in embarrassment.

"It most likely is." Her chest rose with a long breath. "What should I have done, then?" Cecilia asked. "Not bring her to that first party in the first place, for one. She would have disliked me for it, but it would have been better?" She paused, eyes narrowing and her brows knitting together. "Or I could have brought her but treated her better, staying only friendly with Temperance that day. Is that a fairer way of looking at it? But then would that have her think she had a chance? But I didn't know she liked me during that first party… maybe I could have guessed." She let out somewhat of a bitter laugh. "She'd been helping me so much, after all. Maybe I shouldn't have needed Temperance to tell me, but friends are always a bit of a blind spot. Goodness, it's so difficult. It feels like I have to treat everyone with kid gloves until I learn how to properly interact with them. Except you."

"Do me a favor and never say this kind of shit to anyone who isn't me." Chase didn't mind, but she sounded way too analytical. It'd come off as cold and unfeeling to most. He knew despite this that she was trying her best and that it was somewhat weighing on her, or she wouldn't have come here unprompted. "Though honestly, I don't know. I'm the last one you should come to for advice about this; I'm basically clueless. And I'd be the last one to go to some gathering of socialites no matter what I could get out of it."

"You'd be surprised at the quality of your advice. I'm blessed to have you."

"Huh. That's nice. What about your girl—Temperance? Isn't she good at that kind of thing?"

Cecilia snorted. "And bleed myself upon the altar of dependence once again? You might as well be telling me all my work has been for naught." Her gaze softened for a moment—but just a moment. "She's nice. Nicer than I thought someone of her status would be. But I'm bad for her. I should probably break up with her tonight or tomorrow."

"What d'you mean?" Chase asked.

"You wouldn't get it if I explained to you how we interact." Cecilia drummed her fingers against Lehmhart's leg, and the ghost let out a soothing thrum. "She's told me she's fine with it, but you know, what if she's also lying to herself? What if two weeks from now, she realizes she's not okay with being used as a rebound and she blows up at me?"

Chase stayed silent for a moment. "What's a rebound?"

"Oh God." She began to laugh. "Oh, God!" she cackled and doubled over.

"What?! Don't lord over me on your throne of…" he dismissively waved a hand at her, "fucked up relationships! I don't know what it means! So what?!" He felt a little shame, but it was good to see her laugh.

"I'm—sorry. Hah." Cecilia wiped a tear away. It took her another few seconds to be well enough to speak. "It's a bit of a reactionary relationship. When you're deeply hurt by your previous breakup and you throw yourself into the arms of another for refuge. Most of them are temporary."

"And she knows this? And she's willing to date your broken ass anyway?" Chase was so surprised his mouth half-gaped. "The fuck?"

"I asked her to make me fall in love with her," Cecilia said. "I'm not that far, nowhere near, but I'm learning to appreciate her. Give it another few months, or maybe weeks, and I could see myself dating her for her. Liking her."

Chase couldn't find a response, so all he did was shake his head in confusion. Legendaries, how had he ended up in this position, giving love advice? "Does she make you happy right now?"

"Not exactly—or I should say there are some moments; they grow more frequent because we spend so much time together."

"I mean, I'm no expert, but it sounds like you could make this work, no? Just wait for time to pass and… be honest with her about it."

"Oh, I have been honest. She's giddy with excitement." The Unovan pursed her lips and crossed her legs. "I don't like it, to tell you the truth."

He leaned forward, nearly falling off his chair. He pushed himself off his armrests and gripped them tight. "You don't want to explore a potential path to happiness?"

"When you put it like that—"

"I'm putting it like that because it is that, moron."

"—I don't want to be all 'it would never be the same as it was with her,' because to tell you the truth, I don't think we were ever that. Truly happy." She paused, finding her thoughts as she looked at the moon. "There were flashes of it, yes, but it was a blessing when they came. I just don't think I'd ever be able to give Temperance my full attention. She'd be better off with someone else, and I think eventually she'll figure it out and leave—especially over long distance—which is why I think I should break things off—"

"I'll kill you."

She let out a little surprised sound, almost a grunt. "Again? Dying a fourth time would be gauche after all the help I got."

"Four? I thought that'd make it twice—never mind. Look, just give it a try, okay? Take a chance on yourself. Not just for me or your team, but for yourself. I see what you're doing." He pointed accusingly at her. "Grace cheated on you. She left you, so you think everything's going to be the same and find another person, so you want to be the first to leave so you're hurt less." Or at least he thought so. That made sense, right?

She stayed silent a long while. Chase didn't know if that was a good or a bad sign. She stared at the dancing flames, eyes darting from ember to ember as they floated up and dissipated in the sky. Eventually, finally, she rubbed her face with an extended exhale that seemed to sync to her Golurk's ambient song.

"I'd fuck it up." That was neither an agreement nor a disagreement— "I can try."

"If you do, I'll be there to help ya, pal."

She left soon afterward, looking the saddest she'd been since coming by.

—

A whisper.

"Good luck. Don't dim your light."

Cecilia gently patted him on the shoulder and squeezed. In front of him lay the result of a year of hard work and sixteen years of internal strife. Byron Fisker, draped in his childish cape and his dirty garb as if he didn't have the money to dress properly. As if he was still a miner from the Iron Islands and not a traitor to his class, the useful idiot prop Teracore could parade around and say 'look, someone who was born there's totally fine with what we're doing!' Chase barely heard Cecilia walk down the steps of the Gym platform. She'd pushed him up there and spoken to him until the very last moment, and for that, he would forever be grateful.

He tightened his grip on the wheels of his chair, bracing himself for a moment before locking it securely, ensuring he wouldn't slip down the stairs or ramp. This wasn't the first time Chase had come face-to-face with Byron. Years ago, when he and the few survivors of Falkirk had been evacuated, he'd seen the man. The Gym Leader had come to meet them personally, hear their worries and so and so. He could remember it as clear as day. Gripping the man's wrist with all of his strength, tears in his eyes, begging for something to be done. For the islands to see justice. For them to live just as well as the mainland. After all, wasn't he one of them? How could he just look at this and do nothing?

"I'll help," Byron had said. "I promise."

Years later?

Nothing.

Not one new Pokemon Center. Not one new hospital. Not one new Ranger Station. Not one new reform to protect workers. Not one new policy to make it easier to move out of the islands for a better life. Not one initiative to revive the villages that were slowly dying or stagnating. Not one school upgraded or new one built. Not one investment to give their children hopes of becoming trainers instead of watching them stay in search of a future that currently didn't exist for them here. Not one bridge built. Not one program to ensure their safety, their health, or their prosperity. Just promises, empty promises, while they struggled to keep our homes from crumbling around them. Two Falkirk-tier disasters in the years he'd left since; entire small towns wiped off the map.

He had researched all of this. Cecilia had made him so he wouldn't complain or show up here without knowing the bigger picture. It was as if the islands were being perpetually kept in limbo, never changing, never growing. A prison made for his ancestors and his descendants to keep mining until their bones broke and they died alone at home because they could no longer move and their only caretaker was too busy working the mines or fishing to put food on the table and the nearest hospital was a ferry ride away with tickets that cost months of wages.

What they did get instead?

A new deepwater port to export more iron.

Fucking. Liar.

"Challenger," Byron said, "send out your first Pokemon."

Chase adjusted his suit and tie. "Glady," he whispered, before bellowing. "And this is a job application, by the way!"

Amidst confused looks in the audience and from Byron, he sent out Vikavolt and braced himself.

—

Holding one person accountable meant that there was no room for hesitation, no tolerance for weakness. When accountability fell on a single set of shoulders, it demanded resilience stronger than iron and a will sharper than any blade. It was a weight that could crush a person or forge them into something harder, something able to stand against pressure others would flee from. It wasn't about blame or punishment; it was about strength, discipline, and a commitment that could only be trusted by those who were tempered enough to bear it.

It meant one thing.

To be unyielding like steel.

