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

[Soussouni1]

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

---

CHAPTER 340

Excitement from the opening ceremony had thrown the entire island into a frenzy of enthusiasm and spending. You couldn't go five seconds without seeing someone carrying something new they'd bought, either for their Pokemon, friends, family, or themselves. I was, as it turned out, horrible with money when pushed by peer pressure. Seeing all these people blowing their cash on stuff they most likely didn't need had me buying even more. Clothes, gifts for friends or my family, or food despite the fact that I was full. Just out of sheer gluttony! Maylene would probably look at me disapprovingly for eating so unhealthy, but if I wasn't going to enjoy this month, what was the point? Plus, maybe I'd be able to convince her to try different kinds of sweets. Or even pizza.

She still had to work for a few hours and handle the end of the ceremony, so I'd be waiting for her a while. Honey helped carry most of the new bags of things I bought, much to his chagrin. He wanted to run off and have fun with his new friends at the Gym House instead of helping his mom shop. Denzel had gone off to interview some trainer he'd found in the crowd with Pauline, so it was just the rest of us. Things were a little awkward. It had been so long since I'd spoken regularly with either Lauren or Mira, and Marley didn't know either of them, so she kept glancing my way every few seconds or so expecting me to carry the conversation. Feeling my throat tighten, I glanced at my phone.

"Forty minutes until the groups are revealed," I said, hoping to lure Lauren into some kind of conversation. She seemed more comfortable now that we were away from the crowd—or as far away as we could get. It helped that her Reuniclus or Mira's own psychics could Teleport us around and she'd had them scout the premises yesterday. "You guys nervous? I'm nervous."

"I'm happy I made it so far already." Marley glanced down at her feet, her voice slightly meek. "Of course, I'd love to go the distance, but I'm… well, I would be satisfied no matter the result."

That got a reaction out of Lauren. She adjusted her glasses as her fingers twitched. "You aren't making it far, then." It was not an aggressive statement, just something she'd said as a matter of fact. A truth—or her truth, at the very least. A curious, mildly offended look from Marley prompted her to continue. "You have to be hungry for it. Hungry for victory. Or you won't ever push your limits and you'll stay mediocre."

Mira intervened slowly, "I wouldn't call making it to the Conference in her first year mediocre, Lauren."

"I—" The raven-haired girl couldn't stop her fingers from moving, now. "I meant it in—"

"I know," Mira said. "But, uh, you don't know Marley. Marley doesn't know you. It might have come off as rude for no reason."

A slight sigh slipped through Lauren's lips, and she averted her eyes. "Okay. My bad."

"It's okay," Marley said. "I, uh, I'm sorry about your—"

Mira suddenly hissed like some sort of wild animal, and Marley quickly caught the hint to not finish that sentence. It'd be best not to bring Craig up at all, or at least in the context of being sorry for her. She must have been told that a million times already, and seeing the government use his death for so much profit had most likely gotten on her nerves. If I had to guess, this would have brought a different kind of anger had Lauren not immediately retreated behind the safety of her noise-canceling headphones before she could keep track of what Marley had been saying. Not the old one where she grew pissed at anyone bringing Craig up out of fear of forever chasing his shadow, but because it was all so tiresome to have people who barely knew her mention it.

She was participating for herself. Not to prove anything to anyone.

While Marley and Mira continued making small talk to get to know each other better—mostly, the latter kept bringing up old traveling stories—I told Honey to stay put and shuffled closer to Lauren, whose head bopped up and down to some kind of music I couldn't hear. I raised a finger to garner her attention, and she made 'can this wait?' eyes at me.

It could, I mouthed at her with a shrug.

She made a knowing smirk at me and pulled her headphones off one ear. "Hi."

"Hi," I repeated. "Been a while."

With the rush to get to the ceremony, we didn't have time to actually talk beyond a polite greeting. Training every day with her and Cecilia while we were in Sunyshore still felt so recent. And it was, technically, yet it felt like a lifetime ago. We'd come far since then, and I'd grown into a better version of myself. The constant journey of self-improvement was an exhausting one, but one I relentlessly chased nonetheless. How had she changed, I wondered? With her, I knew I had to be the one to keep her going in a conversation unless we were talking about battling or music.

"So. You and Mira, huh?" I said.

"Me and Mira what?"

"Dating," I specified like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I'm happy for you two!"

Lauren blinked so many times I thought something had gotten in her eyes and then nodded, eyes drifting toward her girlfriend with a dumb smile I'd never seen on her face before. "She's nice, I guess. I'm happier and she helps me with a lot of things. Like how to handle dealing with strangers." She nudged her face toward Marley.

I was curious of how things functioned because of all the… split personalities, but I figured I'd only bring it up when we got closer again.

"She'd be perfect if she was a good battler. Too bad she just rolls over and dies whenever we battle because her Pokemon are so weak," Lauren continued a little more enthusiastically. "Her split-second decision-making is decent, and she comes up with unique out-of-the-box moves that surprise me sometimes, but everything else is mediocre. There's potential. Or there would be if she cared about it much." She kept fixating on Mira; her stare was nearly unmoving. "She's said she'd be rooting for me, but I can't help but think she should be rooting for herself. Oh well. At least it's cool."

Oh, she was so in love. "It's cool," I repeated with a smug, knowing smirk that then faltered. "Hey… um, sorry if I'm being too forward. But are Craig's Pokemon okay?"

Lauren took off her headphones fully and placed them around her neck. "People don't really ask about them. Or at least not a lot besides Roxie. Thanks."

A silence settled in for a few seconds, and for a moment I figured it must have been a tough topic for her. "You don't need to tell me if you don't want to. I was just worried." I'd seen Justin's Pokemon struggle with their grief, and every few days, the thought of Lou's Pokemon blaming me for her death reared its ugly head.

"No. It's fine," she said. "It's complicated."

Craig's Pokemon, it turned out, had mostly gone their separate ways. She'd given them all they wanted. Hippowdon had gone back to her herd near route 207 and challenged her aging mother for the right to lead the herd, and she'd won handily. Apparently the League was happy to have a trained Pokemon take control of such a powerful force because it made working with them easier should a problem ever arise. His Gyarados had decided to just swim off into the ocean from Canalave to travel the seas, though he had promised to come back in a few years. He just wanted something different for a while. Snorlax had been loaned to the Battle Frontier for two years—with visiting rights to the family whenever he wished. Typhlosion and Orbeetle had decided to stay with Lauren's parents. The former was still lost and couldn't imagine a life without the family, and the latter because she had vowed to protect them until they vanished. She thought it was her due for failing to protect Craig from Regice. Lauren didn't know, still, and I didn't know if it was because Craig's Pokemon wanted to spare her the pain or if she hadn't asked in hopes of moving on. Eelektross had opted to go and help the Rangers in Mount Coronet, remembering her trainer's dream to stop kids from dying.

It was tragic to hear. All these stories separating, some of them for good. It was like hearing about Mudsdale and Lurantis—who were happy together now, thank the Legendaries—all over again.

"What about Roxie?" I asked.

"Roxie's with me," Lauren said. "Not as a fighter. She doesn't want to do that anymore. Doesn't see the point." Ah. It would have been somewhat poetic to have Lauren bring Roxie into battle, finally winning it all—but that was rude of me to think. People were people. Stories were stories. They didn't have to step into their throes if they didn't want to. "She helps me fly around when I need it, and it's just nice to have her around. She's not with me right now. She's flying around somewhere away from the Lily. She hates the atmosphere; it reminds her of Craig too much. He loved this time of year; it was where he was truly in his element. Among his fellow trainers instead of posers."

"It's nice anyway," I said. "You've known her long."

"For as long as I can remember," she said with a nod. "It's hard, but dad says the world keeps going. The rivers keep flowing, and the earth keeps spinning around the sun." That must have been his way to cope. Lauren stopped for a moment, hand scratching her arm. "You know, for all people talk about him saving the country, I think he would have been sick and tired of it by now."

"Probably," I laughed.

"You know, with your…" Lauren pointed at her ear. "I noticed that the sound was bothering you sometimes. You should buy these headphones. They're decent."

"Oh, don't worry. That's because I'm not great at remembering to turn it off and on in time before I get burned. I'll get better."

She remained quiet for a moment. "Sometimes I use them as an excuse to not talk to people."

I snorted. "What?!"

"You should do it too. Just say you're deaf…"

"I'm pretty sure I'm legally deaf?"

The conversation continued, and eventually we all regrouped when Denzel came back with not just one, but two interviews behind him. Apparently he'd met another trainer who had wanted to get on his stream, and it felt strange for him to be chased and not to be pursuing famed personalities instead. Every trainer participating in the Conference was famous some way or another, even if the levels varied from local celebrities within their community to the most famous like, well, Aubri.

Or me. Blegh, it still felt odd to say it. Like walking in the shoes and clothes of a dead man. Maybe one day, I'd grow used to it. One day.

We were lucky to snatch a few free benches down a less-frequented street for ourselves. The island was quite mountainous the further you went from the coast, and people tended to stick next to the coast, where most of the stadiums were. I used the opportunity to send Princess off with most of the stuff I'd bought back to the Gym House. It was quite the amount of bags to carry with Psychic, but she was capable and faster than Cass. Speaking of, a few hats for them were in those bags; we'd picked them out together earlier today.

Water spilled out of Denzel's mouth as he scrolled through his phone. "Oh shit!" His voice snapped me back to reality—I'd been idly looking forward to Maylene sending me a message telling me she was free. "The groups are out!"

My heart squeezed and sank deep into the depths of anxiety. My thumb slipped when I tried to go to the website the League had set up for the Conference and I accidentally opened my camera and took a picture before I finally got into my search browser.

"Group three," I heard Lauren speak next to me. "What about you guys?"

"Twenty-one," Mayley said.

I stared down at my phone and inhaled sharply.

Group 21

Leyla Harrison
Marley Webb
Hayden Browning
Emerick Wagenaari
Jamie Pearce
Ramon Casaus
Grace Pastel
…

There it was. My name, along with sixteen other people—

Wait.

Twenty-one. My eyes had glanced over her name to find mine, but there Marley was, her trainer ID picture included above her name.

"T—twenty-one," I said. "I got twenty-one too."

Her eyebrows raised a bit. "Fun. It's a good thing I rarely let you train with me. What were the odds of that?"

"Don't trigger her; she'll start talking all about stories and stuff." Mira hopped off the bench and stretched, her long pink hair swaying with her movements. "It's not like it dooms you two to have to fight it out. The top six out of sixteen make it out—at least for your group size. Some are different because of odd numbers and such. I checked it all out with Sirris a few weeks back."

Right. It had just come as a shock because of how low the odds were in the six hundred or so people who had gotten eight badges this year. There was also Ramon and that Galarian frontrunner Pearce. I continued scanning down the list, and thankfully didn't find someone else I knew. The last thing I needed was the significance of a battle with Cecilia right now.

Anyway.

I was of course informed about how the group stages worked—I had been for months, now. Denzel had been the first to tell me about it, but I'd done an ample amount of research on my own. Sinnoh followed a more streamlined model inspired by Indigo where a loss counted for zero points; a draw for one, but for both participants; and a win for two points for the winner. According to Cecilia, Unova, for example, had a far more complicated system where knock-outs were the things that counted for points, so you could have funny situations where someone with more losses could win over a trainer with more victories in some edge cases because they'd kept more of their battles close.

None of that here. It was winner-takes-all.

Three-on-threes with one switch as well, keeping the fights fast-paced because there were a lot of them to go through. Starting tomorrow, the stadiums would have non-stop fights from early in the morning to night for days. Being in group twenty-one meant that I wouldn't have to start battling for quite a few days yet, so I had more time to… settle in, so to speak. Not that this made any difference—it wasn't as if I'd have more time to study my opponents considering everyone I was supposed to fight was in the same boat. Lauren would have to fight earlier than all of us, but she would also have more time to recover. Already, she was entirely focused on her phone screen, probably thinking to herself about how she was going to make it through groups.

