Chương 408: Chapter 335 - Genesis

My fingers tingled as I sat on the Eterna City tram that would bring me to Gardenia's Gym. The most direct line still wasn't repaired from the bombs, so I'd needed to take a large detour. Flying there would have been quicker, but the long tram ride would give me what I needed: time to soothe my nerves by going over my plan—not that it was very detailed, anyway. Mental flowcharts would just get me in trouble and make Gardenia think I wasn't respecting her, or at least that's what I figured would happen.

I mumbled under my breath, imagining the responses I would give to different questions. Just be yourself, they said, and yeah, that was a good idea in theory, but Maylene had put the fear of Arceus in me, and now I was terrified I wouldn't be enough. Did I have qualities I could push forward to make myself look better? I was supposed to spend the entire day with her; masking my flaws the whole time wasn't going to be possible for that long, especially when it was Gardenia we were talking about.

What was this, a job interview? There was a trace of a smile pulling my lips upward. I just really wanted her to like me. Hell, I didn't even have Buddy on me today; it was just Mimi around my wrist. The steel type missed their usual companion. I could see the Gym from the tram window—a large, open dome that allowed the sun to shine through its main battlefield.

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

"Now stopping: Eterna City Gym. Now stopping: Eterna City Gym." Pushing past other people, I got off the tram, taking a deep breath as I stepped in front of the empty Gym courtyard. It doubled as another one of the city's countless green spaces and gardens, with numerous species of plants and trees giving ample shade from the scorching summer heat, but it was early in the morning, and people had few reasons to go to the one in front of a closed Gym.

After messaging Maylene that I'd made it and clutching my phone against my chest once she'd texted me encouraging words, I hesitantly took step after step toward the wide front doors, rubbing a finger against Mimi's smooth form. They vibrated back, and the sensation traveled up my arm and fingers. Things were going to be fine. Unlike Maylene or Candice's Gyms, I didn't have to knock or wave for someone in the lobby.

I had arrived exactly on time at ten in the morning, and three League Trainers were already waiting for me. Two of them were raven-haired and short—ah, they were probably siblings now that I could get a better look at their faces. Maybe twins? They were just so similar it was like looking at two reflections. The final one was—"Ah, Grace." The final one was named Roland, though according to Maylene, Gardenia and the people around the Gym always called him Roro. He was her right-hand man at the Gym.

His pale skin was covered in freckles, including his hands.

"You're as punctual as we were told you'd be."

"Come in, come in!" one of the other girls said. I could tell she was the kind of person who always brimmed with excitement, which looked like the polar opposite of her exhausted-looking sister.

"Leader Gardenia's in her room doing some last-minute work while waiting!"

"Oh. I wouldn't want to bother her—""Nonsense!" she yelled over my voice, pulling me by the wrist. Her eyes widened slightly at the sight, and she pulled it closer to her face." Oooh, nice bracelet. Is that real gold?" I blinked at her, not knowing what to say.

"Uh—""Shina, stop harassing our guest," her sibling said. They kept bickering for a few seconds until Roland reigned them in, scolding them for being rude in front of me. He sent them off to help with some soil-enriching work upstairs, leaving only the two of us.

"Sorry about those two. I told Gardenia we should have sent someone else," he said with an apologetic smile—almost sheepish.

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

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

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

"You—yeah, lead the way." His brows creased. I was going to die. Gardenia's Gym was much like Candice's: vast and open, with wide halls that invited the sun to pour in through tall glass windows. The light seemed to flow into every corner, casting patterns on the polished floors and giving the entire space a feeling of warmth that I felt struck by even in the midst of winter when the streets were laden with snow, and you could see your breath. It was also a lot less busy, but somehow more organized.

Like every trainer knew their tasks and few moments were wasted—but I was too nervous to keep track of everything around me. Each step brought me closer to the woman who would… well, even if she disapproved of me, I didn't think it would sink my relationship, but it would certainly cast a heavy shadow over it. And—to be honest? It would just make me really happy to have her approval. Not only because Maylene was basically her little sister, but because I admired Gardenia a great deal.

The walk to Gardenia's room—the Solarium, as Roland called it—was quicker than I'd anticipated. A set of doors opened to reveal an inner chamber where an entire room made of glass stood beyond. From the outside, you could see lush greenery spilling from every corner, the space teeming with plants of all shapes and sizes. This was apparently where she lived. I'd find this place suffocating if I had to spend more than a few days here; it was basically Eterna Forest without the trees or the cold.

While Gardenia herself was deeper in the Solarium, a wide-eyed Roserade drifted among the plants, watering some of them with a brilliant liquid that dripped from her blue bouquet. Life Dew, probably. She was so engrossed in her work that she hadn't even noticed us until Roland had to knock on the door repeatedly.

"Roserade will take you in. Gardenia's probably engrossed in knocking some redundancies out of Eterna City's budget." He laughed.

"Trimming the fat out of it so we can save wherever we can." He paused for a moment.

"Hey, can you do me a favor?" Roland turned toward me with an expectant stare.

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

"Nia's never had this much control over city policy before, and well—" his lips flattened, and he let out a little scoff.

"She's someone who likes to have a lot of control over things, so she's been working hard. Juggling the city, the Gym, and her own personal projects with, uh, Candice." Oh. He knew about them already; they weren't close friends without a reason. Or maybe best friends now that Candice had slid over to 'girlfriend.'

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

"Hey, Rose. This is Grace." The grass type made googly eyes at me, putting her hand forward. A strange, multicolored vine slid out of her flower and wrapped around my hand. I yelped, jumping a little at the sudden touch—it was warmer than I thought it'd be, almost like a surface left exposed to the summer heat for hours—and she shook my hand. Her voice when she said she'd heard of me was a little intense despite the quiet.

She confirmed what Roland had said, that Gardenia was working to squeeze as much time in as she could before we could spend the day together. The difference was that Roserade clearly did not approve of this, but this wasn't a new phenomenon. Roserade continued mouthing her own trainer off before she cut herself off and giggled. Her voice had a calming quality to it, soft and melodic, the kind of sound you could listen to for hours without ever growing tired of it.

Her laugh was like the gentle rustle of leaves in a breeze. Familiar, soothing, and endlessly pleasant. Okay, then. Time to face the music. A breath to soothe my nerves. A caress around my wrist from Mimi to make me feel loved. The clenching of a fist to remember that this was real and not a dream. I followed her into the garden. Plants prickled at my skin with each step. Some were beautiful, and I'd ask Roserade about what kind of plants or flowers they were to break the ice.