Through weeks of training, and perhaps this past year, Chase had forged a new tempered self. One who listened instead of screamed, who looked and observed before making a decision that would be rash. His Pokemon had watched his back grow taller and taller and had thrown themselves into what it meant to be him. It did not matter what the battle was like, for its results had already been determined, but what mattered was how they had pushed themselves to their limits to learn the ways of steel.

Vikavolt's shell gleamed with the hardened sheen of iron as it barreled into Skarmory with the force of a landslide, an unstoppable avalanche of weight and momentum. The impact was brutal, reverberating through the air with a sound that seemed to shake the very ground beneath them, like mountains colliding. The force was enough to shatter and tear through the toughest steel. With every beat of his wings, a torrent of Thunder bore down on the ground, and he carried with him shards of the battlefield he could manipulate to his will.

Zangoose traded blows with a Lucario whose body seemed more bone than flesh, a skeletal figure held together by sheer will and hardened resolve. But her claws and fur were like iron, every swipe carrying the weight of tempered steel. Each clash resounded with the metallic ring of two living weapons colliding, refined ferocity, precision and speed meeting raw strength and the sheer joy of battling through pain.

Sigilyph hovered with an eerie calm, her eyes narrowing as she focused on the looming Aggron. With a sudden flicker of her rune-covered wings, she unleashed a Flash Cannon, a beam of concentrated steel energy that shot forward like a silver bolt. The blast struck Aggron's armored chest with a resounding clang, forcing the steel-clad giant back a step. Undeterred, she twisted gracefully in the air, wings glowing with metallic light as she readied a Steel Wing that coated them in a sheen, using her psychic power to gathered bits of the broken field to gather more and more material until her wings were the width of the entire arena and each strike hit like a ton.

Houndoom crouched low, his dark fur bristling as he squared off against Empoleon, whose regal, steel-blue feathers gleamed under the battlefield lights. With a snarl, Houndoom's eyes glinted with a menacing burn as he unleashed an Iron Tail, swinging his hardened tail in a swift arc. The strike clanged against Empoleon's chest armor, sparking as steel clashed with steel.

Some of these battles ended in failure. Houndoom failed to take down his foe while Zangoose was overwhelmed by Lucario's ferocity. That was fine. They were here to pitch, not to win. To eventually speak with the man who had taken so much from Chase and Ri through inaction. Even Wimpod got a little action with Metal Claw she'd learned from Zangoose, though the fear took a hold of her within a minute and she screeched enough to cut Chase's heart in two, and he recalled her.

Ri—

Ri faced a small Steelix who moved at speeds it had no right to move at, its massive body coiling and snapping forward with fluidity unexpected for. In fact it moved so quickly that the friction in the air made it glow red like one of those rockets from Hoenn reentering the atmosphere. Byron's personal Steelix, one who was hailed to be among the fastest in the entire world. Bone Rush had turned from ground type to steel, and Ri's sheer strength was enough to go toe to toe with the giant. This one felt personal. They went all out, using bursts of aura from the soles of Ri's feet to fly and ramming bones in its segments just like the old times in Mount Coronet.

In the end—

Chase lost three to six. He still would have lost had he used something other than steel type moves, but to be quite honest, he could not give less of a fuck. What mattered would come now.

"You were holding back," Byron immediately noticed when they met beside the broken-up battlefield. "Using steel to fight when it's not your specialty. Your Houndoom didn't even use any fire."

"I didn't lie when I said this was a job interview, sir," Chase said. Arceus, he hated looking up at him. It was still a complex he needed to get over, having to look up at everyone he met. "I'm applying to be one of your battle-specialized Gym Trainers on behalf of the Iron Islands and its people. They're counting on me."

Byron leaned against his shovel with a look of understanding as if he'd expected this to happen one day. He gestured over to one of his Gym Trainers, asking him to take over for the next battle, and said this:

"Follow me."

—

It felt strange, standing behind the door Gym Leaders usually emerged from—a place typically hidden, like the back of a store counter or an office desk. It was a view Chase had never imagined he'd see. But now, with his own ambitions set on this role, he figured he'd better get used to it. Of course, he hadn't been hired yet, and even if he was, he'd be up against a dozen others vying for Byron's spot someday. Inside, rows of large lockers lined the walls, labeled from '0 badge' to '8 badge,' though there were far more of the former than the latter. It was common knowledge that as trainers rose in level, the number of Pokemon a Gym could field against them steadily dwindled.

"Do you want anything? I know a battle can take a lot out of a man, especially one that intense. You were really into it." Byron sat down on one of the chairs, legs spread out and resting his chin on both his fists as he stared at Chase. "I can make you a coffee."

"I don't need anything," he said. "Let's talk."

The man nodded, running a tired hand through his burgundy hair. "You said this was a job application."

"To be a Gym Trainer for the Canalave Gym." Chase adjusted his tie, more as a reflex than something he needed to do. "What did you think of the way my Pokemon fought? Did I show enough expertise?"

"Plenty. You taught them the art of steel types well—I was honestly surprised. When I heard you were coming to fight, I thought you'd rage at me. For everything."

Chase raised an eyebrow. "I wanted to, but it wouldn't have fixed anything. You're shit to the Iron Islands. I know that, and you know that." He moved closer, fingers tightening around his wheels. "So why? Explain it to me," he said. "Please."

If Chase had to guess, Byron looked distinctly uncomfortable with the topic. The Gym Leader was many things, but restrained was not one of them. Now, he seemed to recoil inward like some sort of dying creature or a newborn ghost exposed to the sunlight. Chase couldn't help but feel satisfied at that, because at least it meant that he cared. But on the other hand, him caring and not doing anything left a taste of bile in his mouth. Had he never expected at least one Iron Islander to make their way here and demand answers? If not Chase, then someone else would have come eventually, even if it took years.

"I knew it would happen eventually," Byron forced out. His voice was tight and constrained, never losing that gravely tone. "It feels like my sins have finally caught up to me. It feels like I'm staring my failure in the face."

"Well," he said, "we couldn't all stay good little pets and die ignorant."

Byron stood once more and began to pace around the room, shovel rasping against the metallic floor with each step as if it were his third leg. Behind the doors, restrained bursts of cheers could be heard for whatever battle was being fought.

"You've served this country well by being an instrumental part of ridding ourselves of Team Galactic." Byron's gaze drifted to Chase's legs. Fuck him. "I owe you answers."

Chase wanted to retort, to say that he was owed answers regardless of whatever he had to do to save this world, but he wasn't going to ruin things when he was so close. Byron went to lock the door, noting that a seven-badge battle would take a while, and with a sigh, he began to talk.

"I started working in the mines when I was thirteen. My dad busted his leg in an accident on the job, and my mother's back had always been bad, so it fell onto me to feed us."

"Happens." It was a common story among the islands. Chase had been lucky his dad had been so sturdy and had allowed him to live a sheltered life for so long. "And?"

"I was small back then. Could fit into holes no one else could, and I was a fast learner. The supervisors always had something good to say about me—"

"So you could sit and stay and give them your paw when they asked you too?" he immediately said. "Sorry. Keep going."

Byron scratched the back of his unkempt hair. "One day, I stumbled upon a fossil. Bastiodon."

Back in the day, Chase would have asked how he'd gotten the money to revive a Shieldon when he was some poor miner with no money. Today, he'd come well-researched. It was a lottery of some sort—a promise to keep them all docile, one that would keep them dreaming for years as their arms broke upon iron ore. If you find a fossil, you either get to sell it to Teracore or revive it on their Pokedollar. Of course, the odds of finding a fossil were nearly zero, but every time people went to mine, they did so with hope of a single event that could take them overseas to a better life.

Most chose to sell to Teracore and get the fuck out with their families. Records had been difficult to find because Teracore was a tight lipped operation who had cordoned off most news coming out of the Iron Islands, and these people had always stayed anonymous before selling out of fear of getting hurt or worse because someone could want to steal their ticket to a better life. He'd needed to ask actual miners for the information during his visits. Byron? Byron chose to keep his fossil and become a trainer.