As first years, we were coming in at a disadvantage. While we'd progressed far very quickly, people here would be more experienced than us, and that counted for something, but the fact that so many people—six out of sixteen for us—could make it through allowed for some slippage. For example, as much as I wanted to prove that I could stand against the best, there was no way I was winning against Ramon, let alone Jamie Pearce.

There was much to think about, and the online world was most likely going insane. I sent out a pre-approved post on Chatter about how I would give the Conference my all, making sure to turn off the replies because they'd been a toxic cesspool ever since the context of my eighth badge had leaked, and took a deep breath. Later tonight, I'd have a meeting with my team about this and start studying each opponent and their teams as much as I could, just like old times.

For now, however—

Maymay - I'm freeeeeeee where r u

I smiled.

"Guys, I think I'm gonna go."

—

There was something mildly amusing about seeing Volkner soaked in sweat and struggling for every breath as he climbed the hill to come check on us. He was the kind of guy to always, constantly complain about the summer heat even more than I did, and being out and about when the sun was at its most intense was not doing him any favors. Maylene and I weren't really doing anything. We'd ventured off to the uninhabited parts of the Lily, and she'd found a hill shaped like a crescent moon. That had triggered a funky part of her brain, and instantly, she'd wanted to run up it for fun, and I'd been forced to follow her up. This was where we'd spent the last hour, her head in my lap while she lay in the grass and I sat against Angel for support while he slept to the sound of the nearly silent winds, soaking up the sun.

Her hair was softer than it looked. She'd cut it again just before the Conference because it was getting long and 'in the way', so it was back to how it had been when we met. It still felt nice to run my hand through. Short, neat, and practical—just like her. The kind of cut that left nothing to hide behind. It suited her, though. Maylene leaned slightly into my touch and looked up into my eyes—that was how you knew she loved me. Because she was so preoccupied with me she couldn't even stop and make fun of Volkner. I wasn't sure she had even noticed him. Her eyes were still such a striking shade of pink—

"Did you," a ragged voice exhaled and inhaled, "have to go all the way up here?"

Oh. He'd made it up. Volkner leaned against his knees and collapsed on the grass with a groan that woke Angel up. The grass type immediately wiped the sweat off the Gym Leader's forehead even without any idea of what had been going on. Maylene shot up from my lap with a little yelp that made me want to drag her closer and tease her.

"M—maybe learn to climb a stupid hill!" she yelled. Her heart clearly wasn't in it; she was off-balance and it showed. It was all the wrong cadence and with none of the fake venom that made banter with her fun. "Even Grace can do it better than you."

"Hey. Don't just throw me under the bus!" I yelled, faking offense.

"Well, kid, I sit at a desk all day, so sorry if I can't be running around everywhere like you."

"I also sit at a desk all day," Maylene countered. "Yet I also find time to stay active. Curious."

"Pfft. Whatever." Volkner shook his head at her—though he struggled with that, too. "Candice sent me before you," he glanced at me, "could fly off somewhere, 'cause you're apparently going off to see Jasmine?" I nodded and hummed in affirmation. "And you're kind of inattentive, so I wasn't sure phones were going to work."

"I'm not inattentive. I can focus on something very easily."

"She can focus on something very easily," Maylene repeated.

Volkner's nose wrinkled in annoyance. "What? Maylene, you were the one—"

My girlfriend slid behind me and covered my ears for a moment. I figured it was more as a joke than anything because I knew what he was going to say. She'd told him I was inattentive, that little…

"...slander the good name of my girlfriend like this," Maylene finished right as her hands left my ears. "I'll have you know that I'm implementing a new policy to have anyone who badmouths her sentenced to a massive fine. Anyone but me, I mean."

Damn it, she'd sensed that retort coming.

"Woah. You must really be having a good time," Volkner slowly spoke.

"Hm?"

"I mean, back in the day you would have never joked about stuff like this," he added, lifting his phone out of his pocket. "It's a good thing I was recording and I'll be leaking this to the press—"

She stuck out her tongue at him, blowing a raspberry.

"I wouldn't want to be caught in the crossfire of that controversy," I said. "But maybe Volkner should get prison time instead of a fine."

Maymay beamed. "Exactly! And there, I'll come by every day to make him do cardio! He can't leave until he can run for twenty minutes without complaining!"

I snickered. "Oh, you might as well sentence him to life."

"This is what I get for coming to deliver news…" Volkner lamented, shoving his hands in his pockets. The way he turned slightly, I noticed his pretty bad posture, but made no comment. I didn't want to push too far; I didn't really know the dynamics without Maylene here to guide me yet. "Anyway, there's a movie night tonight. Movies plural. We figured we wanted to give you the option to show up, but we don't know if you'll be off training."

"Oh. Cool." I gave it some thought for a moment. "Yeah, I can stay for a while. Dunno if it'll be the whole night, but… a while."

Maylene pumped her fist in a silent celebration, but I noticed her anyway. Angel mimicked her with a bundle of vines. She turned toward me. "Don't work too hard. People can get in over their heads with this stuff and perform worse because of it sometimes."

I nodded. That was why she'd made the entire fight with Gardenia a surprise in the first place, and while I'd fought in front of crowds before, the Conference was different. Yes, there were more people, and yes, there was a live commentator, but that was honestly the least of my worries considering how good I'd gotten at tuning people out when I was in the zone. There was simply more meaning behind this tournament. It was a symbol, the culmination of an entire year of hard work for hundreds of trainers, but also a desperate reprieve for the people of Sinnoh. It was a lot to carry.

"Yeah. I'll handle it, no worries," I finally answered with a smile.

"You better! I'll be rooting for you so loud I bet you'll hear me." It would have been something cute to say had she not looked like she actually meant it. "But you know, also remember to just have fun no matter what. That's the theme this year, after all." She brought her hand close to my arm, then paused as her eyes glanced to Volkner on the right. With a small gulp, she continued and rubbed my skin. I was so proud and happy I was nearly ready to scream. "The world's not going to end no matter what spot you end up getting."

"I'll remember that," I quietly said. "I should probably go. I really don't want to be late. You know, with meeting Brock and Will." It was an old promise now made whole. The two were now finally here on a diplomatic mission, along with an entire team, to cut Jasmine some slack and allow her to relax after the absolute hell of a time she'd had working since the Galactic situation came to a close.

"Oh! Yeah, you really don't want to make people from Kanto-Johto wait, especially not an Elite Four member," she said. "That could be a disaster. I hear they're strict."

We stood in silence awkwardly—this would have been a really good moment to kiss. Volkner cleared his throat and announced his departure, feeling that he was probably not going to want to be around here right now. As soon as he got enough distance and kept his back turned, I lunged—uh, I gently kissed her and felt my leg unconsciously lift behind me when her hands settled on my hips.

It was nice. It was always really nice. I wished we'd be able to practice tonight, but there was no way we were going to get the house to ourselves today, or any day this month, for that matter. There were always a few people inside. I playfully bit on her bottom lip and she laughed against me, giving me butterflies until the kiss ended.

I tugged slightly on the vine Angel had wrapped around my ankle and touched more of his vines until I recalled him, swapping him out for Princess, and I was soon on my way to see Jasmine close to the actual League Building—known and referred to as The Spire in the news or when people just wanted to use its official name because of its architecture. Rare were the times when I'd flown with so many people in the sky with me. Princess made sure to keep a proper distance. If there was anywhere I'd get caught for breaking flight laws, it was here. I needed a clean record to get an equivalent one in Unova without having to take a test again. I'd pass it no problem, but it'd be a chore. Or maybe it'd be a way to meet new friends?

What was I doing, considering breaking the law to make friends? I had a reputation to worry about.

I leaned in close to Princess' ears and asked, "have you been having a good time here?"

We were flying slowly enough to hear her answer; I'd leaned in more out of habit than anything else. The Togekiss said that things were going… fine—with that exact same hesitation. She was excited to get into the battling and acting of it all, but she was unused to meeting so many new people at once.

"Me too," I said. "But hey, things get better. You should stick around with Honey and Angel instead of Sunshine if you want to socialize. Follow their lead; they'll help you out. Or even Buddy!" I quickly added before remembering he wasn't clinging to me. Oops.

Jasmine had said she'd be waiting around the central road leading to the League Building. I could see it easily from up here in all its glory, a structure that felt more like a monument than a mere building. The League rose like a fortress carved out of marble and other stones, its design a seamless blend that came together perfectly and radiated power. Tall, cylindrical towers framed the central hall, their roofs capped with gleaming red spires that caught the sunlight and seemed to glow like embers. Stained glass windows dotted its facade depicting great battles below Arceus' light, for that was what the ones who had built this monument believed themselves to be. This was supposed to be the seat closest to God.

If only they'd known how wrong they were.

We landed on the closest available platform, and I kept Princess around for the time being. She lazily hovered a little off the ground upside down. Buddy deserved a longer break from always being on bodyguard duty, even if he told me it didn't bother him one bit. I felt naked without him. My skin felt so vulnerable to the elements, and I couldn't help but occasionally glance back behind me. It wasn't like I didn't trust Princess to defend me. She'd been charged with keeping me safe with her barriers until Cassianus had come into the picture, after all. It was just—different. There was something about keeping myself wrapped in a cocoon at all times that made me feel safer.

The street here was less filled with tourists and hopeful trainers, and more with government employees buzzing around like Combee. This was around where most of them lived, after all, and they rarely got any time off even in the summer. In fact, this was most likely the busiest time of all for them.

Ah, there Jasmine was, waiting for me with Amphy. There was no one else with her besides the two 'bodyguards' that followed her everywhere—Rynara and Renzo, I remembered. She spotted me first, and her Ampharos swayed from side to side, his tail nearly tripping Renzo as it shone in tandem with the electric type's excitement.

"Grace!" Jasmine spread her arms and wrapped me in a tight hug. She was wearing one of the sundresses I'd come to know her for and sandals. "I missed you. Let me get a good look at you." With both her hands, she grabbed my face and pointed it up, pausing for a few moments. "You look happier."

I let out an awkward laugh, unused to someone just stating that outright. "I am."

Greetings were short, though I made sure to let Honey out so he could see his old teacher. They made a promise to see how far he'd come before we all had to go our separate ways—her back to Johto, and me to Unova. Jasmine was still sad I wasn't coming with her instead, making sure to show me an exaggerated pout that didn't reach her sharp eyes. Once everything was said and done, she told me to follow her. Her two guards followed in silence behind us.

"Not too nervous?" Jasmine asked.

"I'm so nervous I could die," I quickly said. I'd kept it largely under wraps by distracting myself, but the closer we were getting to the moment, the more I was finding my brain making excuses to have to leave. Depending on the first impression I made, I could either fumble everything and ruin two relationships with some of the most powerful men on the planet, or do well and have them like me. If it was something in-between, I'd consider that a win. "But I'm trying to keep it together. Succeeding, even."

"Oh, you don't have to worry," Jasmine waved a hand in front of her face, "they're both among the nicest you could get from our dear Indigo—at least with people on their good side, and I have a good relationship with them, otherwise dear old Lance never would have sent them. If it was someone like Surge or Blue or Sabrina or—it'd take too long to list them all out—they'd be ruthlessly upfront, good or bad, and possibly use you to get to me, but Brock and Will know tact."

"Tact. Right."

She bent down slightly to whisper as we walked. "Remember how I told you about Renzo and his psychic woes?" I did remember—she'd told me he'd been exiled from the Natsume clan because the psychic powers he'd awakened had been too weak. "Well, Will's a psychic in truth. He's a playful man who focuses on finesse and tricks rather than raw power like Sabrina can bring."