She said she was the primary caretaker of the Solarium while Gardenia was working and that they were always ordering more plants from abroad. Recently, they'd been looking into getting some native to Driftana, the massive continent in the southern hemisphere that was uninhabited by humanity save for the three Ranger Nations that clung to its coast. It was interesting to learn more about the place from Roserade. People had gone to explore the interior before, but it seemed to change every year.

It was a continent blasted by deathly winds and reshaped its landscapes as if the earth itself was restless. Mountains would crumble, rivers would vanish, and vast stretches of forest would appear where none had existed before. Not only that, but the Pokemon there were aggressive because of how unused to humans they were.

Roserade had a bit of an explorer streak in her, something we could fully bond over, and she hoped her trainer would take a year off at some point within the next few years like Jasmine so they could explore as much of the world as possible. To be honest, if I could… reignite whatever I was lacking during the Byron battle, traveling sounded like a whole lot of fun. I'd sworn that I would do it long ago; it was a dream taken from a man who was now dead. Unfortunately, words were easier than actions.

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

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

Like clockwork, her laptop closed. The expression that met mine was a smile, albeit a polite one.

"Hey. I'm glad you made it," Gardenia said. She stood up and took a few steps toward me.

"Sorry I couldn't go down to get you—""It's fine. I know you're, uh, busy. Roland told me." She looked down at me, her smile never leaving her face. It felt like my skin was being prickled by needles.

"Hm. I've noticed this about you—I told you back at the ceremony, right? You struggle to take compliments, but it looks like apologies are the same."

"Oh."

"When I say I'm sorry, I mean it," she added.

"Don't put yourself down."

"I'll try."

"You don't mind if we stay out here?" she asked, and I shook my head. Gardenia gently grabbed at a large leaf from some plant I didn't know—slightly purple at its edges—and smiled as she smelled the greenery.

"Great. It's the only place I feel truly at ease in; I could work here an entire day and not notice." Her eyes softened a little.

"How did you find the city?" Glancing back, I noticed Roserade had already left, most likely to keep taking care of the plants. Such a garden was most likely a full-time job in and of itself. There was more small talk to be had, and more pleasantries exchanged while Gardenia finished her coffee. This talk did matter; it just wasn't going to be the meat of today's topic and was more of a gateway to what Gardenia really wanted to talk about.

"Maylene's a pretty big fan of this city—though you'd be hard-pressed to figure out a place in Sinnoh she doesn't like," Gardenia said with a short laugh.

"Even Snowpoint." I studied the way she moved, but her body was nearly still save for occasionally bringing her mug to her lips.

"I've been trying to get her to add more greenery to Veilstone, but she's had a lot on her plate lately." There was a short pause, and her eyes flicked up. Here we go.

"She's been a lot happier lately. She's gotten a lot more confident too." I nodded, hands relaxing slightly.

"Yeah, I'm glad she's… finding fulfillment in her job now. Making it her own thing instead of letting her father's abuse influence her." For the first time, there was weakness—no, it wasn't weakness to let your emotions show; this wasn't… a fight like how I'd handled Rood and Mallory. Pain flickered on Gardenia's face for an instant, making her expression sour.

"I should have been there for her," she said.

"It's been tough on all of us, but I should have. Thank you again, Grace." It felt odd to be thanked when I'd been the one to push Maylene over the edge in the first place, like an accolade laced with poison. I took the compliment anyway.

"I—yeah. I guess." My finger twirled around a strand of my hair.

"I really want her to be happy."

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

"Can I show you a plant?"

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

"This is a Castor Bean," Gardenia said, gently touching a leaf.

"It's beautiful, isn't it? But you have to be cautious—it contains one of the most toxic substances in nature—this is what you make ricin from. You wouldn't know it just by looking, though." It looked pretty menacing to me, but I didn't say anything.

"It thrives in the right conditions but can be dangerous if mishandled." She looked over, her expression neutral and head utterly still, but eyes sharp.

"Appearances can sometimes be deceiving." It was… a pretty-looking plant, for sure, but I was more focused on what she was actually trying to say. I rolled my shoulders uncomfortably and pushed my tongue against the roof of my mouth to focus.

"It looks nice. Does it grow in Sinnoh?"

"It doesn't grow in Shinwa at all. It's native to southern Unova—and southern Orre, once upon a time." Her fingers kept touching the red-tinted leaf with enough gentleness and care you'd think she was handling a child.

"You know, despite its danger, the Castor Bean isn't all bad. If you know how to work with it, it produces castor oil. Useful in skin care, hair care, and back in the day before common medicine, it was a widespread anti-inflammatory."

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

"You care for it."

"It took me a while to actually get one, and longer still to decide if I could trust myself to handle it," Gardenia finished, her voice steady but thoughtful.

"When Maylene called me in tears after you ran away, I told her to block you and never speak to you again." My throat felt dry. I hadn't expected her to swing away from the metaphor so quickly.

"It was the right thing to say. I handled that… awfully."

"She was devastated in a way I'd never seen her, and I've known Maymay a while," the Gym Leader added.

"And I'd noticed this a few weeks back, but when she was sobbing over the phone, I thought, 'wow. She must really, really love her to be this heartbroken.' And that's been sitting with me. Percolating in my heart, spinning and spinning like a thought I just can't get rid of." My back straightened, and I grabbed onto my wrist to feel Mimi.

"You're going to be leaving; she's going to be staying. Long-distance is far from impossible, but it's hard. There are going to be challenges—but I suppose I'm circling the point. Do you love her as much as she loves you, or is this just… temporary."

"I do!" I yelled, fist clenching. I was surprised at how offended I'd gotten at the notion that Maylene wasn't important to me. Feeling naked due to my outburst, I made myself small and bit my lip.

"I do," I repeated.

"I want this to last; I'm not using her. I want her to be happy just as much as you do, and we've made plans for the distance, and we talk about things, and—I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologize."

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

"Maymay said you could be snarky. She called it cute." She had? I knew it was the way she felt, but her talking to others about me made my body feel warm. Gardenia stepped toward me and poked my chest.

"That fight you have in you lets me know you do care about her," she added. I was blushing, wasn't I?

"I guess so." Gardenia breathed out another laugh.

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

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

"It's a surprise," she said.

"Tell me about Maymay on the way. She acts completely different with you than she does with us." That? That, I could do. —"What do you see when you look at this trainer?" Gardenia asked. She was playing old footage of her Gym Battles on her television. She had called it her office, but really, it was more of a living space that was also filled with plants, though these were some I recognized as Sinnohan even if I wasn't knowledgeable enough to know their names.