"I wanted to become a Gym Leader. I wanted to save the Iron Islands." He brought up his hand, as if to grip something Chase couldn't see, and he snatched the air before sagging like a stringless puppet. "I became the Gym Leader of Oreburgh first because my predecessor was old, and that was the best opening. There, I racked up experience and improved the lives of miners in the city." He shut his eyes tightly. "I thought I'd be able to do the same here. I was so excited at the prospect that I neglected my son and made him take over my Gym so he would preserve my reforms. I was wrong."

"You tried?"

"I could not even do one percent of what I wanted," he lamented. "This position has more chains than you think it does, boy."

"Do you want to be more detailed with that?"

"You get there," he said, "You take the seat, and you look upon everything you have power over. And it's just such a tangled, complicated mess—but that's not just it." He gripped his hair. "You… get contacted by both the League and Teracore about what sleeps beneath our shores. And you get utterly paralyzed."

Chase squinted. "What?"

Despair. Byron was despairing, eyes wide with the sheer horror of the knowledge that had gripped him by the throat all these years. To see him—the symbol of his oppression—so weak, was not what he had expected.

"You already have the highest clearance beneath the Champion," he said. "You deserve to know."

He was nearly breathless. "What is it?"

Byron grimaced, and answered with a whisper, "The source of all iron within our lands; the monster who has been sleeping there for untold millennia; Registeel."

—

Many beasts dotted this world. Monarchs with domains, each one more different than the last. Pokemon who were simply strong, both wild or trained, like that Steelix who had flattened his hometown or Cynthia's Garchomp. But there were the true monsters—the horrors that kept you up at night and that were truly impossible to put down for good. Cecilia had told him of Dialga, the ruler of Time whose mere roar had made her see her life split in four, or Giratina who still haunted her at night whenever she deigned to close her eyes for too long.

Registeel. The Iron Pokemon. The Alloy. Source of all iron that perpetually grew throughout the islands and the reason why Sinnoh was the largest manufacturer of steel in the entire world by far. They were quite literally getting rich off a sleeping God and had been for as long as Sinnoh had existed as a political entity. Even when the Iron Islands had been independent and had been Canalave's rival!

"There's much we don't know about it, but we also do know a lot. The fact that electrical devices malfunction when you get too close—or that it gives you cancer—"

"It gives you cancer?!"

"Not unless you're within its chamber for hours at a time!" Byron yelled. "Islanders are safe."

"What the actual fuck, Byron?" Chase screamed back. "Do you know what this implies? Are we in danger?!"

"No. The two times it's woken up, we've contained it." Byron traced the edge of his shovel with a trembling finger. "Well, Cynthia and whatever Elite Four she has available with her—Flint, Bertha or Lucian. I get the reports about all that pertains to Registeel, down to whatever sounds it's made that day. Every. Day."

"You can't…" obviously they couldn't kill it. "You can't move it?"

"Even if we could do that without jeopardizing hundreds of thousands of lives—Registeel is one of Sinnoh's main economic forces. They'd never risk it moving to some other country."

"So we get that thing buried under us mainly because it's profitable?" If he could, he would have laughed at how absurd it sounded. "Why does Teracore even know about this?"

"Because they work the land. They need to, or an accident would for sure have happened. Only their higher ups know, but they need to in order to implement their mining policies."

"And you can't tell them to fuck off and replace them with another company because they have decades of experience."

"Centuries. They've existed in some form or another for 473 years, mining for whatever Champion reigns." He shook his head in dismay. "And changing the status quo becomes terrifying when you know about it all. If I for example fight tooth and nail for two years to lower the quota every miner has to bring back—the unbalance has a chance to wake Registeel up more frequently. I allow the use of machines—beyond attracting more angry wild Pokemon, what if the electricity agitates Registeel? There's a reason all we use is gas lamps and non-electric tools deep underground."

"Fuck."

"Fuck," Byron mirrored. "You have it now. The entire story."

"But wait. What if you—that doesn't change not building more schools or hospitals!" Sure, he theoretically couldn't change mining practices—which Chase would have to figure out eventually—but what did that have to do with life outside of the mines?

Dead eyes stared back at him. "There's a balance that must be maintained. Things must remain as they are."

"Huh?"

"It's been the same way for so long. It's beyond me. Beyond even Cynthia. I'm unfortunately a cog in the machine."

Ah.

So he was an asshole.

The vindication felt disgusting to Chase. A small little part of him wished there would have been a reason for it all.

There was a reason. It was all just bullshit. Smoke and mirrors, self justification that went so far that it became a whole lot of nothing. We can't build a new hospital because of Registeel. We can't teach people how to read because of Registeel. We can't pay people more because of Registeel. Say it out loud, and it sounded delusional.

"You're a coward," Chase realized. "You're scared of putting your hands on the steering wheel because you might crash the car."

Byron said nothing. He could barely face him. "I am. I am truly sorry."

"And you want me to just accept that? To just smile and wave and say that I understand?" He scoffed, throwing his hands up in the air. "I bet those higher ups at Teracore are lying half the time while they squeeze profit out of us! We're a fucking colony!"

Eyes wandered his way until they stayed transfixed on Chase. "Do you know how tough it is to have to make the call that our people living in squalor might be better than tens of thousands—if not more people getting killed in an afternoon? Containment is the policy that takes precedent over everything. Team Galactic even tried to worm their way into that chamber without my knowing—I—" his shoulders sagged. "My tenure has been a failure. That's why I haven't been back to the Iron Islands. I'm far too ashamed, and I see how they look at me. I don't blame them."

"So far, it has been," Chase said. "So save your legacy. Hire me."

"And make you my successor?" Byron let out a saddened laugh and slapped his knee with a sluggish movement of his hand. "This is the strangest job interview I've ever given."

"Well, it's my first. But what I'm saying is—I can handle it. The weight that comes with every decision." Responsibility was something he'd learned long ago. "I won't pretend like I don't have a lot to learn or that I'd be better than you immediately, but give me a chance. Change can come slow at first. It can be gradual at first, but we have to start now."

"I'm not sure if—"

"You can. You can, but you're a coward," Chase said. "Here. Why don't we start by doing something small. Upgrade and restaff the hospital in First Landing." It was the minimum, but Chase at least needed to get his foot in the door before the floodgates of change opened. First Landing was the biggest town in the Iron Islands and its hospital was basically non-functional half the time. "Cover the costs like the public hospitals on the mainland."

A hand outstretched.

Byron shook it and nodded. The grip was firm.

"You start tomorrow morning. You have much to learn—there's a lot that goes into running a Gym. And I suppose I could learn from you."

"I'll make you proud."

That was meant for his people.

---

Thank you to my Patreons - Spandaz, Alex Walters, ObsidianOlive, A Ferret, Oblige, Joe, Emilowish, Sean, Tim Schmidt, Dim, Violett T, Kail H, dragonslaver, Jon, RosaC, TsukiNoNeko, NPM, Jim A, Spicyice101, Vesperal, Addmolition exe, Frogsamurai, Alex F, Kiri, Rhuodric, Nord, Filthymacgyver, Grey J, creativityfails, Spartanstoryteller, Peter D, Bum, Zaire M, Plasmatique, Lodris, Chester, AnotherUser, BeautifulBusinessBoi, Papito12495, KeMon C, Geo, Pedro B, Rat, LR Brantley, ZZStrider, Sharkerxjak, Quakdoktor, nothingtoseehere, Mystic Corn, Paul S, coolblue, Ole W, Daniel J, Cosimo, Nick S, Pharros, Michael J, Jan, ChairmanK-, William F, Zhijia, Andy S, HeyMrJack, NineXO, Exceedes, Gustavo S, Serina T, lepton, sqw4l, Micah T, L'iien, Kisekibigdumb, Nikolai M, David G, endgame13, JK, Ian R, Rain, Jason H, Scandalion, ACertainName, Cosimo Yap, menirx, Pierre-Luc J., Alex A., Bridie, Christopher M