"Oh. Is he a Natsume too?"

Jasmine burst out laughing, taking a few seconds to recover. "Oh, Grace! You say the funniest things sometimes." She let out a long, satisfied sigh. "They'd rather die than be involved in each other's affairs. No, no, Will isn't even part of a clan; he just got lucky. Brock is… Brock."

"And that means…?'

"He's got a lot of walls around him, so don't worry if he comes off as cold. Oh, and they're married."

"They're what?"

"Married."

I gawked at her.

"And this is when you tell me?! I could have—I could have walked in there not knowing anything!"

"I did tell you. I told you right now." She shrugged and gently patted me on the back. "It's a funny story, actually. Used to despise each other's guts for years and years back in the day, but I guess they couldn't get each other out of their heads." That reminded me of… well, me and Maymay, just on a longer time scale. Her eyes met mine for a moment. "Don't mention any of this part, by the way."

"I obviously will not."

She led me inside of The Spire, which was my first time in the building and not its side facilities like the public wing of the Hall of Fame, where I'd gone with Cecilia to see the many paintings of the past Champions going back hundreds of years. It felt wrong to be here. Amidst the people who all knew what they were doing, who carried themselves high, and looked like they were never lost. Amongst those who kept this nation standing in the shadows, never to be rewarded for it in the stories and songs.

It made me feel uneasy. Wrongness.

A room had been set apart just for Brock and Will, where they could spend their time whenever work was not calling. Teasingly, Jasmine ushered me in the room first while her guards stood at attention and remained behind the door. The one who caught my attention first was will, for he was dressed like some sort of colorful Chatot. His outfit was flamboyant, almost theatrical, with its sharp, tailored lines offset by bright, clashing colors. Crimsons and purples, golds and blacks. His hair was mid-length and soft purple. He'd been in the midst of reading some book he was levitating in front of him and sitting at a desk, but with one smooth wave of his finger, it fell back on the table with a marker neatly inserting itself within before it closed.

Brock, meanwhile, was dark-skinned, tall, spiky-haired, and nearly utterly still. Staring out the window with his arms crossed, yet I couldn't read the look on his face. Was he worried? Angry? Some form of sadness or melancholy? It was mildly unsettling to the point that the hair on my neck stood on end. When he turned toward me, the movements felt too… they had a certain weight behind them, like he was twice his actual size. It was odd to look at.

"Is this the child?" Will asked with a bright smile. He stood up, body flowing like water, and slid in front of me—so close. "My! What a striking look." He fixated on my burns. "Where did you find her?"

"Through Craig Goodwill," Jasmine said, flicking his forehead back and dragging me closer to her. Her nail sharply scraped the psychic's forehead. "Don't overwhelm her. She's not from Indigo; don't forget."

Will innocently raised his hands. "I was just interested. People don't catch your attention often. There was Gold—oh, you were so shy, back then—"

"Keep talking and I'll slit your throat."

Her threat cut through the room like a freshly sharpened sword. Why had she even reacted this way—I already knew this! And weren't they supposed to be on good terms? My eyes darted between the two, and for a few seconds that felt endless, no one talked. Jasmine leaned forward, hand slowly drifting toward the purse where she'd put back Amphy's Pokeball and where the rest of her team was. Energy started brimming around Will—more than had ever appeared around Lou—and a dark shadow veiled his eyes—

Then, laughter exploded from the both of them. Jasmine's was loud and undisturbed while Will's was quiet, like a whisper.

"Ah, Will! Never a dull moment with you!" Jasmine smirked, and the firm touch around my shoulder let me know that it had all been one big joke despite how real it had felt, thank the fucking Legendaries.

"I've got to keep a lady on her toes! Though we've been over this; there is absolutely no way you would manage to kill me in a fight, especially not with this setup! Your brain would be paste before your hand ever reached your Pokeball!" he joyously exclaimed. "Forgive us for the game, Ms…"

I'd nearly forgotten to breathe. "Uh. Uh. I'm—Grace Pastel. Just call me Grace."

"Grace it is! Brock, say hello."

"Hello," he gruffed. Goodness, his voice was deep. "What's the point of this meeting again?"

"Don't be rude, dear," Will gently chided. "Isn't it just fun to meet Jasmine's pupil?" He spun around in a grand manner, each movement arcing with grace that felt nearly inhuman until his hand calmly settled on Brock's chest.

"Sorry. Nice to meet you." He nudged his head at me. "I hear you have a Tyranitar."

"Oh!" Had she told him about that already? "I do—she's still a baby and growing, but I do. I was confused about how to handle her when she'd just evolved, but I found a rhythm that worked."

"Tyranitar are a great, never-ending challenge, but if you can earn their trust and guide them well, they'll give you more than you could ever ask for—not in terms of strength or power, but they'll always be there for you, through thick and thin." All of my Pokemon were loyal, but it was true that Sweetheart was… the only one who I doubted would question any order. Princess had gotten over that phase. "It's a shame people often think of them as simple brutes. Apex predators have to be smart." Brock's finger tapped his elbow. "Are you looking for advice ahead of the Conference? Because I wouldn't—"

"It's fine—oh, sorry for interrupting."

Once upon a time, maybe I would have begged him to absorb everything he knew of the species. And the temptation was still so sweet. To have one of the few trainers who owned a Tyranitar, a treasure trove of information, right at my fingertips was something few would be able to boast about. Today, however, was different. I was treading my own path, making my own story.

"Good. Through adversity comes strength."

"You're right, but can you turn off the guru version of you in your head and become sweet Brock already?" Jasmine groaned. "Do I need to get one of your siblings on the phone? Suzie?"

"Suzie wouldn't answer," Will said. "Your best bet is Yolanda or Forrest."

Brock's facade cracked; he drew upon the faintest smile recalling his apparent siblings. "I miss them so much… I hope Forrest isn't finding the Gym duties to be too much. Is Timmy's journey going well? What about Salvadore…"

Oh. He was kind of like Craig with Lauren. But as he kept listing out names—Billy, Tilly, Tommy, Cindy—I couldn't help but wonder how many siblings did he have?!

Nine was the answer. Nine. But upon closer notice, he felt less like an older brother worrying for his siblings, and more like a single parent. For a few minutes, Brock vented about his anxieties as he apparently always did when he was away from Kanto-Johto, according to a discreet whisper from Jasmine. Will kept him wrapped around his arm, rubbing his back gently while Brock's head rested on his shoulder. It was somewhat comical, seeing the difference in size.

The moment eventually passed, however. "You asked what the point of the meeting was. And uh, like I said, it's not for advice to do better in the tournament or anything like that." I was trying really hard not to fidget. Brock seemed to hate the fact that I'd seen his weak side. "I guess I just want to connect with people who have left their mark on the world. People who can move mountains with nothing but a word. It's selfish, I know."

Because that is what I wanted for myself.

"But I need it," I finished.

"Do you see it? Ambition blazes in her eyes," Will said with a smug smile. "She wants to steal our fire for herself!"

"I want to." I did not dare deny it. "So tell me about your stories. Tell me what made you, you."

"Very well," Will said with a nod, "I'll begin." A pause, then a look to Jasmine, who nodded as if to say that he did not need to censor himself. "My 'story', as you call it, begins with a handful of murders—accidental ones, mind you. One is always going to run wild when they awaken powers as a teen and they don't know what in the world is happening…"

I soaked everything in like a sponge.

—

Maylene's arms felt warm. So warm I kind of never wanted to leave them.

Every Gym Leader was huddled around, save for Byron. Under covers, sipping on alcohol, soda, or juice. The air was thick with the comfortable sort of fatigue that only came from hours spent lounging in good company. This was the end of our third movie of the night, some sappy romcom about two Trainers who fell in love while chasing after the same rare Pokemon that didn't actually exist. I had paid attention to the acting in hopes of creating more joyous stories in the coming fights. It ended with the two main characters fake catching each other by softly bumping Pokeballs on each other's foreheads, which while cheesy, was also really cute.

Even if Candice laughed about it until Gardenia smothered her in covers. They were getting pretty chummy.

Duty unfortunately called. I could not stay with them too long, or I'd never go and work. Warmth was good, but it was important not to sit still, or the engine would go out and I would be extinguished. Plus, I felt more motivated now. According to Jasmine, Will had loved me, and Brock had… tolerated me, which wasn't great, but wasn't terrible. I blew Maylene a kiss, and her entire family erupted in exaggerated 'oooooohs' before I fled. After grabbing my laptop from our bedroom, I made my way to the yard, releasing my entire team to show them the names in my group.

The wind blew in my hair.

"Here it is," I started. "We've come far, haven't we?"

Noises of affirmation followed, each prouder than the last. Sunshine smirked, heat wafting off his shell and snout, and he added this:

We'll go further, still.

"We'll go further, still," I repeated. "Now let's see what we have to deal with."

---

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

 

[Soussouni1]

CHAPTER 341

Group 13

Jude Wilkinson
Ayaan Warsame
Zuri Mwangi
Josh Erick
Ammar Hamili
Aubri Schneider
Cecilia Obel
…

For the last ten minutes, Cecilia had been staring at her group from top to bottom on her phone. She watched the face of each contestant she would have to fight; some were scarred, some were not. Some eyes were innocent, as if they hadn't ever had one close brush with death while others looked as if they had been to hell and back. It was a group similar to the others she'd checked for… no reason in particular. Near-death experiences or not, many of these trainers were far better and more experienced than she was, but there were also those who were new or those she had a chance to win against. No more information could be gleaned from scrolling through the black and white of the league's website unless she desired to learn their names and faces by heart.

Here was the truth.

She was nervous. Confident enough in her abilities and new fighting style in a controlled environment guided by Temperance, but with the stakes so high and the sheer atmosphere the Conference brought to the table, her assurance had been thrown in jeopardy. Having already obtained the sponsorship with Professor Juniper had made her believe that any good results would be a bonus, a platform from which to launch her career in Unova. But there had been a certain weight to that opening ceremony crowd—a particular feeling she'd never gotten before in her Gym Battles or the Solaceon Tournament that she could not describe, yet that had brought forth immense pressure as if she were in the presence of a Spiritomb.

A worm of a thought had managed to blow past all of her defenses—should she just drop everything and battle as she had before? What if she completely bungled her first attempt and made a fool of herself in front of millions? Videos of this would for sure reach Unovan shores before the day was over, and it wasn't as if she'd been effective at not screwing things up lately. Progress as Cecilia might have, she had left a trail of destroyed relationships in her wake. She leaned against her palm, sitting on a table back at her hotel. Cecilia had wanted a bit of peace and quiet from the constant activity of her friends. A party was being organized for Amber Stewart's seventeenth birthday, and she couldn't currently be a part of it—not that she was good at planning them like Emilia had been anyway.

The skin of her hand felt cold.

Cecilia considered staying here, stuck in her own mind for another few hours, but there was no point. She was wasting too much time here doing nothing, and lethargy would be the death of her. The true death. With a flash of crimson that was so familiar, Slowking materialized in the hotel room, slowly blinking. He must have been asleep.

"If you were sleeping, I can have Scizor escort me once again—"

Nonsense. The psychic waved his arm to and fro, shaking his head to deny her. It's been quite a few days since it's been just the two of us, my lady.

She answered with a hum before speaking. "I try to make time for all of you not only as a group, but individuals—" that had been something important to learn. To spend more time one-on-one with her Pokemon and not merely treat them as a collective. "Have you come up with any new jokes for your comedy routine?" she asked, slowly looking over the room to see if she wasn't forgetting anything. Keycard, check. Purse, check. Phone—in her hand.