The footage was crisp and clean, netting a far higher quality than what I was used to or what was usually released to the public. This was the second eighth badge battle she was showing me, and each time, rather than focusing on strategy or the Pokemon used, she narrowed her focus to the people. Not that I wasn't looking to the tactics used, either. It was still incredible to me that no fight would be the same. There were far more subtleties to the manipulation of wind from this Pelipper than I'd ever seen.

They managed to speed up their attack to near sound barrier breaking levels through a wind tunnel, all while slowing Gardenia's Shiftry to a crawl amidst the turbulent rain. But that wasn't the focus, nor was it the trap Gardenia had sprung. It was a masterclass in patience; she'd been willing to be behind by two Pokemon to feed confidence like you would give drywood to a fire.

Shiftry seized control of the winds from Pelipper, who was weakened from their previous fight with an Abomasnow, and stole it for themselves to use as a weapon against the remainder of her challenger's team. Shiftry being able to use wind was common sense. One controlling it as well as a flying type to the point of being able to steal it from them, using their own strength against them was not.

"He's nervous, but trying not to be," I said, leaning closer to the screen.

"He's gotten better at hiding it as the battle went on, but he's still clenching his jaw after each order, and there's a little waver in his voice that's grown more noticeable since he fell behind.."

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

"Always go deeper. Figure out why he feels the way he feels."

"It's his first eighth, isn't it?" I asked. He looked a little old, maybe a third year.

"Obviously, he doesn't want to lose."

"A simple but again accurate read on him. You can go deeper. He was a third year," ah, I had been right, "there was pressure mounting on him to actually get to the Conference. Look at the clothes he's wearing; he's sponsored by a sportswear company. This was going to be his last attempt—look at the date." Gardenia pointed to the top right of the screen—it was the final week of May.

"It's the little things that add up to the final answer that 'he doesn't want to lose.'" She crossed her legs, head tilting slightly to the right.

"That's how I get a lot of my challengers. Sandbag the start via setup to make them come into their own. To see who they really are when they think they're winning and confidence returns to them. Then," she slammed a fist into a palm, "you strike. That moment when everything collapses before their very eyes. You seize it and see how they respond to catastrophe." Arceus. She was so cool it was impossible not to make starry eyes at her. Of course, I knew the result of this battle.

The challenger lost and failed to make it to the Conference that year despite his Pokemon being powerful enough to stand their ground. Again, just like in my battle against Byron, it was the trainer who often lagged behind their team.

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

"I hope he goes far." For a good while, we analyzed more footage together, and I got to ask her as many questions as I wanted. This would have been a dream a mere month ago, but here I was, gaining knowledge from Gardenia. She even offered me tea, and it was just as good, if not better than Aliyah's. If I had been in a better mental space, I would have been able to soak up so much more information, but even I got mentally tired eventually. Still, this information would be useful to weave narratives out of nothing.

To either figure out someone's way of thinking, or to trick myself into believing they were feeling something else to carry the story.

"At the end of the day, everyone's different, even if there are some common denominators. People express their emotions differently," she said. That was true enough; Denzel loved to clench his fists when he was nervous, while I bit my tongue or lip sometimes to the point of bruising, and I sweated gallons. Someone else might have also clenched their fists when they were excited, for example.

"There's no real science to it. Sometimes, your reads are wrong, and it bites you in the butt."

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

"Oh, plenty, especially when I was starting out. Less so today, but the rare fuck up does happen. I can always recover and offer a proper challenge." Gardenia offered me a helpful smile.

"Remember, the strategy at play's the important part. Reading someone's body language comes second, even if it's a great help. No need to take needless risks." Ah. I wondered what she'd say if she knew I was reworking my battling style and literally taking a million risks while doing so, especially so close to the Conference—if I even made it there. Gardenia struck me as someone who wouldn't like unknowns or straying from certain conditions she'd set in fights.

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

"Gardenia is fine."

"Oh. Gar—Gardenia," I forced myself to finish the word. How in the world had Virtuous done so well when meeting her for the first time? Nevermind. That question answered itself; she was her, and I was me.

"Say. I have a question," I said. She turned off the television and stretched on her couch, groaning slightly.

"Go ahead."

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

"Those are three questions, but I'll answer anyway." Crap. That was three questions.

"I met Candice pretty early in my journey. In this very city, in fact," she said, a look of fondness on her face.

"And for a while, she was impossible for me to read. I could never tell when she was serious or joking or angry or—anything, really. There was just a veneer of irony around her all the time—and trust me, she used to be worse."

"Worse?" I repeated, disbelieving. Gardenia nodded.

"Worse. It was as irritating as it was captivating. And from there, well…" I could see the shape easily. She'd wanted to get better at figuring people out to break through Candice's walls.

"For as long as I've lived, I've been a fan of grass types," Gardenia continued, her voice carrying a warmth that matched her smile.

"There's a resilience to them, a quiet strength that often goes unnoticed among inexperienced trainers. To them, they're just Pokemon who for the most part are cheap to handle because a portion of their nutrients will come from the sun or the soil—but I'm rambling," she quickly added.

"Let me paint a different picture." There was a short pause, and the sun seemed to radiate off her, casting a soft glow.

"Plants are always the first thing back after a catastrophe," she said, her voice steady.

"No matter how much destruction there is—fires, storms, or rampaging Legendary—plants are the ones that return, quietly reclaiming the land. They rebuild the world without fanfare—it's just so quiet. You see a barren wasteland, and then, almost out of nowhere, a small sprout emerges, and then there's life again. Just look at Orre!" she nearly laughed, a slight glee in her eyes.

"Not even five years after Moltres, plants were growing among the desert and rocks! That's what makes grass types so special. They're a reminder that no matter how hard you're hit, you can always come back stronger than before." A "woah" escaped me, and she laughed again, this time more steadily.

"That's why I joined this Gym as a trainer. I wanted to become the best grass type trainer I could be. Plus, I fell in love with this city." Gardenia looked out the window, her eyes full of love and care.

"There's no place like it." I asked her where she was born, and she surprisingly answered Pastoria—though she'd flown to Jubilife to start her journey in her first year. Floaroma would have just fit so well… I spoke up again, returning to the topic at hand.

"I don't know if I'd be able to stick in one place that long. One country, maybe when my wanderlust's gone. If it ever leaves." Even now, I couldn't shake the anticipation I had to explore a brand new land a whole continent away.

"But years at a time somewhere, always in a Gym? I don't know."

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

"You'll have to figure yourself out. I doubt Maylene has ever given moving or retiring any thought." I fondly smiled.

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

"We'll make it work. Or at least I'll try my damndest to."

"Good." She inhaled.