 

[Soussouni]

Spoiler: Team

Togekiss/Princess (Hustle) - Pound, Sweet Kiss, Growl, Headbutt, Fairy Wind, Ancient Power, Extrasensory, Thunder Wave, Air Cutter, Wish, Psychic, Shadow Ball, Dazzling Gleam, Moonblast, Charge Beam, Air Slash, Mystical Fire, Tri-Attack, Nasty Plot, Defog

Jellicent/Buddy (Water Absorb) - Bubblebeam, Night Shade, Absorb, Water Sport, Water Pulse, Hex, Poison Sting, Mist, Acid Armor, Shadow Ball, Recover, Brine, Whirlpool, Hydro Pump, Water Spout, Acid, Will-O-Wisp, Ice Beam, Taunt, Scald, Boil, Freeze, Protect, Ice Blade, Rain Dance, Extrasensory

Electivire/Honey (Motor Drive) - Thundershock, Swift, Elemental Swift, Thunder Punch, Charge, Leer, Ice Punch, Thunderbolt, Discharge, Fire Punch, Protect, Cross Chop, Thunder, Low-Kick, Screech, Radiant Leap, Static Shield, Bulldoze, Hammer Arm, Rain Dance, Lightning Bolt

Tangrowth/Angel (Chlorophyll) - Vine Whip, Absorb, Mega Drain, Stun Spore, Bind, Poison Powder, Leech Seed, Ancient Power, Power Whip, Knock Off, Sunny Day, Giga Drain, Sleep Powder, Solar Beam, Solar Blade, Brick Break, Ingrain, Bulldoze

Tyranitar/Sweetheart (Sand Stream) - Leer, Tackle, Horn Attack, Rock Throw, Payback, Stomping Tantrum, Smack Down, Bite, Rock Slide, Crunch, Sandstorm, Iron Defense, Dragon Pulse, Iron Head, Earthbreaker, Aerial Ace, Stone Edge, Dark Pulse, Rock Polish, Surf, Earthquake, Ice Fang, Flamethrower

Turtonator/Sunshine (Shell Armor) - Smog, Ember, Smokescreen, Incinerate, Iron Defense, Flamethrower, Shell Trap, Dragon Pulse, Bulldoze, Scorching Sands, Rock Tomb, Body Slam, Flash Cannon, Solar Beam, Rapid Spin, Scale Shot, Iron Tail, Focus Blast, Sunny Day, Fire Pillar, Flame Charge, Heat Crash, Fire Blast, Shell Smash

Claydol/Cassianus (Levitate) - Mud Slap, Rock Tomb, Rapid Spin, Harden, Confusion, Psychic, Barrier, Imprison, Wide Guard, Light Screen, Reflect, Ancient Power, Teleport, Earth Power, Sandstorm, Scorching Sands

Meltan/Mimi (Magnet Pull) - Harden, Acid Armor, Tail Whip / Not a battler

---

A/N: Here it is. Sinnoh's final arc, and a new one begins slowly, as always.

CHAPTER 338

"Do you have your toothbrush?"

I paused for a second, eyes meeting Maylene's, and she smirked at me while leaning against the doorframe of my apartment. She was lucky her smugness was always accompanied by an unbeatable force that I couldn't go against unless she pushed too far.

She was just really cute.

"I knew you'd forget something," she said.

"One thing. One." Leaving her in front of my apartment door, I scrambled to my bathroom and ignored her yells that running was unneeded. I swept my toothbrush and toothpaste, shoving them in my backpack which was admittedly running out of space. After one last look around the room, I sped back to the entrance, struggling to put my bag back around my shoulder until Buddy helped with a makeshift limb from under my shirt. "Okay. Now I'm ready—wait."

I glanced at the ceiling, going through a mental checklist of what I had with me, hand wrapped around the handle of my suitcase. It wasn't really my fault I'd forgotten. Usually in hotels and in Pokemon Centers, they just gave you that stuff, and my brain was still in 'you'll be staying in a hotel' mode instead of where we were actually going. Plus, with all the excitement buzzing around—how could I not forget something? It was a miracle that I'd even managed to pack when the Conference would begin tomorrow morning!

"Yeah. I'm probably ready."

"Hrm…"

Maylene's arms wrapped around me slowly, where she stayed for a few seconds and leaned against my shoulder. Her new pink hearing aid looked really good on her, and we were matching, now. These were a lot better than the emergency one I'd needed to use after my battle with Gardenia.

"What's up?" I laughed a little before returning the hug. "I mean it's nice." I rubbed the back of her head, softly digging against her scalp. She smelled so good… Arceus, no, no, those were bad thoughts to have. "Something wrong?"

"I'm just happy I'm finally off work and we can spend more time together. It's been so busy lately."

"Right." Between Poketch and the rush from her Gym, we'd gone more than a week without seeing each other in person at times. "But this month's ours. We'll have a lot of fun!"

"Don't try to act like you aren't nervous." I didn't see her smile, but I could tell she was anyway because of her voice. "I can feel your Jellicent through your shirt by the way…" she grumbled. "Kind of ruins things."

The ghost type let out a click, half apologizing, half not understanding what it was with us humans and skin-on-skin contact. Mimi chimed in agreement around my neck, that little rascal.

"I mean if you want," I paused, interrupting the hug to grab Buddy's Pokeball, and recalled him for a moment before outstretching my arms. "There."

She sank into me again, this time running her hands under my shirt—but in appropriate areas, just to feel me. She had me pushed against the walls of the hallway; I could feel each shiver within her when I ran nails behind her back. Thinking about it, this probably had the opportunity to turn into practice if I pushed for it, but would we be late? Probably not, I thought as my lips grazed her neck. And worst-case scenario, she'd told me Candice and Volkner were always late to these things—

Maylene froze around me for a second, and then detached herself without a word, leaving me wanting. A few moments later, one of the neighbors passed by with groceries in hand, greeting us with a polite smile before stepping into her apartment. She'd gotten used to seeing Maylene around here, and it was often underestimated how easily people could get used to seeing famous people around their living spaces.

"Legendaries!" My girlfriend shuddered, hugging herself tight. Her face was as red as a tomato. "We almost got caught!"

I rolled my eyes. "We were just hugging."

"My neck begs to differ!" It was funny seeing her making wanting eyes at my lips before realizing what she was doing and internally scolding herself. "You were basically about to kiss me!"

Damn it. I should have dragged her inside instead of doing this out there. "At least we can hold hands in public now." The teasing did not go unnoticed, and she grumbled something unintelligible under her breath. Just that, and not for long. Going beyond was still too embarrassing for her. "But you're right." I raised a knowing finger. "There's a time for everything!"

At least we weren't going to be late. I locked the door, and once Maylene grabbed my suitcase before I could say anything, we made our way to the elevators. I kind of complained, but not really. I mean, I wasn't going to say no to seeing her arms exert themselves carrying both her and some of my stuff, and summer was the perfect season for her numerous tank tops. Her suitcase was a lot smaller than mine, but she'd assured me that she'd have enough clothes and that worst-case scenario, she'd just go home and grab some more at an opportune time.

Gym Leader privilege. Privilege that I was now privy to, for better or worse for my public image. Cass was getting better at it, but long-distance across a region was still a pipe dream and months away.

Maylene pressed the elevator button and warned, "You'll have to behave in the house with the others." She gave me a knowing look.

"Psht." I waved a hand in dismissal. "I can behave."

She threw her head back and laughed. "Yeah. And you can also do more than fifteen pushups in a row," she said, tone dripping with sarcasm.

"I'm serious! I'm not gonna do anything bad, okay?"

Maylene kicked her feet, suddenly a little shy. "It wouldn't be… bad. Just not while they're in the house, it'd feel weird."

"Of course!" I wasn't about to be that brazen. "I promise!"

When we stepped into the elevator, someone was already inside. We stayed quiet until he got off on the first floor—he was probably going to the recycling chute—and we continued on our way to the ground floor.