Slowking gave her an uncommitted nod. So and so. I need to find the right balance for… actually, I'd make a killing if I had a partner. A straight man who can be my foil. Hold on, let me think…

This was not a conversation pertaining to the looming axe over Cecilia's neck; her future battles would be coming within the next few days. This was a goal of Slowking's. To start a comedy show while he was in Unova. Even in the best-case scenario, his audience would be narrow at first due to the fact that your average person did not have their tolerance to telepathy built up, however, they had stumbled over a rumor when brainstorming ways to bypass this.

A talking Slowking. Articulating words verbally as a Chatot would.

Now, this was a simple rumor of an all-powerful Slowking in an isolated archipelago south of Shinwa, but there were hundreds of witnesses. A cargo ship's crew that had washed ashore in a storm had started the rumor ten years ago and multiple people had tried to find this Slowking since, only to fail.

They weren't going to go there; that would be an exercise in futility. However, if it was possible…

Thoughts for later.

"No one else in the team can talk," Cecilia said before smirking. "Even if Talonflame seems to believe otherwise, with her loud caws and the like."

Slowking slapped his stomach and chortled. Oh! That was a good one, especially compared to the usual attempts.

Cecilia looped her purse in her arm and opened the hotel door with a widening quirk in her lips. "How vicious."

For some reason or another, Cecilia had found herself unable to resist the temptation of being rude to others as a joke. She did not know if this was to cope with her own loss—not of her friendships, because she'd begun this before those had gone haywire, but with her loss of self-esteem. Her Pokemon had agreed to this if they could strike back just as much, and Slowking served as the team's translator as always. She'd cut back on a lot of it since she'd started to like Temperance, but the teasing was still here and there. As in all things, she'd learned, balance and boundaries had to be struck.

Her friends and girlfriend would be, as usual, holed up in Ronaldo's penthouse. While they had enjoyed the Conference thus far, they found trainers too rowdy and loud for their tastes. She chatted with Slowking about her future battles and worries while waiting for one of the elevators—they always took long, given that this hotel was full.

"What do you think?" she asked, idly watching the digital display above the elevator doors as the numbers ticked up, floor by floor. "I'm anxious, Slowking. There's a lot at stake. Too much to risk making a fool of myself."

The water type sighed, hands behind his back, as always. There was pity in his eyes. You've come so far, he said. Too far to give up now. You've practiced day in and day out, leaving little time for yourself to have free time or recover from your trauma. He blinked, taking a step forward. It still clings to you and haunts you; I see it on your shoulders.

Instinctively, Cecilia rubbed her shoulders, feeling the strap of her dress. "What?"

The thought that you will never be enough. You try to run and to keep climbing the steps you tell us so much about—the ones that will lead to you becoming more than you could ever hope to be—but you skip some in a rush to satisfy yourself and issues still remain. Then, they follow and whisper doubts in your ear.

"No. I acknowledge it—"

Cecilia stopped when a family of four walked up to the elevators and pressed the down button. Fortunately, Slowking had no such restrictions and continued to speak while she greeted them. The daughter, the youngest of the two children, hid behind her father's legs away from her.

Acknowledging the problem is the first step, my fair lady. Slowking dipped his head at the family, waving at the little girl until she hesitantly waved back with a tiny smile. Ah. How cute. Regardless, speak to Temperance about it. She'll get your head out of that fog like she usually does. And if she can't, well, there's always Zolst's Dragon Pulse.

The elevator dinged, and Cecilia rode it up in silence, thinking about what Slowking had just said. It was true that she'd felt a certain rush to throw away the shackles that had held her back previously, dead in spirit, but alive in the flesh. She looked at the palm of her hand, slowly closing it into a fist, finger by finger, and felt her nails scrape against the skin. Yes, she thought. Feel. Breathe in the air and let it settle into your lungs. Watch the tiny scrapes embedded in the elevator buttons left behind by tens of thousands before you, the texture of the walls, the imperfections in it all.

"Do not seek perfection, but functionality," she whispered to herself.

She felt mildly better now. The elevator dinged again.

Penthouse two.

With a lighter step, she moved out of the doors and slid a copy of Ronaldo's keycard against the sensor before entering and was met with the familiar sight of her group lounging around the living room, save that they were not drinking.

Cassandra blew Cecilia a kiss. It was a funny sight, considering her bangs nearly covered her eyes. "There you are, Cecilia. I was wondering if you were ever gonna show up—"

Ronaldo cut her off. "We saw your group! I hear Aubri Schneider is the apparent favorite to win. A good showing against her would raise your profile!" Ah, coordinators. They always had reputation at the forefront of their minds—not that Cecilia disagreed, in this case.

"We'll… see," The Unovan said, unsure of herself. "I've told you to call me Cece a million times, by the way."

The noble winced, but it was Cassandra who spoke with a laugh. "'Rance gets fussy every time someone other than her does it."

Hm. Cecilia was quite surprised at how good that made her feel. Like her heart had been dropped into a warm bath. "Interesting. Where is she, by the way?"

"In Kael's bedroom with Amber. And y'know—Kael too," Cassandra quickly added. That made sense. Kael was best at planning these things; he was the most responsible out of them all, given his age.

"For the party?"

"No, no, they're just hanging out. Party planning's lame and Amber repeatedly said maybe she didn't need something big or special." Cassandra lay down on the couch backward, her head hanging over the edge. "Just hanging out like usual would be nice."

A ball of anxiety bubbled in her stomach, but she shut it out immediately. Or tried to. She didn't know which. "I'll go; I need to talk to her for a second."

"Slowking! Hang out with us!" Cassandra exclaimed with a grin. Cecilia nodded at him and left on her own.

Hallway to hallway, her step quickened. It felt as if her organs were being ripped out of her through gashes in her skin; it burned, burned, burned until she couldn't help but slam the door to Kael's bedroom open—

And found nothing out of the ordinary.

Kael at his desk working on his blog while awful techno music blasted out of his laptop; Amber, pale-skinned, on her phone while on his bed and under the covers; Temperance at the foot of the bed, mid-sentence and with her mouth still open.

"Babe!" Temperance beamed. "I was gonna check up on you if you lasted more than an hour down in that hellhole of a room." She shot up and skipped toward her, kissing her cheek. The Unovan noticed a pained look from Amber. "What does your group look like? Ronaldo wanted to tell me, but I wanted to hear it out of your mouth."

Cecilia's mouth felt as dry as the Unovan Desert Resort. She stood there, shell-shocked for a moment before staggering back with a hand on her forehead. She stumbled until she stopped herself with Kael's desk and ignored his worried inquiry.

The world had gone dark for a moment. Just a moment. Cecilia could still hear the blood pulsing in her ears, feel it throbbing through her wrists and temples. Amber's stare had turned to worry too. Maybe that was what made it so much worse.

"I'm okay," Cecilia pushed out, suddenly feeling incredibly exhausted. "Sorry, I don't think I ate or drank much today and the summer heat must have taken a toll."

"I'll go get water." Kael left the room with haste.

"Are you sure?" Temperance touched her cheek and stared up at her. "Cece, you look out of breath."

She slumped down in Kael's chair and recovered for a few seconds, feeling her heart slowly recalibrate itself and all the other little processes in her body that kept her alive return to normal. The sweat slowly evaporating off her skin. The oxygen squeezing into her lungs.

"Hey, sorry Ambs, but can you get out for a sec?" Temperance nudged her head toward the door. Ambs? She hadn't heard her call Amber that way before.

The pale girl glanced between the two of them for a moment. "Oh. Uh, sure."

Having already gotten up, she easily slid off the bed and silently walked out of the room. Temperance waited at the door until Kael got back, grabbed the huge glass of water, and put it on the desk in front of Cecilia. She whispered something to him and closed the door.

"Did you get put in Grace Pastel's group?" the coordinator asked.

"Wha—no." And thank the Legendaries she had not. "It doesn't—it's nothing bad, really." Her arms felt itchy. So itchy. Bugs crawling all over her. "Look, it's stupid. It's about—" Cecilia paused for a moment, finding the perfect opportunity to skirt the truth. "—I'm unsure I can actually perform during my battles. I'm terrified of messing up my debut and making a fool of myself."

There was no need to bring the other issue up. Absolutely no need. She was worrying for nothing; Temperance had not given her a single reason to do so yet.

"Cece…" she slid the glass of water up to her. Cecilia downed it in one go. "Look, in a coordinator's life, there's no way to be certain that a new routine or trick you've been working on for weeks or months will work the day of. Maybe your Pokemon will get nervous, or maybe you'll miss the timing, or maybe you'll push them too hard in hopes of impressing the judges. Or maybe, or maybe, or maybe. It never ends when you give it some thought." Temperance pushed herself up and sat on the desk next to her with the weight of hundreds of performances in her eyes. "It's endless, and you never truly shake the nerves. It gets better, but they never leave. But I like it—shows that I still care."

"You're so stoic in your performances," Cecilia said.

"I'm playing a character. I'm Temperance, infallible, flawless inside and out." She snorted, throwing her head back a little. "The Grand Festival and the Conference are two sides of the same coin. I've been in that seat," she said, looking at Cecilia. "When the eyes feel like a million piercing needles and every little movement is judged by a million people or more." She crossed her legs. "Wanna know what helps?"

"Sure."

She expected something like more breathing exercises, or perhaps a trick to make the crowd disappear like Grace was so good at doing, but instead, she got this:

"I have seen you work hour after hour until you lost your voice and your throat bled. Until your entire body was sore and you pushed yourself beyond even your team. Beyond how much I ever trained all at once." Well, she'd needed to catch up, and fast. It only made sense to— "Hey. I see justification in your face already, but you worked like a madwoman because you were hungry for it, and that was beautiful. So no matter what happens, you have to go in there with the knowledge that you did everything you could, and that if, if it doesn't work out, then you'll get it next time. There are a lot of battles to go through."

Right. Even if she messed up the first, or the first few, there was always the opportunity to perform in the next battles. No one would remember a bungled first fight if she knocked the next one out of the park.

"Thank you, darling. That helps."

"Good. And for the record, I know that you are capable, and I truly believe in you." Temperance bent down and kissed her on the cheek. Cecilia felt light.

Slowking had been correct. How astute.

"Also, today's a mean afternoon, I think." Temperance winked.

—

Cecilia had begun to study her opponents when her worried friends had dragged her away after a few hours due to worry she'd overwork herself. There were many minute details to look at to make sure her performance went well, each opponent with a different quirk to work out. A play against Ammar Hamili would be approached completely differently than one against one of her peers, for example. The brutal Orrean would press, press and press her, always keeping on the attack and not allowing her one minute of respite. Part of her found him quite interesting—she'd always been interested in Orre from a young age, given that the country had been Unova's main geopolitical rival before Moltres burned it to smithereens. Sometimes, she'd hear her father or his entourage raging against refugees crossing the well-manned western border, but she'd never actually spoken to a person from the country.

Perhaps she would get a chance.

While Amber still made her uneasy, the reassurance from Temperance had helped Cecilia recover nicely, and it was all thrown under the rug. Slowking would say that something thrown under a carpet was still there until it could no longer be ignored, but—

She feared where that conversation would lead. She feared retreading the beaten path, for she knew where it would lead.

Arceus, she was beginning to feel uneasy again. Cecilia's phone rang on the coffee table, and she grabbed it at once, hoping it would free her from these thoughts. It wasn't Emilia like earlier shortly after the opening ceremony, thank the Legendaries. Her old friend had asked to meet again—but no. Why extend her suffering more than it had already been? There was nothing left to be said. She hadn't ghosted her, just told her that she didn't think it was a good idea, and that had been that. It'd be best for Emilia to move on with her life.

Plus, if that time they crossed paths in the item store told her anything, Pauline might legitimately physically assault her, and Cecilia didn't want her to get in trouble.

Ah. She missed Justin. Would she have thrown his friendship away too, she wondered?