"Now—" Out of the open window, clouds blotted out the bright sun. A shiver swept through the air, and it thickened until it grew suffocating; Gardenia's eyes sharpened, cutting through the moment that seemed like it would stretch on forever. Her plants writhed around her as one, and despite knowing it must have been a gust of wind or a coincidence, I couldn't help but think she was making them move as one. Each breath grew shallower and shallower as if a vine was slowly constricting around my throat.

For all Gardenia had touted grass types' survivability, they were creatures of slow death. A Tangela striking from behind a bush, sucking the life out of a Bidoof over the course of minutes through a constricting Mega Drain; a Rattata stuck in a Victreebel's acid sack slowly being digested to death; a Leavanny keeping a Cinccino in a bundle of silk to save them for consumption for a later day. It was a terrifying look, a nearly haunting stare that heralded disaster.

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

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

"Nothing at all. I'm just curious, you see." The Gym Leader spoke quietly as she stood up from her couch and stared down at me.

"I've learned a lot about you these past two hours—but I can't help but think… do you have what it takes?"

"What do you mean?"

"I know Maylene loves you, and I know you love her just as much," she continued.

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

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

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

"Grace Pastel, I challenge you to a Pokemon Battle." There was a jolt, a jerk that was so sudden within me it was nearly painful. My heart skipped a beat, then pounded in my chest, a mix of shock and something else—anticipation? Fear? It was hard to tell. I hadn't expected this, not from her. The sun peeked out from behind the cloud, and the room was illuminated in sunlight again. As if on cue, Gardenia's expression brightened with nothing but kindness, and she clapped her hands twice.

"I'll give you twenty minutes to decide. Should you accept my challenge, I will be waiting for you in my arena. Preparations must be made." Before I could even answer— She was gone like the wind. What the fuck had just happened? Twenty minutes? How the hell was I supposed to prepare in so little time. I'd gotten zero ways of studying—no, wait. She'd let me watch her battles with other seven badgers. Had it been just for this moment? Was this why she'd been wearing her Gym Leader outfit?

My eyes widened, and my fingers trembled at the fact that I'd walked into a trap from the moment I'd stepped into Gardenia's Gym. I was now ensnared within her grasp, and there was nothing I could do. Did I have enough information? Even two hours wasn't enough to know the ins and outs of Gardenia's Pokemon or the person herself. If I said no, would she disapprove of me dating Maylene? If I said no, would my flame be extinguished and never return? If I said no, would I— Enough!

My breathing sped up in line with my racing thoughts, and I placed a hand over my clamoring heart. I could hear my blood rushing in my ears, feel it pulsing down my arms with each beat against my bones. The challenge was made. Now, I needed to either accept or run with my tail between my legs. The latter was not an option. Not with so many risks involved. Time was quickly running out.

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

"I have to accept," I said as Angel caressed my head with a clump of vines.

"But our planning's all gone to waste. It's—it's what I'm good at. Maybe the only thing I'm good at outside of killing!" I bit my lip to keep quiet. It wouldn't do to have someone overhear through the door.

"Do I even stand a chance? This is Gardenia we're talking about." Princess hopped closer to me and patted my side with her fluffy wing, saying that they were with me no matter what. Sunshine grunted out that it was now or never. That I would get all depressed again if I refused, and it screwed up everything. Buddy followed by saying better a loss to Gardenia than that again as he hovered closer, but the dragon growled at his defeatist attitude. Who said we would lose? he said, planting a heated foot on the ground.

Sweetheart grinned, her tail swaying from side to side and nearly hitting Honey in the leg. The electric type nodded at me with a silent look of approval, and wherever the team went, Cassianus followed most of the time, still. Angel wrapped all of us in a tight hug. We had to do this. Together. I sucked in a sharp breath.

"We need a new thread to spin," I whispered.

"A new story to tell—no, wait. Not completely new. I can do this. I can make it work." If there was one thing I was good at doing, it was tricking my own brain into believing something else. After two minutes of brainstorming in silence—"I have it." A maddened smile stretched across my mouth.

"I'm recalling all of you. Be ready for a fight the next time you're out—I don't know who I'll be picking yet; it depends on how the story's going. I have to rush to the waiting room to get into the right mindset." They responded with their own noises of approval. Growls, squeals, whistles, grunts, whirs, et cetera. Even a celebratory chime from Cass and a little dance from Mimi. They all disappeared, melting into a red light as their Pokeball absorbed their essence. Everything I had come up with to beat Byron.

Plans and a narrative burned to smithereens, ground to dust, and thrown into the winds, and for what? For a single chance at redeeming my sense of self. Okay. Okay. Yes. This was an— — Ambush. Across me stretched an endless expanse of verdant green as far as the eye could see. The grass swayed like a whisper in the wind, a hypnotic motion that had captured my attention for as long as I could remember.

The sun above me was scorching, a blasting heat that warmed everything it touched, yet the ground below was cold and hard. I remembered now, how I had stayed here since my spirit had been smothered and how I had vowed to remain here for the remainder of my puny little life.

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

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

This Adventurer had come all the way here to find me. To lay a trap—an ambush to catch me off-guard and see what I was worth. And oh, how the once brightened light had dimmed; how the mighty all-encompassing thirst for battle had fallen. Running was an option; when was it not? All this time, I had run away from responsibility, but I owed it to the select few who knew the truth of me to try.

The Pokeball felt alien in my hand, not because of its shape or function, but because of the now unfamiliar intent that filled my heart. I tried to muster up a grin, and it didn't quite reach my eyes. I wanted this once. Yearned for it. There was something familiar about this ambusher, a need to reignite myself for her and everyone else I cared about. My hand tightened around the ball, its smooth surface cold against my skin.

"Fine," I said, my voice a ghost of what it had once been—a decrepit whisper that rasped against my throat.

"Don't be disappointed." Lethargically, I pointed the device at the field and allowed my first Pokemon out of his ball. With silence, I released my Jellicent, and with a deathly silence, he answered in turn. Like forgotten memory, he hovered a few inches off the ground with a transparency that made it feel like he wasn't even there. Plants and grass near him froze, withered and died as if he rejected the very world of the living.

Mist coiled around him, thick and carried by purple wind and distortion from another land where souls went to die.

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

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

I glanced away from the Pokemon with a glare, realizing she had been the Scout to find me here among the endless prairie. Without a signal, seeds exploded out of the Scout, all uniform and carried by the green-hued winds. They were white and fluffy, almost like Dandruff, and they began littering every inch of the field. Trap, I instantly knew, yet mine Reflection's reaction was one borne of reluctance. With a sigh that seemed to warp the spirits around him, his body turned to ice, and not with a moment to spare.