"Sucks that I couldn't say goodbye to your dad," Maylene lamented.

"Work doesn't stop, yeah," I said with a small nod. He wasn't actually going to arrive until tomorrow for the opening ceremony, the same as Mom.

"Feels like he just doesn't want to see me. I mean, I get it, but it sucks."

"What?" I scoffed. "Come on, he—"

The doors opened. I could see the Kadabra waiting for us beyond the apartment complex's lobby—I recognized this one because of the slight bent and rust in his spoon. You got used to recognizing them when you relied on their services so much.

"It's tough for him because of his… history," I added as we stepped out. "But he genuinely does want to get to know you better! He's a softie at heart. And he does like you!"

Maylene glanced at me. "Dinner was weird, though."

She was talking about dinner the last time we'd seen each other last week, where I'd decided to finally rip off the band-aid and let them see each other again after everything that had come to pass. Everything had just been off that night, from the way she tripped over her words the entire time to how he seemed to be way more difficult in his test of character than he'd ever been when he met Cecilia in Hearthome. It hadn't been a disaster, but it hadn't been great either.

"It wasn't weird, it was… offbeat," I said.

"Hm. Offbeat." She paused as we stepped out of the apartment. "I like that."

"Yours truly has a way with words." I bent down in an exaggerated bow.

"Don't let your head get too big now, dork. Now it's your turn to get eaten alive by my family."

"It won't be that bad. Candice is already my friend! Gardenia's… cool." My lips tugged upward a little. "It's the others I'm worried about."

The Conference was an entire month of festivities, battles, and high activity all concentrated within a single island. Pokemon Centers and hotels were going to be packed full, and some people even set up tents outside of the League in designated areas to stay the entire month, opting to use the Centers' public showers or the many laundromats that dotted the city to keep themselves going the entire month. Gym Leaders? They got to stay in their own place a ways away from all the activity of the bustling League—a quiet retreat of sorts. According to Maylene, there were two homes, one for the adults and another for the… well, they weren't kids, considering only Maylene and I were under eighteen, but they were of the younger generation. Each was close enough to be considered the same property and shared a yard with a pool, so it'd be a real opportunity to show them what I was made of. I'd proven myself to Gardenia and Candice, but what about the others? In a way, this entire month would be another battle of some sort.

Ugh. Now I was a little nervous. But it'd be better if it hit me now instead of the moment I made it there.

This was a recent addition to how things were organized and was only two years old. It had been pushed mainly by Candice, Roark, and Wake from what Maymay had said in her extensive lessons. I was a last-minute addition, so I'd have to room with Maylene for the month. It was a big step forward, especially considering I still had never stayed over at her Gym overnight even after we started officially dating, but we only had a little under two months left before I went to Unova. Poketch had already set a date.

It was okay to be greedy once in a while. And if things went badly, I could always stay with either Mom or Dad. I doubted I'd find space in a Pokemon Center or a hotel this late. Outside, we greeted the sheepish-looking Kadabra and allowed him to take note of everything he needed to Teleport before he began to concentrate. I felt a little naked without Buddy under my shirt, but it'd just give Kadabra extra work, so I waited until he Teleported us to release him again. It felt a little chillier and drier as soon as we appeared further north at the Lily of the Valley.

I could hear the faint noise of the flurry of activity down in the city—hell, I could even see it some. Ferries docking at the Lily's port, helicopters flying overhead for the richest patrons, and people dotting the streets like little bugs, each going about their day and getting ready for tomorrow's ceremony. Beyond trainers or companies using this month as an opportunity to drive sales, the League itself would try to recuperate as many losses it had incurred as possible during the past year of dealing with Team Galactic. You'd be hard-pressed to go two minutes before seeing them selling anything they managed to scrounge up. Elite-Four based merchandise, training classes and workshops, and of course, anything a trainer would need for the month, including items.

I had a few ones in mind—though they were more for a funny little story than anything. It wasn't like they were game-changing.

My friends would arrive later in the day too, including Marley. Lauren was going to participate, I'd heard, and I'd love to reconnect with her and Mira before I left.

And Cecilia was going to be here too, I assumed.

Maylene gently bumped my elbow with hers, catching my attention. Kadabra was gone, and all that remained was making our way to the Gym House. It was a few minutes away because the psychic had never been, so we'd have to walk for a bit.

Things were a little confusing with the group at the moment. There'd been a falling out between Pauline and Cecilia—the former had told me all about it—and now Cecilia was more separated from them than ever, save for her connections with Louis and Chase. These days, you'd most likely find her with Temperance's clique most of the time. She'd walked all over Emi's feelings with the tact of an uncaring bulldozer, and while I'd heard enough raging from Pauline for a lifetime and I agreed Cecilia had been unnecessarily mean, I had no right to criticize her considering what I'd done had been far worse.

Just…

Hopefully she was landing on her feet.

There was some friction between Emilia and Pauline too, even if that was largely gone. The fact that I'd been somehow involved in these after everything left a strange taste in my mouth. Not bad. Just strange. In my mind, it would have been a clean break. I'd done something wrong, and so I'd pay the price and lose them. But here I was, weeks later, and things felt different, but also the same. Mostly, Pauline would use me or Denzel as a way to vent because Emilia wanted to hear nothing about Cecilia so she'd be able to move on and get over that hump.

Still… thinking about them together? It was a lost cause now considering what had happened and that Cecilia didn't reciprocate, but I could have maybe seen it. It was easier to imagine her with someone else without me these days, even if it still stung. There was still a lingering dislike for Temperance, a childish one that I couldn't wait to get rid of. If there was one thing this year had shown me, it was that time was the best cure for a lot of afflictions like these.

"You okay?" Maylene asked.

"Yep. What about you?" I asked. "Sorry if my suitcase is too heavy."

She scoffed, pulling it up with ease. "Come on. I could carry your backpack easily too. And you."

"And me?"

"Yeah. Not like I haven't done it multiple times."

That was true. Not just in Coronet to save my life—I repressed the awful memory. There was that time at the beach in Sandgem when she kissed me just as the sun was setting and the sky had been a tapestry of vivid oranges and pinks, fading softly into the night, and we'd fallen on the ground, my hair and clothes full of sand. Another when I'd surprised her in her room when she'd come back at night after a long day of work—there were a few more, but I had noticed she enjoyed picking me up.

"Meh. I bet you couldn't do it while carrying all of this luggage," I lied.

Oh, how easy it was to provoke her. Just as we reached the gates of the property, Maylene swept me off my feet and spun around. I laughed, the sound echoing through the quiet dusk as she lifted me effortlessly, her strength both playful and grounding. "Put me down!" I protested, half-heartedly, feeling the thrill of her hold, the steady warmth of her hands. But Maylene only grinned, that mischievous spark in her eyes, and spun me around once more, as if daring me to resist.

"What if I threw you in the pool?" She stood at the edge of it, its waters clear and spaces wide. It was deep enough to jump.

"Maymay!" It was getting difficult to breathe because of how hard I was laughing. "I'll make you regret it, I swear to God!"

"Yeah, but for a moment, I'll be winning and you'll be losing—"

"I see some of us are having fun," a voice—no, that was Wake—said.

Even Maylene had failed to notice him—she quickly let me on the ground and slid behind me like a child full of shame. The water type Gym Leader swam along the pool's edge with only his head and nose above the water as if he were Feraligatr. Now that I could focus, noticing other Pokemon dotting the yard was easy. There was a Rampardos lounging in the grass, having created a nest of stones below himself to rest. A blurry, orange shape below the water darting to and fro that must have been Wake's Floatzel. A Drifblim floating high in the sky with a posse of Drifloon, though Buddy whispered that there were a few more powerful ghosts out and about. I waved awkwardly at Roserade, who returned to growing flowers in her corner of the backyard soon afterward. Gardenia's Carnivine was busy sparring with a Luxray a few hundred feet away outside the property.

"G—good morning," I said, swallowing an apology. "We didn't know people would be outside already."