But no. It was Sinnoh's Champion, who had texted her. Her heart admittedly jumped, but she was less shaken than she thought she'd be. They'd already spoken many times, starting with long conversations after the Darkest Day in the aftermath of Solaceon. Cynthia had usually always been the one to initiate these; Cecilia believed that Cynthia most likely thought she'd reach a position of power in Unova at some point and she'd be better off cultivating their rapport. She was quite the crafty woman, often planning years into the future, taking step after step to lay down the exact pieces she needed instead of failing to see beyond the immediate.

Cecilia was just confused this relative closeness was apparently still going on now that she'd lost nearly all of the half of her shard. She'd expected the Champion to only see her for perhaps a week after the Conference when they trekked up to the frontier to catch that Spiritomb, and nothing more. She'd expected Cynthia to keep their contact at a minimum.

Regardless of the answer, when the Champion called, one would be a fool not to go. The text itself was quite vague, asking Cecilia to simply come to the Spire for a meeting if she had the time to and to keep it a secret. There were no signs of what it could possibly entail.

She told her friends she had to go for possibly more than a few hours, but couldn't help but notice the glimmer of hope in Amber's eyes.

Cecilia's stomach churned, and her smile twitched, stretching further in an effort not to falter. She beckoned Slowking and left without looking back—

"Distract me."

Huh? Slowking tilted his head.

Cecilia had reached the elevators without realizing; she needed to keep her thoughts from racing. Her feet felt unsteady on the carpeted floor. "Tell me about this possible partner you were envisioning—a straight man for your routine."

Uh. Sure, if you're certain everything's okay.

"I'll get over it. And if I truly can't, I'll talk to her about it and get answers."

Slowking's face creased in confusion, but he knew that when she got like this, pushing for more would only make her retreat within herself further.

And so, he spoke.

—

Louis would have loved the architecture here. The tall spires, the intricate stone carvings that adorned every arch and pillar, and the delicate tracery of the pointed windows all spoke of a bygone era. Cecilia, though? Cecilia just walked in. Amidst hushed whispers of Will and Brock being present—she remembered Grace was supposed to meet them—she pushed past those thoughts and moved deeper into the building's wide hallways. The sound of every step reverberated against the floor and the vaulted ceilings above, filling the vast space with a steady, rhythmic echo. Cecilia's gaze swept briefly across the towering stained glass windows, their colorful depictions of battles and triumphs muted under the dim light of the chandeliers. She avoided lingering too long; the weight of the building's history pressed down on her like an unspoken judgment. If Grace were here, she would have looked at every window and talked about how she wished to be in one of these one day.

They were expecting her already, and so, they let her through the non-public areas, where through asking for directions multiple times, she quickly found the entry point to the tallest spire in the building—the tower leading to the Champion's room. Like a Braviary's nest, Cynthia had a bird's eye view of everything that went on in the League, it seemed.

The climb up was long, and by the end, painful on her ankles; it surprised her that Cynthia hadn't installed an elevator somewhere and that she walked these steps every day. It felt surreal to retrace her steps as if Cecilia were a little girl imitating her idol. Despite the months passing her by, Cynthia Collins was still her favorite trainer.

The door was less ornate than she thought it'd be. A simple wooden frame, darkened by years of wear and a brass handle that was slightly tarnished. Cecilia leaned against the door. "Hello?" she called out, unsure of herself. "It's Cecilia. You called for me?"

Cecilia heard the response muffled through the thick door. "Ah yes. Come in."

Beyond the door, Sinnoh's strongest sat at her desk with her Togekiss in tow behind her, and that white Zoroark Grace had given her was here as well. The ghost's hair was like a cold, wispy flame. He stared at her a moment, then grunted and turned away with an angered stomp until Togekiss chirped at him and he relaxed, albeit slightly. Cynthia herself looked tired as always. Deep bags sat under her eyes from an entire year of sleepless nights, or close to it, her usual sharpness dulled by the weight of responsibility that seemed etched into her every feature. Togekiss bounced behind the desk and waved at Cecilia and Slowking with a lonely wing and forced Zoroark to do the same.

"Don't mind them; they're both harmless," Cynthia said, eyes drawn to an endless amount of papers strewn on her desk. Cecilia was surprised at how little of it was digital—any Unovan politician would have blown a gasket at such a sight. "Come and sit, Cecilia."

The air was heavy with the scent of aged wood, ink, and stone. Shelves lined the walls, crammed with books and trinkets, each seemingly placed with purpose. Cecilia even noticed a picture of a younger Cynthia sitting in the grass with her Gabite and Roselia. The single desk dominated the center, and upon the ceiling was a large, horizontal, circular stained glass window from which the sun shone. Irritating, but she could work with it. The Unovan felt almost forced to listen to whatever Cynthia said. She'd been moving since she'd told her to sit; she pulled one of two chairs, making sure not to drag it on the ground, and sat down before patting down her dress.

Cynthia's eyes—Cecilia remembered they were grey—met hers. "You wanted to see me," the Unovan said. "Here I am. Is this about Spiritomb?"

Pen continuously scratched against old paper. "Not necessarily. I simply wanted to catch up with you—I've heard many things about you and Grace." Cecilia cringed, nearly recoiling in the wooden chair as her eye twitched and shame permeated through her. "Be at ease, Cecilia. Relax. I'm the Champion, Grace's unfaithfulness would have reached me eventually."

"So you were… worried about me?" The notion was so incredulous Cecilia almost wanted to laugh. If Slowking could sweat, he would have, with the way he was staring at her.

"Is that so surprising?"

Cecilia placed an indignant hand on her chest. "I am no longer anywhere as useful to you as I once was. You know this!" Why was she even raising her voice? "There must be something else!"

Still as calm as ever, Cynthia answered, "would it astonish you to hear that I have a soft spot for you?"

"Excuse me?" Cecilia scoffed.

"A child in search of freedom from abuse through strength, and then a purpose." She tapped her pen against her desk. "Someone who's had to throw away a year of her life to save the world, forged in fires far too hot for her, and dying in the process because it was her or our known universe." Togekiss chirped in agreement next to her. "And yet, after all of it, she's the one who's had it worse out of everyone who was involved. I'd be quite heartless to not feel something after getting you involved in this in the first place, don't you think?"

"I—I don't believe you." The thought alone didn't compute.

"Look at it this way," Cynthia said. "We first met when you first got kidnapped by Team Galactic in Floaroma, and I had no idea you would be a Shard, I still stopped by. You believe I am a machine that operates on logic and pragmatism, but I am also human, and I worry for you." She drummed her fingers against her desk and sighed. "So, Cecilia. How have you been doing lately?"

She was still reluctant, but… sinking into her chair, she spoke. "I've been doing fine. Some days are tougher than others, but that's life, isn't it? I'm trying to move on, and I've met new people who are decent to me." Even Amber was. "It's not the same, but I'll be fine. I just need to get to Unova and get a fresh start."

Never mind the crippling worry that something would happen in her absence when she went long-distance with Temperance.

Cynthia hummed; the sound was long and slow. "I see." A beat of silence passed. "You see, I had plenty of relationship issues as a teenager and young adult. I was the problem for most… hm, nearly all of them. I won't say that I ever got cheated on and that I comprehend your pain, but I remember being devastated when my first partner didn't work out. I was bitter at Bertha for eight months," a slight smile reached her lips, "though she would tell you it was more than that. I don't want to bore you with stories of my life, though. Perhaps when we'll be on the road after the Conference."

Cecilia stared at Cynthia's framed picture once again. This was during her journey—before all of this, but it was the only way she had of visualizing a younger Cynthia in the moment. Still tall and lanky—perhaps even spindly, at times. Hair that was so long it must have been a bother to travel with, yet an endless hunger in her eyes for more. Today, it was still there, if muted. Was she running out?

"What happened to you," she began, "is not something you can simply ignore and hope goes away. It is most likely something that will stay with you for years—possibly your entire life. It is no small thing. Not breaking up with someone, per se, but being cheated on."

"Not like I can do anything about that anyway," she bitterly said. "I bet you're happy now that Grace is tied to the League through Maylene—" her teeth gnawed. "Sorry."

"No, you would be correct. It's quite convenient." Cynthia inclined her head. When Cecilia just blinked at her, she continued. "You're smart; there's little point in lying to you." Little. Not no point. "And you'll have to be stronger than this if you truly want a Spiritomb. As you are now, they would eat you alive in a day."

Cecilia's blood ran colder than it already felt. "But you just said that—"

"It would take years, possibly your entire life to get over this." Cynthia nodded along. "Agreed. And don't worry, I won't tell Togekiss here to fix you, even though he would agree if asked." The ease at which she said such things was terrifying. "But having someone to talk to is good, and I've been informed you've stopped going to your therapist the past three weeks."

"Didn't think I needed it," she replied, her voice small. "I was improving and fast."

"I'll be assigning you a new one. Her name is Aliyah—you'll recognize her name because she handled Grace before." Noticing her reluctance, the Champion continued. "You could disagree, but that takes the Spiritomb out of the picture. I am telling you, they prey on mentally weak people for breakfast. Do you want to be told terrible things and shown unpleasant visions until you break and starve yourself to death?" Cecilia shook her head. "Good. She's a little busy this week due to… obligations abroad, but you start next week on Tuesday. Aliyah will be seeing you twice a week until you head out to Unova; that means she will also be following us in the frontier next month."

She clicked her tongue, foot tapping against the floor. "...fine."

"Good. And you can always show up here once in a while if needed. Just be prepared to have accusations of favoritism thrown your way if it's too noticeable." Ah, that must have been why she'd told Cecilia to keep it a secret. "That was all for today, but you can stay if you wish. What I'm currently doing doesn't require much focus; it is simply long. And who knows, maybe this'll let you soak up experience."

Cecilia took her up on her offer.

It was… awkward, for the most part. While being with Temperance had taught her how to speak to people—or at least bettered her skills at it—Cynthia was still Cynthia, and Cecilia did not know how to approach her. There was a real intimidating force about her that was nearly otherworldly, even when she was so tired it looked like she was ready to just about fall asleep as soon as her head hit a pillow.

But it was also pleasant to speak to her in such a casual setting, and to see where the bread was made, so to speak. Things she approved or disapproved of, how she changed her voice every time she got a phone call to sound more commanding, and all the little things that made a Champion beyond the title itself. The Champion mostly asked about Cecilia's adaptation to her new state—the cold, the negativity, not seeing color—and she found herself talking a lot more than she ever had on the matter than even to Grace. After a while, Cecilia decided to work as well, studying the opponents she'd face in her group in silence to not bother Cynthia.

That was, until she spoke.

"I remember my Conference," the Champion chimed in.

"Were you anxious?"

"Not at all after the first few battles and I got used to the crowd. I had a duty to fulfill." She glanced up at the ceiling—no, further, at the stained glass window as if she was reliving the memory. "I will admit, I did start feeling the nerves again once I was set to face Radetic and his Elite Four. I couldn't help but think—what if I faltered so close to the goal?" She felt at the table's edge as if to ground herself. "In the end, I managed."

Cecilia couldn't believe it; Temperance was right. Everyone got nervous, even a Champion.

"You seem surprised," Cynthia said.

Cecilia shrugged. "I don't know. You seem flawless in the ways that matter." She remembered sitting in that hospital bed, both in Floaroma and in Solaceon with Cynthia at her side, wishing that she too could obtain such infallible strength.

"That means I'm doing my job correctly."

Ah. She could be funny too, even if she hadn't meant it.

After an hour and a half, a group of officials knocked on Cynthia's door, saying that her attention was needed elsewhere, and Cecilia decided to leave as well instead of hanging with that bloodthirsty-looking Zoroark alone in Cynthia's office. This had been nicer than she figured she would have guessed had she known what the Champion had wanted beforehand. Cecilia quickly descended the stairs with Slowking back in his Pokeball, finding the descent far easier than the opposite. She paced back to the public part of the League Headquarters, where she found an annoying sight.