Seeds around him bounced off or froze before they could sprout and take hold. The mist was still rolling upon the field as my challenger pointed forward, her cape billowing behind her— Arceus, damn it, she was so cool— no. Don't fucking break character! She pointed forth and ordered a Cotton Spore and a Sunny Day; quicker than I could blink, the rays intensified, yet were still a gentle warmth perfect for plants to grow in.

Seeds around Jellicent beyond his aura of death and cold sprung to activity, erupting in— A continuous explosion. They swelled with the fire of life beneath them and burst, spreading more seeds that exploded in turn. Chunks of Jellicent's frozen form went flying, but right from beyond the mist came a scream of agonizing death. Night Shade after Night Shade rushed forth, forcing the Scout to redirect itself upward with the wind as they exploded, bruising the grass type slightly. With a bit of luck, they'd have run.

Too bad we were anything but lucky. They had traveled too long, gone too far to find me to give up now.

"Water and Freeze," I whispered. We would fight at a distance. Still just as sluggish, just as slow, water surged out of every crack formed on my Reflection's surface by the explosions from the Cotton. My opponent called out to her Scout, and the seeds around Jellicent turned poisonous and exploded in purple, roiling smoke. Somehow, even through the thick mist, they knew where we were; they must have been using the cotton seeds to keep track.

Still vapid but undeterred, I watched as countless gallons formed up in rotating walls around Jellicent, each a thickened barrier of ice. Just like I, he would reject the outside world and refuse to move. Instead, he sent out more clones to do his bidding. It was easier to shut out the outside world than to take a step out and allow the flying ball of cotton to take hold. I could see it within the mist.

The field was overlapped with each Pokemon's influence—the limitless seeds our opponent could call upon that had disseminated to every corner, and the spirits who had spread among the fog. From the vapor, water could be called upon, forming ice around the Scout. Lances of ice that they could not melt, icy rain that pierced through her body, beams that arced toward her in awkward angles. It was difficult to tell exactly how many Night Shades Jellicent had called upon.

He had, after all, broken past the limit of two weeks—long ago. Don't break character. You've been here since time immemorial. However; The Scout brought with it unbridled joy and whimsy that seemed to make the ghosts under my Reflection's dominion cower in fear. Instead of fearing the pale beyond, she laughed and laughed and laughed, leaving trails of explosions in her wake as a concentrated Tailwind hastened her to speeds that warped the air around her.

Directly above Jellicent's unmoving body, his form surrounded by rotating walls of ice, the grass type glowered with the power of the sun above, its glow like an angel's halo behind her. Light unyielding, it bore down on us like a hammer, parting the mist in a column below, shattering our five ice walls, and tearing through the earth. The stalking shadows wavered as their master was left a broken pile of liquid and vapor among the smoldering crater, but we were not down for the count.

Greedily, Jellicent found within himself an idea—not the will to fight, to show this challenger that we were worthy of our reputation, but the will to survive. We had, after all, lasted this long through every trial, every wound, every shattering.

"Dissipate," I muttered. And thus, he fizzled out into vapor. Yet the Adventurer—she smiled, her gaze intense—would not let Jellicent escape and recover through the ambient mist that remained. She swiftly ordered for her Pokemon to intensify her Tailwind, and it turned green with the essence of life that choked out the spirits that had haunted our mist for so long. They rasped in agony, each scream reverberating across these endless plains.

This technique was unknown to me, but I figured out soon enough that it was destroying Jellicent even though he was disembodied into vapor. But here lay the truth of it; Gone from eyesight, he was, but he had not moved. Because how could he? Jellicent was my Reflection, and tiredness had seeped into my very bones. The green wind sparkled with energy stolen by the Scout, and life bloomed where it had died around Jellicent, even within the smoking crater.

Flowers of every creed and color bloomed, vines slithered on the earth, cotton was born and once more erupted in a cacophony of explosions.

"Don't count us out," I said.

"Mass Freeze." The remaining mist liquefied in an instant; water froze in the air. Enough to fill a lake, enough to drown our problems and sorrows under the weight of frigid waters. How dare this little puny blue thing look at us like this? How dare she laugh as the world around her became encased in ice and her very innards threatened to freeze solid? How dare she push onward despite our attempt to stop her in her tracks?

Through determination, she fought the world itself, frozen, crackling, and groaning like a slowly shifting glacier, weaving thick, warmed pollen around her like a coat. Palm facing upward, I closed my fist and clenched, almost willing for the ice to crush her into entropic paste. Spirits rallied into shades, spitting clumps of Acid at Jumpluff in hopes of destroying her Cotton Guard, but just like everything else, it was all for naught. Mist dissipated.

Shades wailed as they shriveled up and ran back into Distortion. Jellicent reappeared, a tiny pond among the flowers on the ground. The Scout heaved for air—I could still see her breath in the quickly-dissipating cold, each one labored and tired as frost flaked off her—and spat out a Bullet Seed at the ghost-turned-puddle. He did not go down with a bang, but with the most pathetic of whimpers—the only sound he had made this entire fight. He had, however, not left without a trace.

Behind him, the air was still, and a hollow cavern of frozen ice remained, etched into the otherwise flowery landscape like a scar and using the plant-covered crater as a base. Life refused to take root here as if it had been warded with a curse. It was thin, yet open on both sides of the field; entrances faced both I and our Challenger. His sculpting training with Princess had paid off—"Jellicent is unable to battle! Challenger, send out—" Gah! Cut the referee out of mind; he didn't exist! Focus. Focus!

Deep breaths. For the first time, I faced my challenger—this Adventurer. Her hair burned like the sun; her clothes were green like nature; she was the herald of change, whereas I was stuck and forever immutable. There was, however, the tiniest of embers. Warmth on my hip, not eager to get out, but not crippled as my Reflection had been. Was now… no, it wasn't. But was it? I unclasped the Pokeball from my belt and stared down at the bumps and crevices in the metal, a knot forming in my stomach.

He would perhaps not be ready, but a fire needed time to get going. Hesitantly, hesitantly, I let out Turtonator into the ice cavern. Here, he would be shielded from these life-giving winds carrying seeds, but more importantly— If my fair Jellicent had been my outer Reflection, my flesh, skin, bones, and thoughts, then Turtonator was my Soul within. The empty furnace left barren without even embers to keep it warm.

He did not announce his presence with a roar or a sky-bound Flamethrower, but with a deep growl that reverberated all over his hollow chamber. His shell glowered with a dull red instead of our vibrant blue that would wipe anything close to him clean. He had been asleep for longer than we could remember, lying on his stomach with his tail curled up. Yet just like every time action was demanded of us, every time we had to fight, The dragon stood.