Wake pulled himself out of the pool with a grunt, and water dripped from his skin. "It's just me and a few Pokemon!" he laughed, as boisterous as ever. "Don't let me interrupt your kids' fun."

"Uh." Maylene hesitantly stepped out from behind me, her fingers intertwining with mine as if to reassure me that things were fine. I knew that already; she was just embarrassed by physical touch in public when she was initiating. "Is J.P. here yet?"

"He'll be there later today—there were some last-minute issues to deal with at the Gym before closing and he basically forced me into an early break." The Gym Leader ran a hand over his wet, bald head. It was easy to see the love and care in his eyes whenever he brought up his husband. "Don't know what I'd do without him—but Grace!" He beamed, smile stretching so far yet looking so natural still. "I've wanted to talk to you for—"

Maylene pushed me forward. "Come on, don't just immediately press her on stuff. We'll—we'll talk later! I promise!"

Wake just shrugged, deciding to hop back into the pool with Floatzel, who had finally come back up for air and decided that splashing the entire surroundings with his spinning tails would be the next best thing to do. I whispered a 'thanks' to her; she'd known that I wouldn't be ready moments after we were fooling around, that I would have gotten in my head and overthought things, and ended up not saying anything great.

The house's walls were painted in a soft, weathered white, with the faintest traces of sea-blue hues where the paint met the wooden window frames. The windows were wide and sliding, large enough to catch a glimpse of a lounging Leafeon on a fort of pillows and Volkner, who was evidently napping on the couch in a pose that spelled disaster for his neck. His excited Raichu's head popped up from behind the couch the moment I opened the sliding glass door and slapped his forehead with his tail repeatedly until the Gym Leader groaned and blearily opened his eyes.

"I'm up! I'm up!" he nearly yelled. Raichu darted toward Maylene and affectionately wrapped his tail around her leg while she dropped parts of our luggage to pet his head. "Oh. You guys are here." Volkner's eyes settled on me, and I couldn't help but feel a little out of place. All of these Gym Leaders and their Pokemon, and then me? I was just some girl!

It was a good thing I'd worked so hard these past few weeks to fight back against the nepotism allegations as best as I could. They were real—there was no doubt, but at least I'd done a good enough job for Poketch to allow me to stay here so long as I stayed discrete. It hadn't stopped the side-eyeing or the much of the trash talking online, but we expected that to diminish with time and if I had performed well at the tournament. There were still narratives that it was somehow going to be rigged to get me to the top, which would be funny if they weren't relatively popular among newcomers to the Conference like me.

After a shy greeting and some small talk between Maylene and Volkner, my girlfriend looked around the spacious living room, taking it in for the first time in over a year. It was open and airy, with large windows flooding the space with natural light and offering views of the lush yard outside, a little against what Maylene liked, but I was willing to bet her bedroom was small and cozy. Plus, it wasn't like she couldn't stay in spacious places.

"I'm surprised you made it this early," Maylene said as her older friend covered his mouth to yawn.

"Don't lump me in with the likes of Candice," he slowly chided. "I learned to show up to things on time when Jasmine threatened to break up with me if I didn't."

I expected sadness there, but it looked like he was over it, for the most part. There was just a trace of melancholy, of what could have been, but other than that, he didn't seem to care much any longer.

"Well, if you hung out with me more, maybe I'd know!" Maylene complained with a cute pout, grabbing her luggage again. "The others?"

"Catching up on their sleep, mostly. The plan is to reconvene together when everyone's here and we're well-rested for what's looking to be a late lunch and… I don't know, probably tabletop games and ranting about work. Gardenia brought a whole lot of 'em." An elongated sigh followed his statement. "Monopoly today, I think. Those are always so, so long."

"Oh. Time together, the horror!" Maylene joked.

He rolled his eyes, lying back down on the couch with his hands over his stomach. "We're missing Candice, Jean-Pierre, and Byron."

"Byron?" Maylene questioned with a hum. "He's usually punctual."

"He's working on some Iron Island project. I don't know much about it, I can't be expected to keep track of anything not Sunyshore-related now that I'm off for the next month." That made sense, considering that while their Gym was closed, they still had responsibilities over their cities. If it called for it, they'd leave for a few hours or even a few days if need be to handle things. Volkner paused, eyes meeting mine once more. "Anyway. I'm looking forward to this," he said with a slight smirk.

"Ugh. Don't be weird. Weirdo." She went over to grab the pillow from under his head and threw it on his face. "Treat her normally!"

"I didn't say anything!"

"I know that look!"

"I was just surprised you got yourself a girlfriend, you hardass—"

Oh.

This was strange. Maylene was the only other Gym Leader I'd seen outside of a work setting for any extended period of time, so it was like I'd stepped foot on a completely different planet. It'd feel strange to step in and join, even if I saw some angle of attacks to gang up on Maylene, so I stayed silent, lips quirking every time either of them landed a good jab. A minute later, she gave in and we continued on our way.

With a lean, I whispered a question. "Why doesn't he sleep in his room like the others?"

"Oh, he's odd like that. He enjoys sleeping on… basically anything other than a bed. If you asked, him, he'd say the most comfortable place to sleep is at his desk." she said as we walked through the wide hallways. Our room was near the edge of the house, with an exit door nearby and a winding gravel path that led to what Maylene said was a backdoor to the adults' house. The bedroom was small, as expected, just big enough for a double bed pushed against the wall. Maylene would usually have slept on the ground, but we'd compromised and she'd had the usual mattress replaced by a tougher one so that we'd both be fine with it. Above the bed was an empty shelf with a few books Maylene had left here last summer, most of them about employee management. The bathroom was opposite the bedroom, which we'd have to share, but I didn't mind. In fact, it was kind of… exciting. It felt like we were moving in somewhere together.

We spent the next thirty minutes unpacking clothes and belongings with the help of a few of our Pokemon. Cass, Medicham and Princess, mostly, though Lucario helped some too before he couldn't resist the prospect of cannonballing in the pool to surprise Wake. Once we were done, she released the rest of her Pokemon so they could go and socialize with the rest, something I was going to wait to do first. I needed to have a talk with them before I let them loose. The usual 'don't be weird, be more social' thing that I had to tell them every time we met a new group of Pokemon and people.

"Are you ready?" Maylene threw her shoes into the closet, opting to go barefoot, and stretched with her hands above her head. "You look stressed out."

"I am," I said. "It's kind of sunk in."

"Come on, you'll do great, just like with Nia and Candice." She got close and lifted up my chin with a finger. "And if you don't, well—that's fine too. It's not like I didn't screw up first impressions with your family."

"It'd be easier to do this through battle," I said. Her pink eyes softened with a quiet laugh. "What?" I added. "It's true!" Words were just that. Words. Battling someone meant that you'd learn so much about them through the way they approached the fight—all of the different facets of battle, win or lose. "Too bad I can't. And now I'm overthinking things, and I—"

"Cass?" Maylene said, still staring directly at me.

One of Cassianus' eyes rotated toward us. They'd been sifting through Maylene's old books with Buddy. "Hm?" they absent-mindedly answered before— "Oh, pardon my unmannerliness I mean—how may I help you?"

"What'd you think the first time you met Grace?"

"I thought she was one of my Kings' descendants, bound by blood! A tyrant who would order me around as her slave!" the psychic enthused, arms shivering in excitement. "Instead, she's just a child. I suppose she carries that mantle through title only. But a King is still a King, and she remains mine. She's inherited—"

"Okay," she interrupted, not wanting another flurry of anecdotes about ancient Sinnoh. "Buddy?"

The Jellicent hovered there, eyes dimming, and he said he thought I was an annoying brat that he'd eventually manage to kill until he slowly figured that maybe life could be interesting again and he got out of that century-long malaise.

"Um. I didn't—understand that, but she did, and that's the goal." What she'd heard was a flurry of wind-like whistles and the occasional click. "But here's the spirit of what I meant. I hated you when we first met, right? Sure, it morphed into a kind of obsession…"

"Not kind of."