She noticed Grace exiting the Spire on her way out. She subconsciously held her breath and blended in the crowd of government employees, making sure to wait another ten minutes before she left, feeling four things.

A subsumed anger at her own self for feeling like she needed to hide when she'd done nothing wrong.

A bitter sense of frustration at the unfairness of it all, the way Grace's mere presence could turn her world sideways without so much as a word.

A stubborn determination to not let the sight of Grace unravel the progress she had fought so hard to achieve.

A need to see Temperance.

Back to her hotel, she went.

---

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

 

[Soussouni1]

INTERLUDE - SPECTATORS

Anxiety coiled around Temperance's neck like an Ekans looking to asphyxiate her. She did not show it—not with so many people around, including her friends. She was perfection, and perfection could not be outwardly nervous. The coordinator was surprised at how many eyes were set on a low-stakes battle such as this, especially with dozens of stadiums to choose from constantly running fight after fight. Granted, in the Conference, one could argue that every battle's stake was high. It certainly felt that way in her heart waiting for Cece's third battle to begin. Her current score was zero wins, two losses, the second of which she could have won had she stood her ground and not let doubt cloud her mind. Losses early did not matter—no, they did. They were mentally taxing and ramped up the pressure, squeezing a trainer's heart to see if it was steel or cloth.

Temperance knew her girlfriend might be able to afford a few more losses, but would that send her spiraling? Her new style, albeit effective, was still clumsily implemented under so many eyes, and trainers did not tend to remember that Pokemon, too, got nervous and felt the pressure to perform. Few people knew this more than coordinators themselves. Again, Temperance's gaze found itself drawn to the enormous corridor Cecilia would be arriving from.

She wished she could have been down there with her to squeeze her hands tight and warm them.

"Who is Cece—" Kael shrunk from the way Temperance glared at him, "—Cecilia fighting again?"

Of course, everyone in the group had come to support Cecilia in her time of need, though amidst these rowdy folk, voices had to be raised to even hold a conversation. If this was the Grand Festival, people would have been speaking in hushed whispers to not disturb each other or the coordinators about to have one of the most important performances of their careers.

"Some brute from Orre." When Cassandra spoke the word, she did so wrinkling her nose. They had all heard the stories swirling around such a place: a land without laws where encountering death was something one had to grow up with. Temperance would have nodded along and grimaced as well, once. "Hamili, I think."

"Ammar's his first name," Ronaldo corrected. "I've heard nothing but bad things about him and his… tactics."

"Sorry, but I'd rather trust a ten-year-old aspirant trainer than you when it comes to gathering info on trainers," Cassandra said with a laugh—though Temperance figured Ronaldo hadn't heard due to all the noise. She was well-positioned to catch every word that was said in the center.

The coordinator felt a pull on the sleeve of her blouse and turned toward Amber, who had sat down next to her. "Yes?" she asked. In the corner of her mind, she imagined Cecilia tilting her head to the side to the point where Temperance feared for the structural integrity of her bones. She'd picked that up from her slightly. "Is something wrong, Ambs?" She could already see it on her face, but she figured she might as well ask. People were more likely to answer that way.

Amber was new and a nervous little thing. They'd met through a mutual friend a month back at one of the endless Hearthome fundraisers, and she had quickly proven herself to be able to stand among Temperance's closest confidants, be it through social acumen or her skills at contests. Not in participating in them, per se—she had no Pokemon of her own—but in analyzing them and knowing the ins and outs of how Type Energy functioned. It wasn't often that Temperance herself learned something new through someone other than herself. No matter what, however, Amber still couldn't be herself in front of her. She was more real than most, which was why she had even been invited here for the month in the first place, but none of them were their true selves to a fault. Even if they had to tell Temperance off, call her names, or just say no to what she asked, sometimes, they only rarely did so. None of them could be like her.

"You know what, never mind," Amber said. "I guess I'm a little nauseous. There are so many people around and you know how I get about violence." She twirled with a strand of her hair and pulled her other hand away.

"Close your eyes if you need to. And you know, there's no shame in leaving if it really gets to you." Temperance watched Amber nervously smile and adjust her position on the admittedly uncomfortable chair. To be heard better, the coordinator leaned in for a second, and Amber flinched. "Want water?" She turned toward her other friends who were engrossed in a shouting conversation about Orre. "I think Kael has some bottles—"

"I'm fine! Uh, yeah. I'll just close my eyes, I guess."

Temperance raised a finger. "But don't forget to tell us if something's wrong. The last thing I want is for you to be that uncomfortable. Cece would understand."

The conversation ended there, and the coordinator refocused toward the door. The crowd was slowly ramping up as the minutes ticked by, still feral despite the fact that there had been a battle here just thirty minutes ago. The battlefield itself was nearly finished being fixed up by an array of Pokemon. Hippopotas and their evolution for the soil and mud, Gulpin and Bibarel to set up for what appeared to be a torrent of poisonous water, Kadabra to move large chunks of rock and Mr. Mime to reinforce the barrier. The last battle had been on a battlefield dotted with island floating with residual psychic energy high above an icy, ethereal lake, and this one… looked like it was going to be a poisonous swamp of some kind. Often, some of these arenas were boring, only being meadows or deserts et cetera, but the League knew how to play ball sometimes.

"...talk about Ammar's violence, but Cecilia didn't seem that phased by it at all when she studied him," Cassandra said, though Temperance hadn't heard the start of that sentence.

"She's seen her fair share of violence. Her face isn't like that for nothing," Ronaldo spoke so quietly Temperance was surprised she caught it. "Poor girl's been through a lot."

If only they knew the half of it, Temperance thought. Not that she knew much either besides the information available to the public. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs before flicking a piece of dust on her shorts. How long had that been here? Had people noticed? She—

Needed to calm down. No one was looking at her—besides Ambs. This was no performance.

Cecilia had always been cold and closed off. She'd gotten better about it, yes. One day, she had come back from some unknown conversation with her friend Chase Karlson and suddenly apologized and they'd had a long talk about boundaries and what was okay and what was not. While Temperance hadn't known it at the time, it had been a welcome change and she wouldn't go back for any reason. It had made what felt like an attraction-based fling turn into a genuine relationship, and she knew now that they would never have lasted this long otherwise.

Yet even still, Temperance felt like there was part of her girlfriend she could never access—the true weakness within. Slowly, painstakingly, Temperance had peeled away at her like the layers of an onion, but the more she progressed, the more it felt like so much of her was hidden away.

And most of it was because of Grace Pastel and what she'd done to her. How the cheating destroyed Cecilia and crushed what remained of her confidence and self-love to a pulp.

But slowly, she was getting closer. Slowly.

"You seem deep in thought," Amber noticed.

Temperance stayed unmoving from her seat. "Oh, it's nothing. I was just thinking about Cecilia and—"

She could not find it within herself to finish that sentence, nor would it have mattered anyway. A cacophonous applause erupted from all around the stands as the announcer began to speak and introduce the two trainers to the crowd. Temperance despised how unrefined she was being, but it would do for this bunch of trainers.

"...side, the wild and brutal trainer from the untamed lands of Orre, Ammar Hamili!" Her voice rang sharp and loudly across the stadium. "Ammar's no stranger to high stakes and crowds; he learned the ways of battling in their colosseums, and he's come to the other side of the world to give us a show, so give him a huge round of applause!"

Somehow, the crowd got louder. Ammar might not have been a frontrunner, but from the way Cecilia had talked about him, most people despised him.

Oh. She'd thought the crowd was getting louder, but it had done so with boos.

"Or boo him, I guess," the announcer said.

They hated him because he was the only one actively trying to cripple his opponents through violence and maiming, making sure they'd be in the Center for longer to narrow down trainers' options in their future battles even with the best care available, and the few who had attempted to fight fire with fire had just been worse than him. Even Grace Pastel, the other trainer associated with such tactics, was not expected to go that far.

Temperance was realizing she knew way too much about trainers these days, but unfortunately, Cecilia seemed to enjoy speaking about them. Ammar was already up on his platform, unbothered by the noxious swamp the League had created. He was a confident-looking man with sun-kissed skin, dark stubble, and a constant, smug look on his face that made you want to hate him from the get-go. His arms and face were dotted with scars, some shallow, some deep.

He was also frustratingly attractive, with the way his plain shirt was unbuttoned. Ugh. Like he could ruin her life if he wanted.

"On the other side of the battlefield, we have our famous Unovan! A rising star who's gotten eight badges in her first year, who's helped Sinnoh beat the scourge that was Team Galactic in her time of need despite being a stranger to these lands, I give you… Cecilia Obel!"

This time, they cheered, and loudly. Cece was wearing a fitted sky-blue tunic with a high neckline and a subtle gradient that faded to white near the hem, the fabric soft and flowing enough to move with her but still practical. Her leggings were a sleek silver-gray, hugging her form and catching the light faintly with a metallic sheen that hinted at elegance without being overdone. On her feet, she donned slightly white sneakers with a hint of wear, the kind you'd expect from someone who spent a lot of time on the go.

It was a starkly different look than her usual, one but it was what she needed to embody the theme of this battle, and it would have nothing to do with poison.

The referee announced the rules—no killing, three-on-three with one switch, et cetera, et cetera, and Temperance found herself squeezing the side of her chair. Both trainers had already locked in their first choice before the battle, so it did not matter who sent out their Pokemon first; they both had the same amount of time. Ammar did so, releasing his mighty Fearow. The bird erupted from the Pokeball with a sharp cry, its voice cutting through the air like a blade. Its faded feathers were a patchwork of battle-worn plumage. The crimson crest atop its head was jagged, no longer smooth, with small nicks and missing tufts that told stories of vicious clashes. Its beak, long and sharp, bore faint scratches and a slight curve at the tip as if it had been blunted and reforged by countless strikes.

It hovered there, each flap of its massive wings a testament to its strength and sending blasts of wind below the flying type that might as well have been Gusts on their own. Smart to release a flying type when stepping in the poison would slowly diminish a Pokemon's strength. Cecilia's Pokeball had already been in the air—yes, she threw it just like old timers did—looking at the bird with unabashed awe in her blank eyes and a smile that looked like it belonged to a little girl. Good. It was not so much as being in character as it was understanding that Fearow encapsulated the theme of her play. Cece had also always loved the power that came through raw strength.

And it was also about having a good time.

Scizor would be the first. He appeared amidst the swamp, ankle-deep in one of the shallower parts of the water and unharmed by its poison or fumes even as they slid off his gleaming red plates of armor. Temperance knew that within one of his pincers was a Flying Gem ready to be used.

The referee's arm bore down, and the stadium immediately went quiet.

"Do your thing, Fearow," Ammar lazily ordered in a thick accent before following with a series of whistles. His nonchalant tone betrayed him—Temperance knew focused eyes when she saw them. It was a front to frustrate his opponent, but he was taking her seriously, just as he would every trainer facing him.

Fearow croaked, each movement of its mighty, scarred wings kicking up more and more poison, and dove toward Scizor. The bird was not fast so much as it was mighty. It was like looking at a freight truck barrel at you on a road. There was a sudden sense of inevitableness that made you want to freeze up.

Cecilia took a deep breath and lifted up a hand, her movements smooth like the wind. "Scizor steps forward in a dance."

It would be Swords Dance; it would be Agility—but that was not what Temperance was focused on.

Her voice accomplished three things. One, its tone screamed narration, somehow being fast enough to fit the rhythm of battle, but slow enough for the audience to parse and relish every word; two it was loud—louder than Cecilia had ever used to speak and it overwhelmed the ears and made people focus on her and commanded attention with an almost magnetic pull, every syllable sharp and deliberate, like the cracking of a whip; three—and perhaps it was a little too early for this—it carried an undeniable sense of purpose, as though her voice alone was an instrument in the battle itself.