With a hasty command, our challenger ordered her Scout to float away, up and up through the fading mist that was now but a thin, see-through veil. A sad smile stretched upon my lips, for I knew it meant she had heard great histories of my dear sun. Yet no great fire came, nor did we snatch their Sunny Day and turn the world into an unlivable hell. The following words came out smoothly.

"Rock Tomb, Dragon Pulse." Heavy steps followed, each one just as slow as the last as the Adventurer asked for the grass type to swap the winds from grass to fairy. With a ripple across the air, it turned pink and intensified around Turtonator, who had to take a step out of his cave to attack. From the earth rose countless rocks that flew upward with flowers still attached to them. I could see it in the woman's eyes, how she expected me to spring a trap. Would the rocks explode in great works of flame and ash?

Would we superheat them until the air itself caught ablaze? The seeds remaining across these rocks turned to great thorny vines that squeezed and crushed many of them as they made their journey upward, and the Scout kept flying back— However.

"Flash Cannon." It was but a distraction. A bright light gathered on the dragon's snout before turning pinpoint, their essence tearing through the very wind that had kept battering us. With a tired sigh, my Soul sent it flying—it cut through the air like a knife, its light spreading so quickly the already-tired Scout had scant time to dodge. With an upward swing, it streaked across the flying type's body and cotton balls, causing her to scream with an ear-shaking shriek.

The rocks that were still in the sky, albeit falling, landed all across the field with loud crashes. Unsettled, the Adventurer told her Scout to use Stun Spore. She hadn't before because she thought we'd just burn them anyway, but she'd seen through us now. A heap of yellow spores exploded around Jumpluff and were carried directly toward the ice cave by their Fairy Wind. These spores were thick, clinging together as they gathered momentum, swirling in the breeze like tiny soldiers on a march.

Turtonator shot me a look. My instincts as a trainer and his as an expert battler were screaming something else. I shut him down with my vapid stare and a head nudge. There was an advantage to this, even if— Shut up. Keep your head in the game.

"Smokescreen and Smog," I added. The following Flash Cannon did not need to be said. Darkened, poisonous ash roiled throughout his cavern. This was an old trap of his he had sprung on us many times while training when he had first joined the team. Just then, spores entered the Smog. It was my hope that most of them would degenerate from the poison. But more importantly. This attack. It was important; it was memory; it was warm.

There was a warning from Garde—from the Adventurer, but her Scout could no longer absorb as much energy from us through the wind, not that we had anything left to give. They were on their last legs. Another light, the tiniest of points, came to life within the ashes, and then once again sliced through the air. This one singed the grass type, who was a smoking mess as the woman recalled her before she could hit the earth below.

The smog cleared, and beyond the sluggish, half-paralyzed movements, I noticed that my Soul was glowing just a little brighter, exuding just a little more heat, standing just a little taller. My breath hitched in my throat as our challenger considered her options. That Flash Cannon had been warmer than it should have been. What followed was— A living continent. Massive in size, large enough to make each of her movements shake the very foundations of the earth.

She was so large, in fact, that she was covered in moss and plants and spiky rocks and a massive tree. Torterra, the woman called her, and for a moment, memories of Harry Rodriguez flashed in my mind. The urge to let the story go to waste and to order a killing blow was only a passing one, but it was an urge nonetheless.

"Dragon Pulse—" The adventurer interrupted me with an order of her own, her voice dominant enough to overtake every inch of the field. I took a step back as seeds from Jumpluff still floating around the field, landed on the Guardian's back and bloomed into a set of brown flowers covering her entire shell, drawing nourishment from the fertile land beneath. The large, earthy, brown petals began to pulse with energy like a long-held breath as they curved inward and rotated toward our cavern—"Retreat," I corrected.

"Retreat and Iron Defense." Gardenia grinned, and the world exploded. In perfect unison, each flower released an earthy blast of mud and life. The field seemed to sing in harmony with the strike, surrendering all it had to fuel the Guardian's attack. The dragon glimmered with the power of steel as he retreated into his shell, and the blast slammed into his cavern. It rended the ice into a million pieces, shattering it like a broken mirror with strength that rattled the barrier in front of me.

This Torterra, I realized, was ancient. She had labored in nature's service for so long that the earth itself answered her call, giving everything it had to power her attack, a testament to the deep connection she shared with the world beneath her feet. From the broken world above him, my Soul rose, each movement sluggish. He had been buried in ice and mud, the latter of which clung to his scales like a cancer.

He had turned around and retreated into his shell to resist much of the damage, but it was slightly damaged. Swirling turquoise energy peppered by heat swirled around his snout, the birth of a Dragon Pulse, but Gardenia ordered a world-shattering Earthquake, and the world held its breath. The blast of draconic energy hit the grass type head-on, but all it got us was a pained grunt—she did not even waver nor slow her attack.

The Guardian pushed herself off, standing on her two hind legs, and when she landed, she showed us the meaning of power. The moment her massive limbs struck the ground, the world beneath us heaved and groaned, as if the very bones of the planet were shattering beneath her weight. What followed was not a mere tremor but a cataclysmic upheaval—a rolling, thunderous quake that surged outward in violent ripples as if the earth had liquefied. I recalled Turtonator before it could reach him.

It would, after all, not do me any good to witness my Soul fall in battle. What surprised me was that the rending of the earth did not destroy it, but bring about more life. Yes, it had been upturned; plants and trees had been ripped apart, but following the Earthquake came a veritable wave of flowers. Again, the seeds from Jumpluff served their purpose, and there were so many still multiplying I feared they would never run out. My eyes scanned the field for a moment.

There were still rocks from my Soul about the plains, though a lot of them had been shattered by the earthquake; the flowers atop the Guardian had all wilted and fallen. There were really two options here that would not bleed into the narrative, and who would be able to take down this Torterra—no, I was thinking far too narrowly. A story was not a straightforward affair but a river with twists and turns. Have faith in your team; see where it takes you.

There was one particular aspect of myself whom I could follow with. My Soul was not ready to be reignited yet, so perhaps… You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. A little faster this time—just a little faster—I sent Claydol out of their Pokeball. The psychic beeped, their eyes constantly blinking as they scanned the field below them. Their turrets were reclined in on their body, waiting for a call to action, and whenever they weren't blinking, their eyes were half-closed.

One look at their opponent, and there was an understanding between us. Yes, I thought with a heavy heart. For Sacrifice was Claydol, and Claydol was Sacrifice. A desire to fulfill their duty as strong as unbending steel, whether that be protecting me or fighting to keep us alive. Harm and death might cast their ominous shadows in our path, but they would always see things through. Our challenger shot us a curious look—she must have expected us to respond with something else, like Togekiss or Tyranitar.