"I'm trying to help you and you stab me in the back," Maylene playfully sighed. "What I mean is you have a way of worming yourself into peoples' hearts, even if it takes a while."

Was that… true? Come to think of it, a decent amount of the people I was close to hadn't liked me at first. Cecilia, Pauline, Sunshine, Chase—well, not Chase anymore.

"Are you calling me a worm?" I said, trying to cheer myself up.

"You know what? Yeah." Maylene shrugged. "Don't worry, I'll keep you in a nice terrarium."

I stuck out my tongue at her and plopped myself down on the bed with a loud, admittedly exaggerated exhale. I'd been given no reason to be anxious, and they'd probably all be nice and polite to me. It just felt like I always had to expect things to go south and for everything to blow up in my face, especially considering that things had been going way too well lately. I was just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I felt at the tough mattress with a pensive hum. Yeah, this was going to be fine to sleep on. "Don't forget you have to start eating outside your regimen. You promised! No more delaying."

"Yes, yes, I will. I promise," she said. "Now are you ready to go see the others? They're all separated, so it shouldn't be too overwhelming."

I restrained a groan. "Sure." Maylene outstretched her hand, and I took it. "Maymaaaaay," I whined in a sweet voice, "can I have a good luck kiss?"

Buddy made himself small and looked away, and Cass suddenly found that page 38 of Maylene's book demanded all of their attention.

"So much for controlling yourself," she said, glancing back at the closed door. "Just this once."

—

These past few months, Roark hadn't been able to sleep well.

Knowing how close they'd come to catastrophe—to Cyrus summoning some country-wide apocalypse that would wipe Sinnoh and its people off the face of the earth—kept him up both at night and during the day. He had tried to nap for thirty minutes at this point, and none of his sleeping techniques were working well. Imagining himself in an endless underground tunnel that stretched for miles and miles usually did the trick. With a grunt that was half frustration half misery, Roark sat up from his bed and wished he'd brought his handheld magnification lens, the one with the bright light and multiple magnification settings that allowed him to inspect every tiny crevice and vein in his fossils. He'd found an Old Amber months ago that he still hadn't had time to inspect closely. In fact, it was sitting right there on his desk, bright and orange, the ancient history and countless years it must have seen almost taunting him.

Finding his glasses on his nightstand, he grabbed his phone and noticed a text from his father saying that he would be there soon. With the existence and convenience of their League Kadabra—Arceus bless their service to the state—it was easy to let yourself go and work until the last possible minute before Teleporting where you needed to be. He was apparently dealing with a lot of red tape and a complicated bureaucratic network to allow Canalave to have more sway over the Iron Islands, at the moment, but Teracore was fighting back relentlessly.

Roark was surprised his father was moving now of all times. Byron had been the one to regulate the Oreburgh mining companies before he'd taken over Canalave, so it wasn't out of character, but he'd been in charge of that city for over a decade.

There was no use asking questions without answers. If Byron wanted to tell him, he would. Once he gathered his thoughts, Roark opened his bedroom door and found himself face to face with Maylene and her new girlfriend Grace doing the same further down the hall. He vaguely remembered Grace's challenge because she'd been the one to first alert him about Team Galactic—her and her friend he forgot the name of. Danny? Daniel? D-something.

"Hey you two," he greeted them with a smile and a wave. "I didn't hear you come in, I must have been out of it."

"Hi, Roark!" Maylene rushed toward him, and anticipating getting all the air knocked out of his lungs, Roark squared his legs and braced himself. She tackled him with a hug and sank her head into his chest. "I haven't seen you out of a work setting in so long! I missed you!" She turned toward Grace and gestured for her to get closer. "Come, come. He's not gonna eat you, even if his resting face is kind of a glare. He only looks like that."

"Ha. Ha. Very funny." They let go of each other, and Roark got a better look at the girl in question.

He'd read her file. What she was capable of. He'd never disapproved—Sinnoh's survival was worth a lot to him, and while some of it had been disturbing, he'd never held it against her like the others had before. And knowing she'd scaled Coronet, she most likely had a body count higher than anyone he could think of other than Cynthia or maybe one of the other Shards. She was brutally scarred. Her left forearm was covered in shallow cuts, and the entire side of her body was burned up to the cheek, leaving behind only charred skin. Yet before him stood a nervous teenager who couldn't even bear to look him in the eye for longer than a second.

"N—nice to meet you," she mumbled. "R—Roark." Grace held out a nervous hand, and he shook it.

It was sweaty.

"Maylene's been happier since you started dating. And thank you for helping deal with Oscar," he firmly patted her on the shoulder.

"It wasn't just—" she stopped herself. "No problem. I'd help again a million times. Buddy, Mimi, say hi."

Out of her clothes, a crawling, blue amalgamation wrenched itself free with the morbid whistle of the wind across an ocean and the smell of salt. A Jellicent oozed out and slowly took shape with only red, hollow eyes to use as a frame of reference for its head. Behind her, Maylene eyed him with a knowing look. She'd warned him about this—it was her way of feeling safe from any sudden attacks. A trauma response. It was mildly unsettling, but he could get used to it if given time. The Jellicent's appearance had made him not notice the little blob of metal that had crawled atop her head. It was… dancing. Waving its hands from side to side and wriggling as some sort of greeting.

"That's Meltan. They actually got an entry in the Pokedex recently!" Grace said, pointing at her head. "They can turn into anything. Here, Mimi, do a crown." The steel type morphed into a diadem of some sort. "Isn't that cool—I mean, it's… you know, it's cool." She scratched the side of her arm.

"They can also turn into a skeleton key to open any doors. I'd better be careful if I were you, we don't want to catch you freaking out over a rock," Maylene teased.

"That happened only once. And it was a Plume Fossil, which is usually only found overseas in Unova and Orre! I was right to be freaked out!"

Grace blinked a few times. "I mean, a skeleton key is nice, but couldn't I just blow up the door?"

"Uh…" Roark trailed off. "I guess?"

"She's technically right!" Maylene said.

"I mean, if you want to be discreet, I could see the advantage, but Buddy can slip through doors easily too. With the way he can fit in any cracks and crevices, you'd never see him coming, and I wouldn't need to endanger myself…"

Had any of what they'd said implied fighting in any way? Was this because of her experiences too? Roark almost expected Maylene to stop her and redirect the conversation, but she just looked at her with a smile she could barely hide.

Small talk continued, mostly with Roark prodding about how Grace was feeling for her first Conference, but a few minutes later, Maylene took her away for her to meet Wake outside so she could release the rest of her Pokemon.

That had been a strange first impression, but… yeah she was fine.

Now to go take a walk and see if that cave he remembered from last year was still there…

—

Amidst the chaos of eight big personalities clashing, I found myself observing Candice trying to cheat in Monopoly by trying to invent new rules. It was a four-person game with Roark, Volkner and Gardenia, and a large part of the round had been spent in both of the boys allying to defeat Gardenia out of fear of her social acumen. I sipped on some juice and grinned when Roark landed on one of Candice's spaces, and the rent cost nearly took him out of the game, forcing him to mortgage some of his properties. I wasn't exactly rooting for anyone since Maylene wasn't playing and she was currently chatting with Wake on the patio, but there was something about seeing Roark angry that felt at least a little funny considering how mature and calm he'd looked earlier.

There was a shake around my wrist, a warning from Mimi because I was on my own too much. Introductions and small talk were well and good, but I needed to get in there somehow. I couldn't interject and interrupt their game, and just interjecting in Maylene's conversation with Wake felt wrong. Was I really that socially useless without her to carry the conversations? What could I even talk about? The last thing they wanted to mention were battles because most of it for them was work and this was a month to get away from that! But it was also the best icebreaker I knew…

Another vibration made me bring my wrist up to my mouth. "It's easy for you to say considering you can just sit there and backseat me," I whispered, fingers clenching my glass. "I mean, Fantina and Byron are talking." The ghost type specialist was currently coercing Byron into wearing proper clothing on the couch while she sipped on a glass of red wine. It was really weird seeing her with her hair down and not in some extravagant style. "Everyone's in a group except, uh…" a metallic arrow protruded out of the steel type in the kitchen's direction. "Jean-Pierre, I guess."