Scizor moved graciously through the muk; his wings buzzed and he danced, each movement a deliberate motion to make him move faster and faster as his edges sharpened and dripped with a metallic gleam that seemed almost alive. "Each step builds momentum," Cecilia continued, her voice rising in tempo to match Scizor's accelerating movements. "His edges gleam, sharper than a blade, preparing to strike with unmatched precision—"

Just in time, she finished. Fearow descended from the sky like a thunderbolt, a streak of brown and cream against the air. Its wings stretched wide, each feather sharp and bristling with power, cutting through the air with a forceful whoosh that made the crowd instinctively flinch. The bird's talons gleamed with a wicked power—it screeched when Scizor slashed across its legs, but it did not relent and grabbed him by the shoulders, carrying him up into the air. Scizor struggled, but Fearow's grip was ironclad, and beams of light erupted from his body powerful enough to burn the winged beast's plumage. His wings flared with Bug Buzz until Fearow repositioned its grip and tore half of them apart.

The Orrean trainer called for a Drill Peck, but Cecilia paid him no mind. "Scizor panics," she said, slightly breathless, and through her voice that rivals Fearow's screaming, her steel type ceases his thrashing and senseless attacks, "but he sees how high he is, he tastes the crisp air, understands the cost of freedom—"

Ammar scoffed as his Fearow still dominated Scizor in the air. "Kid, what the fuck are you on about?"

"—and he is unbound."

Scizor's claw shone with a brilliant light blue, the color of the sky, and Temperance was overtaken by a feeling she could not name. What it felt to look at an endless expanse and to realize how large the world was. Pressurized air swirled around the two Pokemon until it exploded and separated them. Fearow let out an annoyed grunt, having been far less hurt than its opponent in the exchange, but—

Two-winged, torn apart, and shredded, poison penetrating the tiny openings in his plating,

Scizor flew.

"Sharpened and quickened through his dance, Scizor fights to be free. Close Combat."

The Scizor species couldn't fly. It was impossible. Yet with a little help from a Flying Gem and having trained their control, they were defying the odds. Ammar's eyes widened, but he was undeterred, knowing his Fearow would win in a battle up close through its bulk and brutality.

And yet.

Scizor fought. Each part of his body was a weapon, a blade, a blunt object; each strike was accompanied by a burst of wind that shattered bone or pierced feathers and thick skin. The Fearow shrieked, its wings beating furiously to maintain altitude as Scizor clung to it, his metallic claws locking around its slender neck. The two spiraled through the air, a violent dance of desperation for liberation and violence that left Scizor's armor broken and his body lit aflame. Two wings were not enough to regulate his inner temperature. Cecilia's narration grew faster, more desperate, more hungry, and Temperance noticed that even the battle's commentator had stopped speaking—not that she had ever focused on her. Her girlfriend's voice was not commanding Scizor as much as it was now in lock and step with his actions. She knew him so well that she simply knew what he would do next, and whatever she said nearly always was exactly what Scizor was doing in the moment.

Trainer or not, coordinator or not, one would be a fool not to understand the amount of practice; of blood, sweat, and tears; of trust needed to achieve such a feat.

The struggle between the two Pokemon looked close to the untrained eye, until it simply was not. Using its beak as its implement, Fearow stabbed right into a minute opening in Scizor's burning flesh on his lower abdomen, and just like that, it was over. The flying type croaked, creating an updraft to keep itself still and gather back its strength. Some bootleg version of Roost still useable in the air? Cuts and bruises slowly healed, leaving behind dried blood, yet not wiping the mild exhaustion.

Ammar whistled, and he stared at Scizor's crumpled body collapsing amidst the swamp. "Not bad, not bad."

"What follows an unbounding, the first experience with freedom, is usually a flight too close to the sun." Cecilia ignored him, instead instantly releasing her second Pokemon—her fierce Hydreigon. He appeared onto the field a silent killer, his six narrow eyes facing the Fearow with a surprising amount of intelligence. Yet, Temperance knew, he was restrained.

"Always wanted myself one of those," Ammar quipped, "Fearow." He nudged his head forward and whistled once more, this one more grave and long-winded.

Fearow closed his eyes and began to glow and its feathers stood utterly still in the constant wind.

"Hydreigon," Cecilia started; beforehand, her tone had been wondrous and wanting, but now it evolved to what could only be described as restrained joy, almost terrified, "looks upon the world and finds himself with more power at his fingertips than he has ever expected to own, and so, decides to test its limits and experiment."

Already, power had been surging in all of Hydreigon's throats. One, the central head, cold and blue, its fangs tipped with a cold that smoked amidst the noxious fumes. A beam of ice burst out, but it hovered right in front of his face, growing more and more intense as frost spread among the swamp. The other two heads burned with opposing fires. On the left, a deep, searing red glow radiated from its jaws, embers falling like dying stars. The air around it shimmered and warped, suffused with blistering heat. Flames licked hungrily at its fangs, twisting and writhing like serpents desperate to be unleashed. Each breath sent tiny bursts of fire cracking into the swampy air, the moisture hissing into steam on contact. The right head burned differently—a savage, wild orange with flecks of golden yellow that sparked and danced in chaotic patterns. The fire there seemed alive, almost feral, snapping at the air as if impatient for release. The three orbs combined together into a ying and yang, cold and hot, opposites that had no right to stick together, yet were subjugated by draconic energy peppered throughout its structure. Just like they'd practiced.

"Do you know what it feels like to be freed yet feel trapped at the same time? To still feel the ghost of the chains wrapped around your ankles despite the wind blowing through your hair?" Cecilia whispered, with Temperance hanging on her every word. "It feels like this. Frostburn."

Ammar, who had seemed content to buy time until now, whistled to his Fearow, and the flying type's eyes snapped open right as the orb left Hydreigon's combined maws. It did not rush forth at speeds that would distort the air, yet it turned the battlefield into an incoherent mesh of fire and ice and poison and, and, and. A piercing cry sliced through the chaos. Fearow's wings snapped open with a force that sent a gust of wind rippling through the swamp, scattering steam and ash and cold like dry leaves in a storm. For a moment, it hovered midair, the powerful beats of its wings holding it steady. Then its entire body tensed, talons curling and beak pointing forward like a spear. The atmosphere around it began to shift—an invisible pressure radiated outward, pulling the battlefield's fractured elements into its orbit.

There was an unimaginable focus in its eyes, like it could see things that it never had. Fearow launched itself forward in a burst of speed that was almost deafening, the sound like a thunderclap tearing through the air. Its trajectory was direct, unyielding, and terrifyingly precise, cutting through the mesh of fire and ice with the defiance of a creature that refused to be caged by chaos. The move was rarely seen, but it was known by all because of how iconic it was. Giga Impact. Fearow tore through the orb that had grown to twice its size, and it exploded in a mixture of steam and vapor that suddenly expanded and exploded amidst the barrier. Temperance could not see the results, though she heard Amber shriek, remembering she was not alone. Her breath hitched in her throat as everything slowly dissipated. The mist, debris, flames, and everything you could think of.

Hydreigon was skewered by Fearow's beak like a Magikarp, blood pouring out of his chest with half of his body submerged in the remains of the poisonous bog. Each breath came out as a pathetic wheeze that betrayed that one of his lungs had been punctured. They were wet, weak, and uncomfortable to listen to. Fearow too, had taken punishment. Not only was it more skin than feathers, covered in burns and frostbite, but the talons that once gripped with terrifying strength now flexed weakly against the muddy ground, their tips coated in a thin layer of frost that flaked away with each futile attempt to rise.

Yet it managed to remove and open its beak regardless, and a thin Ice Beam finished Hydreigon off; the dragon went limp in the poison. That was the thing about Ammar, apparently. He ramped up instead of slowing down.

"That sure was anti-climactic for your little show," Ammar taunted with a shit-eating grin.

Cecilia's arms went limp when she recalled the dragon, but Temperance could tell she was hiding a smile. This was even better than what she'd wanted. "He was given too much too soon, and in his confusion, failed to achieve anything at all."

"Roost," the Orrean ordered. He seemingly did not care for switching; he trusted his partner could pull this through no matter what. You could see it in his eyes. A bond a decade old, or perhaps even older than that. Shared scars and death stared in the eye countless times between the two of them. Fearow slowly pulled itself from the muk and began to glow. "Atta girl."

The swamp quaked and was utterly destroyed, with upturned earth and rocks below having mixed with the liquid and turned much of the arena to hard ground. Enough to release one of her land-bound Pokemon if she so wished—not that she had many of those. Slowking could fly on his barriers, Golurk on rockets, and only Toxicroak—

Cecilia grabbed her final Pokeball and prepared herself for the third and final act. "You fail again and again. Countless times until you wonder if life was better before you realized the vastness of the world and how overwhelming it all is." Talonflame shrieked in the air as Cecilia threw her Pokeball the highest she'd ever done—it went on and fell back behind her ramp. "Or," she said, tone rising, "Or," it was feverish now, almost in reverence of flight. Madness, "you can embrace it," Cecilia continued, her voice rising with fervor, almost trembling with the weight of her words. "You can let it consume you, let it carry you higher and higher, until the fear, the doubt, the failures—they're all specks beneath your wings."

Talonflame formed a sleek silhouette of red and white against the sky. She soared with a cry that seemed to tear through the swamp's stagnant atmosphere, her wings cut clean through the haze of frost and the remnants of battle below. Ammar whistled as Talonflame sped up, spinning around the battlefield until she'd created a veritable tornado that seemed to bounce off of Fearow every time it got close. Brute or not, their control is still excellent, Temperance thought to herself.

"These failures are all learned lessons, mind you," Cecilia added, "But Talonflame wishes she could stop fearing an inevitable fall, and thus—" Fearow jumped in the air, rising with a ragged screech as it hungered to destroy, destroy, destroy Talonflame; she was one third its size, able to be torn apart with a single swipe of its talon. "—she finally understands what it means to soar."

The battle began in earnest, the air alive with the clash of wingbeats and shrill cries. Scorching winds conjured by Talonflame's fiery wings were countered by cold drafts, heavy and oppressive, generated by Fearow's own power. Cecilia spoke so quickly, stumbling over her words, but it was half intentional. Passion, joy, and revelation were frantic, and so she would be as well. Brave Bird—no, Acrobatics! She uses Flaming Feathers and, and—it was never-ending, and each strike brought more laughter as Talonflame proved too quick to get fatally hit. Fearow could land a few cuts and grazes here and there, but it had moved on to using Uproar instead.

It warmed Temperance's heart to see Cecilia this way. Weeks ago, when they had first met and she had analyzed her girlfriend's battles, it was not just her battling style that was boring, but herself, for she barely emoted at all. She was not a part of the battle with her Pokemon, but merely a spectator watching from beyond a window. Quiet. Passive.

"Drawing on her speed, Talonflame banks hard to the right, flames trailing from her wings in a fiery arc!" Cecilia screamed.

Talonflame climbed higher, the sun at her back, forcing Fearow to follow her into the blinding light. For a moment, it seemed to work; the larger bird hesitated, its sharp eyes blinking against the glare. Talonflame seized the opening, diving like a comet with a Flame Charge turned Flare Blitz, her body encased in fire as she slammed into Fearow's side as her body gleamed with metal and she generated a shockwave—

A sharp whistle.

Mistake.

Fearow absorbed the impact with a guttural screech, twisting its body mid-air to catch Talonflame, its claws still weakened from the thermal shock wrought by Hydreigon, but still able to rival the fire type's strength. The larger bird lashed out with its talons, catching one of Talonflame's legs in a crushing grip. A sharp cry of pain escaped her as the two birds locked together, tumbling through the sky in a violent spiral.