Those who would be able to go toe-to-toe with the Guardian she had unleashed upon us. What we needed, however, was control. And while Sacrifice still was not an offensive powerhouse like my other aspects, they were no longer a pushover. The Adventurer bellowed out an order with a grin, and leaves and flowers and moss and plants and grass and dirt peeled off the Guardian's body and the ground, carried by winds only slightly weaker than Jumpluff's had been.

The Leaf Storm was deafening, a careening dissonance that made my head feel like it was spinning. The vibrant greens and earthy browns spiraled upward in a chaotic dance, an orchestra of nature at the Guardian's beck and call. I bit my lip.

"Go forward and Wide Guard." Before the words were even out of my mouth, a transparent point of pink light materialized in front of Claydol, then spread as they molded the psychic shape into a wide screen. They slowed in the air when the storm hit them; the winds and objects it carried repeatedly slammed against the wall with a grinding screech, like nails scratching against a chalkboard. It tilted, cracked, wailed under the strain. But it held.

Growth, the Adventurer ordered, but with a snap-order, I had Claydol summon a Sandstorm to mask the sun and slow the Guardian's recovery. Leaf Storm took a lot out of a user, and now that we were in range, it was our time to strike. To pull them down with us and allow apathy to seize their soul. Where Claydol lacked in power, they made up for it in finesse. Sands roared, thick enough for me to only make out the two Pokemon because one's eyes were glowing and the other's body was doing the same.

"Imprison and send them down," I said. What was this I was feeling? This nascent tingle, this need to pull through no matter what? Better bury it like we were going to bury this living island.

"Make them a tomb." Four transparent walls appeared around Torterra where the Sandstorm grew at its most intense, not to harm, but to obscure vision and to snatch the sun away from her. Wood Hammer, our challenger called out, and the grass type's tree grew, grew and grew until it broke against the barrier and splintered it.

We were blessed with the fact that it took a lot more to make a Wood Hammer or an Earthquake than an Imprison and our enemy was slow, so we trapped them again and again as the earth below them shifted into Scorching Sands. They had power, but we had control over their own element until the Guardian was half buried in her grave and— Wait. Wait, wait, wait. Obscured by a grave of our own making, the Guardian was changing.

Beneath her dense, gnarled, and scorched bark, bulging muscles rippled to life, swelling with nature's song. The roots in the earth. It must have been less efficient than the sun, but it worked regardless. Growth, Bulk Up, Synthesis, a triumvirate of techniques meant to hold on. They would not go down easily. Nature, as I'd come to learn, was a resilient beast. The next order cut through the whispering, contained Sandstorm, and made my eyes widen in shock. Wood creaked with every movement, and the Guardian jumped.

How? They had been rendered immobile, but they tore through the churning superheated sands and soared through the air, smashing into our Imprison with Superpower. She soared into the air, leaving a trail of rock, mud, and plants behind her. Taken aback, Sacrifice whirred, and beneath them, a pillar of stone rose within an instant. It hammered on the Guardian's stomach but broke against her body —a hastily erected barrier came next, and it too, broke apart under the weight and strain of the grass type's charge. Ah.

I saw it then, as wood hurled itself against clay at speeds that should have been unheard of for her species. As six eyes closed and attempted to assault the Guardian's mind with Psychic as a last-ditch effort to stay afloat, all of that for naught. The adventurer and her party… it was about pushing themselves beyond the possible. One blow, and Sacrifice went flying, rolling onto the ground like a spinning top when they landed.

The Guardian attempted to carry her momentum, though she tripped the moment she started running. Superpower had put a lot of strain on her body, which meant time for us.

"Imprison and Earth Power." Could they do it again? That was the question. Another set of walls encased the Guardian, albeit slower this time due to the sheer amount of damage Superpower had done. Claydol's body was almost falling apart; the structure was caved in, its form grotesquely warped in a way that said they shouldn't even have been able to function. My eyes glanced at the orange-haired lady, and I suppressed whatever feeling made the hair on my arms stand on edge.

Maybe we had learned from her, just a little bit. Concentrated within the relatively tiny space, the ground below Torterra pulsed with a menacing hum, then bulged outward, then the earth itself came alive with a superheated geyser. The Guardian groaned, but alas, there was a reason we had not done this in the first place. Our offensive power was still lacking when it needed to take out bulky Pokemon like Torterra.

So much so that the Guardian could sustain herself through much of the damage; I could see her form healing through the burning earth. It came as no surprise when the Imprison broke apart once again, and although no other Superpower came, the Leaf Storm was still a threat due to the constant Growth the grass type was undergoing. It surged with a fury that defied nature, a twisting, howling vortex of razor-sharp leaves that tore through everything it touched.

It swallowed up Sacrifice, chewing them and spitting them out like one of the many rocks the storm carried. Eyes flickered on and off, and my heart jumped in my throat when they all converged toward me. Their voice was a distorted mess—a high-pitched warble that crackled with static—yet I heard their following words cut through the crisp air around me.

"Grace. Have you not given enough? Do you not want more than this?" I blinked, eyes rapidly fluttering as the world seemed a little… not brighter, but more authentic. Like the transparency around it that had gripped even Jellicent was gone. Were they right? Had I given enough? I'd nearly forgotten what it was like. The endless toil of a terrified girl being shoved around by her own people in hopes that she was the answer to the world being under threat.

What else could I do but accept, when my refusal might mean everything I had known and would ever know would end? And so you threw yourself under the weight of duty, forgetting to take care of anything else. In other words, you gave. You gave, gave, gave, gave, gave, and gave, and it was never enough. Maybe it was time to take. She was a hulking, shifting mass of stone platings, each one more immutable than the last.

She towered over even Torterra, rolling her shoulders as she smothered a grin and instead flashed her sharp teeth with a cold, almost unseeable anger. Her form radiated a raw, oppressive power—the kind that could crush small hills underfoot. She was Tyranitar, and she was the all-consuming Desire to be better.

I want to be kind I want people to sing my name I want to be strong enough to be safe forever I want to never worry about money I want to trust myself with my powers I want to be forgiven I want to be loved I want to remember how to have fun I want this I want that I want EVERYTHING. But did I deserve it? Desire made herself tall, and my body shivered. The Adventurer stared back pensively, but allowed the Guardian to stand her ground.