Wake's husband had arrived a little earlier in the day and had gone off to prepare lunch. He was the opposite of Wake—somewhat lanky with hair long enough to be tied into a ponytail and a thick, salt-and-pepper beard that was excellently trimmed. He moved through the kitchen with practiced ease, his long, nimble fingers skillfully chopping vegetables and seasoning meats like he could do it with his eyes closed. He was making Boeuf Camphrier, a classic Kalosian dish which was going to take a while.

"Would it be weird to ask him if he needed help, you think?" I asked in a whisper.

Mimi 'sighed', as in they contracted around my wrist and crawled up my arm and into my shirt. They were giving up on me! I side-hugged myself, giving Maylene's back one last look, and I downed my grape juice. I wasn't going to just hang around awkwardly and do nothing until either she or Candice could pick me up and help. I had to be independent, and Jean-Pierre was just a normal person like me. Not a Gym Leader. It was probably unfair to him, but that made the decision easier. Using my empty glass as an excuse, I slowly made my way to the kitchen counter and rinsed it out before putting it in the dishwasher.

I eyed Jean-Pierre to the side. "Need any, uh, help?" I asked.

He was taller from up close; it was somewhat intimidating. Nevertheless, he gave me a soft smile. "Maylene's told me you're an avid cook."

Unlike Fantina, he'd nearly completely lost his accent. I could still somewhat tell, but it was extremely faint.

"Well, me and my Electivire." Honey was probably off racing with Volkner's own Electivire across the island's wilderness. "But yeah. Kind of."

"There isn't much else to do with the beef but put it in the oven, and I'm nearly done with the sides as well," he pondered, wiping his hands on his flowery apron before he went to wash his hands. "But you could help me clean this place up and bake the dessert."

My eyes widened. "You're making dessert?!" Oh Arceus, that had been loud. Loud enough to turn Fantina and Byron's heads. "Sorry. I mean, after all of this work?"

"These fools have got to eat somehow, don't they?" He nudged his head back to the living room. "They already neglect themselves so much they deserve a little treat," he said. "Though I'm pretty sure Fantina would be able to subside solely off of wine."

I snorted. "Is she big on that?"

"One glass a night, usually—"

Speaking of the devil, Fantina cocked her head to the side with pursed lips. "Jean-Jean, are you badmouthing me to Grace?"

He clicked his tongue a few times like a disappointed father. "Are your ghosts spying on us again?"

"Again implies that they had ever stopped, my dear." Suddenly, there was a chill running down my neck that I couldn't help but shake my entire body at, and a shriveled-up shadow darted back in Fantina's own. Damn. I wondered if Buddy would have noticed if he'd still been close. He would have been, but it'd be inconsiderate of me to have him by me all the time when every other Pokemon had gone to socialize. He was swimming in the pool right now with some of Wake's team.

"I have a shovel at my disposal and a man willing to use it." Fantina spun the wine in her glass a few times.

Byron raised both of his hands. "Leave me out of this. I might have some emails to answer." With that, he rose and ran off—Fantina grabbed onto his cape to stop him. It was stuck there a lot better than it looked. "I'm serious Fantina. Furious messages from Teracore and such. That's why I won't be able to stay tonight."

With an understanding sigh, she let go. "Very well. I suppose my bake-off idea for revenge will have to wait."

"Oh. A bake-off would be cool some other day!" I excitedly said, feeling my inner competitive spirit flare to life. "I'd want to be against Maymay, though…"

"We aren't making anything complicated today. Just brownies," Jean-Pierre said.

"Oooh, I can help with those," I chimed in. "You can never go wrong with chocolate." I paused, noticing him wrinkle his nose. "You… what?"

"I don't like chocolate much. I can eat it, but—"

"Are you kidding?!" My mouth gaped, and I looked over to Fantina as I leaned over the counter and pointed at him with a thumb. "Is he screwing with me?"

"He really isn't. Jean-Jean was cursed with a terrible palate when it comes to desserts, I'm afraid," The Gym Leader said, slowly shaking her head in disapproval. "He doesn't really like anything sweet, which crosses off a lot of desserts."

I turned back to Jean-Pierre, eyes tightly shut, and clasped his shoulder. "I'm so sorry."

Both he and Fantina laughed. Things were easier from here on out.

I stood by the counter, sleeves rolled up, watching Jean-Pierre sift cocoa powder into a large mixing bowl with the ease of someone who had done it a thousand times before. He handed me the wooden spoon, nodding for me to start stirring while he melted butter on the stove. Amidst tips of being gentle with the eggs to avoid air bubbles or adding less flour, he and Fantina told me old stories about Kalos and that their friendly rivalry stemmed back from her being from Lumiose and there being some kind of joke in their country that anyone from that city being an asshole.

"Maylene's told me you want to travel," Jean-Pierre had said. "If you want to truly experience our dear Kalos, you'll want to go anywhere but Lumiose."

"Mais tu racontes n'importe quoi, toi," Fantina said—though I didn't understand, and they devolved into Kalosian bickering until she noted that I'd feel left out.

Kalosian was weird. Felt nice on the ears, though. Maybe I'd be able to pick up on a few words here and there this month.

Funnily enough, the brownies finished before the main course, so I went out to call Maylene over so she could have a taste while Jean-Pierre went to talk to his husband and Fantina went to check in on that seemingly endless Monopoly game. They'd be scorching hot, yes, but her mouth could take a lot of pain—and that wasn't meant weirdly. My girlfriend lifted up a piece of brownie which had been cut into a square, and she stared at it like it was going to—

"It's not going to kill you," I teased. "Come on, you can do it."

Maylene audibly gulped, and then whispered, "feels like Oscar's going to jump from behind and yell at me any second." Her voice was small and weak, like she was about to freak out. It was a mental block first and foremost. "It's terrifying."

I grabbed her hand and squeezed in an attempt to share my belief in her. "He's not here. He won't ever have that much power over you again." And if he did, I'd kill—wound—restrain him. I'd restrain him without harming a hair on his stupid fucking head just because things so be so complicated otherwise. "Just a little bite."

Ever so slowly, she leaned in and sank her teeth into the brownie. She chewed at a slow pace, and I didn't know if it was to savor it or out of fear, but—

"Maymay!" I chuckled. "You did it. You did it!" My arms found themselves around her, and I jumped in place, unable to contain the sheer happiness within.

"I did it…" she murmured in disbelief. "It's—it tastes really good, it—" she took another bite. "Oh my God, how is it so good—"

Then, a deathly silence.

The advantage of the house being so open meant that we could see everyone all looking at us. From Candice's mouth gaping open with a bunch of fake money in her hand, to Fantina blinking silently and tapping her foot on the ground, to Wake and Jean-Pierre through the sliding window. It was all quiet until—

A cacophony of cheers and congratulations erupted, first coming from Roark of all people. The Gym Leaders swarmed around not just Maylene, but us, and even I got thanked for getting her to deviate from her diet. They'd tried for years, and none of them had succeeded until today.

"Wanna play another game of Monopoly after lunch?" Candice asked me. "We can do six player this time!"

"Just don't cheat, and we can play again," Gardenia said.

"Pookie, honey buns, snookums." With each word, her girlfriend stepped closer to her. "how could you insinuate such a thing? That I, Candice, would ever cheat at anything? And you cheated too; you never targeted me."

"That's called realpolitik. You were useful to me in the game, so I let you run rampant."

"A likely story. So, Grace?"

With a grin, I jumped in excitement. "Yeah! I'll play. Maylene, you're dead to me."

"Wha—oh, you're on!"

I'd done so much wrong in the past, and maybe I'd do wrong in the future too, but I felt a part of this. A part of them.

Things were going to be okay!

---

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