Fearow's talons clenched tighter, pulling Talonflame closer as its wings flared and fire overtook them, stabilizing their descent. Talonflame retaliated, her smaller talons snapping forward to grasp Fearow's legs in turn. The struggle became a deadly aerial waltz; they were intertwined together, struggling for domination as they stumbled toward the earth and wind turned to battering rams powerful enough to bend metal and sharpened knives that could cut through stone.

Yet Fearow's legs went limp.

Right before they hit the ground.

Talonflame flared her wings wide, straining against gravity with a final burst of strength. She pulled up sharply, her body bloodied body trembling as she skimmed mere inches above the dirt, a trail of scorched earth marking where the tips of her feathers had grazed the ground. Fearow hit the earth with a thunderous crash behind her, its massive body rolling to a halt, limbs sprawled in the dirt, unmoving save for the faint rise and fall of its chest.

Temperance couldn't believe it.

A story in three acts, each Pokemon representing a single character that resonated with her. Far from flawless, but at the very least executed correctly—the audience erupted into cheers despite the fact that Cecilia hadn't won. Ammar let out a pensive 'huh' as he recalled Fearow and released a Krookodile without missing a beat on a patch of less-poisoned mud. Temperance noticed a little gasp at the sight of the ground type, but Cecilia had been ready for it. The results were already obvious, but she'd won in everyone's hearts.

Krookodile made quick work of Talonflame, using the earth as a means to hit a sky-bound target. The attempts themselves were clumsy, but they exploded with scorching mud knitted with darkened tendrils that seemed to seek out Talonflame. The flying type eventually fell back to earth.

"It's important to plant your feet on the ground and to remind yourself of where you've come from, sometimes," Cecilia said before she bowed to the audience. "Thank you." She quickly went to pick up Talonflame's Pokeball—she'd gotten a little carried away there—and recalled the flying type before leaving.

Kael, Cassandra, and Ronaldo all spoke of her achievements and praised her performance, but Amber was more restrained. As if she were focused on something else entirely. Temperance hadn't been paying attention to her enough to see if she'd closed her eyes or not, but she seemed to be doing okay.

Amber looked away, then at Temperance, and then away again, like she didn't know where to look. "I was wondering if I could talk to you about something, uh, on my birthday?"

"Sure thing, Ambs," Temperance answered with a slight smile. She was a good kid. Kind of made you want to take off her hat and ruffle her hair a bit. Technically, she was a few months older than Cecilia, but it was just the way she acted… "Let's get going, shall we?"

"Let's."

Temperance checked the time for her phone. Grace Pastel should have been finishing one of her battles right about now.

She was going to try to see her not because she wanted to confront her, but because she wanted to understand how that girl had captured Cecilia's heart and still owned it to this day; she might have told Temperance to stop pretending to be Grace, but Temperance was certain she still thought of her during their nights together—and by the Legendaries, that was frustrating now that she'd gotten a taste of Cece's true affection. With how famous Grace was, it'd be easy to keep track of her whereabouts online.

Really, she just wanted to observe.

It would be alone, of course. She would not subject Cecilia to such torment.

"Cassandra, do me a favor, will you?"

—

The battlefield before Maylene shimmered with gold. No, it was gold. She'd never seen this Pokemon before—Gholdengo, it was called. It looked quite cheerful for a ghost, even if everything it touched turned to solid gold. A flurry of vines shot out from Angel, whipping through the air with precision as they sought to ensnare Gholdengo. The golden figure dodged with an almost whimsical ease, its body turning to shining ribbons as it weaved between each appendage. Spores and the power of the sun exploded from their tips, and Gholdengo let out a pained metallic chime before the golden ribbons reformed atop a rock it had also twisted in its image. From its perch, Gholdengo raised its thumb, flicking a coin with casual ease. The small, gleaming piece tore through the air, breaking the sound barrier with a deafening crack before slamming deep into Angel's hide. The impact left a jagged, golden wound, and Angel staggered, his vines momentarily faltering in tandem with the ghost's laugh.

"Yeah, it's over," Nia whispered beside Maylene. "Surprised she didn't bring out Tyranitar—not that it would have made a difference."

"She's having fun," Maylene grouched.

She still couldn't help but grind her teeth. It wasn't a battle Grace had come in expecting to win, given she was fighting Jamie Pearce. Already, she'd lost her Electivire and Claydol in this fight and had made use of her one switch while Pearce still had his Gholdengo raring to go with a bunch of unknown Pokemon from Galar and Paldea in his pocket. Even then, Grace looked like she was having the time of her life. She was playing Intrepid Explorer this time—hell, she'd even bought the cutest costume, hat and all—and of course, she was decked out in a Poketch Watch and their logo on her back and front.

Gholdengo had been a happy little accident in that regard; now she could pretend she'd come here to loot and use the ghost for her own greed.

A fun story that would end with a human's hubris defeated, Maylene supposed. It wasn't the end of the world. This was only her first battle; she'd just been unlucky to draw Pearce first.

Candice shrugged. "She put up a good fight! Aubri's gonna have her work cut out for her if she wants to win," she nonchalantly chimed in. "Who do you think takes it between the two of 'em, Nia?"

"Pfft, could go either way." The grass type Gym Leader leaned in as Tangrowth this time took a flurry of golden coins. Nearly all of his body was covered in a thick, golden crust, now.

"Solar Blade! I'm not leaving without any treasure!" Grace clamored with a stomp.

Light shimmered through the gold, and Angel exploded with light, his vines glowing with a radiant green as he surged upward. He pushed himself off the ground, his hulking mass surprisingly agile, dodging a well-timed Shadow Ball that swept low, kicking up a cloud of golden dust where it struck. The attack had been aimed to pin him down, but Angel wasn't ready to be outmaneuvered again.

His vines shot outward in all directions, still seeking purchase. The golden terrain beneath him, reshaped by Gholdengo's touch, gave no grip, but Angel found his anchor in the twisted remnants of a once-tall tree now frozen in gold. Using the leverage, he swung himself forward, closing the distance with the elusive steel-ghost. Like a bolas, he threw a pair of vines that caught Pearce and his Pokemon off-guard. It wrapped itself around the ghost and tightened with swirling darkness. Gholdengo turned them to gold within the second, but the time bought had been enough for a Knock Off to slam on the steel type's head.

"Fun's over," Nia said.

Pearce calmly ordered a Metal Sound that made Angel and all of the spectators wince. The grass type recovered just in time to have a point-blank Flash Cannon delivered in his gut, and he fell a pile of smoldering vines and gold.

"Tangrowth is unable to battle!" the referee bellowed. "Victory to Jamie Pearce!"

The three Gym Leaders were on their way out as soon as the cheers ended. Grace would need to give her Pokemon to one of the nurse teams waiting in the stadium for her Pokemon to receive the best care available, given her next fight would be in a couple of hours. Sometimes, it wasn't fast enough. The system was unfair, but some said it allowed for further strategizing. Either way, with the way the tournament was organized, they didn't have much of a choice; even if the Conference lasted a month, the group stages were weeks of non-stop battling for every participant. Sinnoh had chosen to create a gauntlet both mental and physical for its trainers and Pokemon instead of the many alternatives available.

Even as Gym Leaders, they weren't allowed in the trainer holding room; they had to wait for Grace to come out instead. She was sweaty, still riding the high from that fight despite the fact that she'd gotten utterly crushed. Luckily for them, she wasn't getting swarmed, just nodding and greeting the people who had come along as fans to cheer for her. Maylene had seen a few of them wearing her merch. Her other friends—Denzel, Emilia, and Pauline—had found her first, it seemed. Marley was preparing for her own fight, and Lauren's group had been going on for days, with Mira going to every single fight.

"Guys! That Gholdengo was crazy, weren't they? I thought he'd bring out someone else, but it played so perfectly! And I learned a lot!" Grace blurted out as soon as she was within earshot. "It's unfortunate that he doesn't have many videos of his battles out! I bet I could take Gholdengo down if I had another try—"

"Relax, okay?" Gardenia said, patting her on the shoulder. "You've got another one coming in a few hours, so you've got to calm down and rest your mind."

Denzel scratched the back of his head and glanced between Candice and Nia. He must not have been used to hanging out with them still, even if they'd met a few times during the Conference already. "Heard a lot of stuff about that. Lots of horror stories about people throwing or not having the right Pokemon ready for a fight."

"Sheesh. Sounds terrible…" Emi muttered. Grace had said there was something off about her.

"Oh yeah, the group stages gave me a headache." Candice gripped her forehead as if she could recall the exact pain. "I was fried by the end and lost a bunch of fights I could have won. Luckily I'd won enough by that time that it didn't matter."

Grace flexed her non-existent muscles—okay, maybe that was too mean—and puffed out her chest. "I can… probably take it. I'm excited!" She turned toward Maylene. "Maymay, what'd you think?"

Grace looked at her with those yearning, Lillipup eyes she always made, and Maylene couldn't help but adjust her collar. "You were awesome, obviously. And Cass has been improving so much I'm surprised at how well they did."

Grace kissed Maylene on the cheek; her heart felt warm and her stomach fuzzy. "Tell them when they're out of the Center; it'll make their day coming from someone else. They're already too used to compliments from me."

"I'll tell them too!" Candice cheered. "Should we go and eat lunch or what? Double date?"

"Candice, please don't be so exclusionary." Gardenia pulled her back to reality and shook her head with a silent sigh. Then, she leaned in and whispered, "plus, Cynth called us over. I think she needs help with community outreach or something like that." No one but Maylene had caught that, though she already knew about this. "You kids feel free to hang out together—"

"I was thinking, we could go the two of us, right?" Grace asked. "Unless it bothers you guys."

"You go ahead and have fun, gremlin. I'll hold down the fort." Pauline gave her a thumbs-up.

"Uh, right," Maylene said. "It's pizza today, right?"

"Legendaries, you'll love it," Candice yelled a little too loudly.

Nia spoke up. "To be honest, I don't really see why people like it so much—"

"Don't listen to her; she's a deviant!" Candice cut in.

Pauline blinked, and something on her face shattered. She nearly gasped. "Wait, she doesn't enjoy pizza—"

"I just think it's not the best thing in the world."

The conversation continued for a few minutes until the group dispersed. There was still a little ball of nervousness in Maylene's stomach at the thought of eating something that deviated from the norm, and her throat desperately tried to get her to say no, but then she stared at Grace and saw her take off her silly little hat and wipe the sweat off her brow before she realized Maylene had been looking at her, and she beamed like the sun.

Everything was so wonderful with her.

There was just—

Just the guilt. Hidden so deep within that even her girlfriend couldn't wrestle that out of her. It was a terrible, terrible thing she'd done, and while Maylene would never give up Grace for anything in the world, it still hurt to think about Cecilia. She'd helped Maylene with her father and her Gym so much, and what had she gotten for it? Nothing. Worse than nothing. A broken heart.

Grace grabbed Maylene's hand, and they made their way toward a Kalosian pizza place up in the hills.

Maylene had told Grace that anything they could both tell Cecilia right now would most likely just make things worse. The Unovan most likely did not want an apology or for Maylene to grovel at her feet, but that left a bad taste in the Gym Leader's mouth. She shielded her eyes from the morning sun and rolled her shoulders—Grace was looking right at her. Don't freeze. Keep walking. Look at her and smile. Her girlfriend sheathed the daggers that were her eyes, and they softened within a second.

Arceus, she was perceptive.

But no. Maylene was not going to see Grace's ex, especially without informing her first. It would be incredibly stupid of her to create drama, even if she was being selfish. After all, had Grace not stood there and taken her… comeuppance, she had called it?

So why?

Why in the world was Temperance in the restaurant when they arrived?

---

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