Earthquake, she bellowed, and once again, the world held its breath as the grass type pushed herself up on her hind legs with strength she had accessed through the soil. Grains of darkened sands slipped out of Tyranitar's vents, slowly at first, and then a deluge of void and silence tore through the world, swarming the Guardian just as she landed and broke the earth below her. The plains rippled, shattered, and glowered with energy summoned through the soil and a mighty roar.

Desire's plates took on a metallic sheen, but she kept trudging forward, her steps muffled by the darkened sandstorm until the Earthquake hit her. There was nothing but a tiny wince—she stood her ground, her feet planted firmly in the ground as the earth shifted around her and let out muffled screams as if the terrain itself could wail in agony.

"Stone Edge." There had been rocks spread around through both Claydol and Turtonator, and she would put them to use. They were broken shards, yet she brought them together and created enormous pillars of sharpened stones that she sent barrelling toward Torterra. Her bark softened by Superpower, they easily dug into her and made her bleed, the dark red creating a heavy contrast with the darkened sands. The Guardian was dizzied and distracted by pain she was unfamiliar with; now was the time to strike.

"Rock Polish," I followed suit, my voice cutting through the storm, "and Ice Fang." Desire's movements sharpened, her steps growing quicker and aided by the occasional expulsion of sand behind her, each greedy stride devouring the distance between her and her opponent. Mist formed around her fangs as soon as they opened, and the rock type slammed into the Guardian with a roar that was swallowed up by the storm.

One could not hear the huntress thrashing against the Torterra, the hush of the wind drowning out the sounds of heavy plating meeting flesh and bone, but they could see her. Her claws gouged into the Guardian's massive shell with savage force, cracking stone and uprooting bark with each strike. Her fangs, now jagged and frostbitten, sank deep into Torterra's side, tearing through layers of bark and flesh in a violent flurry.

The Guardian fought back, limbs smashing the earth in desperate retaliation, calling upon nature to come to her aid, but Desire was relentless—slamming, biting, slashing, each strike eerily silent. The fight was brutal. Primal. Her movements efficient as her teeth found the walking continent's throat and tightened. Yes, I thought as her movements grew more and more joyous. As she grinned after each blow, be it dealt or taken.

She wanted to fight, to feel the blood pumping in her veins, to feel the pain every time she was hit, to taste the blood in her mouth after a triumph. The heat of battle. I could feel it, too—her exhilaration coursing through me like a fire desperate to start; she was me, and I was her, Desire intertwined. The Guardian fell limp against the ground, her body battered, gouged and bloodied in a way that made the Adventurer wince. She did not even have to wait to allow out her next Pokemon.

The decision was nearly instantaneous; she released the mass of metal further away, a clear sign of respect. He was a ball of spikes and death with eyes so sinister you would think he had come here to kill us and destroy all we loved. Had he come to take away nascent desire, to smother our fire in its crib? This steel type, this Ferrothorn, this Blackguard; he pushed himself up, balancing himself on balls of spikes that could easily navigate the broken terrain.

Leech Seed, Gardenia called out, and I hunched over, the Embers already snuffed out at the idea that someone would look at me like the Blackguard. Like he knew my long list of sins, and he would pick them out and read them out to me one by one. Yet, Desire fought. The Tyranitar blasted the little seeds out of the air with her storm, scattering them to the winds so we wouldn't have to worry. My challenger frowned for a moment, and then called out for a Gyro Ball.

Going in close after having attempted to fight at a distance? Desperate to shake off my nerves, I looked to the future. The Scout had seeded these rolling plains with life, and the Guardian had used and replenished it in an endless cycle of withering, death, and rebirth. The ground was upturned, messy, and unorderly, like someone had thrown as many colors as they could onto a blank canvas.

Where there was life, there would be water—not in the already-ruined lakes that had been present at the start of the battle, but within the confines of the earth.

"Ride," I ordered, surprised at the loudness of my own voice. There was a rumble below the ground, and then water took to the surface, flooding these lands and turning them into a shallow bog. The closer the Blackguard got to us, each step calculated to be as efficient as possible, the more agitated it got. Desire kicked the wet mud, summoning beneath her an enormous slab of stone.

She gathered the remaining fragments from her predecessors she could find around her, and then— Water swept her forward, her momentum just as powerful as the Blackguard's Gyroball. For a brief moment, she faltered, slipping in the rush of momentum; my heart stuttered in time with the misstep, and the steel type threw himself into a spin faster and fiercer than even the gaze burning in his dark eyes, turning him into a whirlwind of metal and malice.

Around him, a disc of searing light began to form—a luminous, deadly ring, the beginnings of a Flash Cannon that whirled like a saw blade. The light grew, expanding with every rotation until it became a shining edge that extended far beyond the steel type's form. It cut through the battlefield like a scythe, evaporating water, slicing through Tyranitar's towering stone as though it were nothing but paper, the echo of shattering rock resounding in the air.

The light scraped against her plates, screeching as metal met stone, sparks erupting in a brilliant, furious display. And so, Desire and Blackguard clashed like two mountains crashing into each other. It was much the same story that had befallen the Guardian, but our opponent this time was more equipped to deal with physical hits.

Each clang that made its way through the darkened storm seemed to reinforce the idea that he was a solid wall, and while his Power Whips failed to do anything but crack my Desire's armor at best, the Leech Seed he had finally managed to attach to her was pulling its own weight— Wait. Was it? I squinted, eyes struggling to parse through the details of the two's obscured surroundings, but that Leech Seed was not up to par with what I'd come to expect from such a magnificent grass type trainer.

Instead, it seemed sluggish, the tendrils that sprouted from them nearly anemic relative to the previous ones. No matter; there was no time to think. Another Flash Cannon buried itself deep in Tyranitar's chest, knocking the air out of her lungs. Her eyes widened, and I ordered her to pull away the Blackguard's feelers. The first one, she got immediately and threw away, but the orange-haired woman barked out another order, and Acid burst out of Ferrothorn in waves.

It did not do much, but the drops that slipped through the cracks made Desire screech and attempt to pull the second vine off the steel type's body. But then, something clicked.

"No!" I yelled. Yelled. Yelled. That was what they'd been waiting for—an opening. The rock type leaned in, claw wrapping around the Ferrothorn's feeler, but— wait, she was listening. Barely, just barely, Desire unlatched herself from the Blackguard, making the coming Revenge attached to the third and final spike ball barely scrape her.

"Now use Flamethrower!" I added. Flames began to coil and writhe in her ever widening maw, a lighthouse within the darkness that flickered in and out. The air around her turned hazy with the sheer heat she brought forth, and the fire escaped in a single, furious torrent that swallowed up the Blackguard. An endless stream of golden flames that vaporized the water ten feet around her.

Beyond the fact that I had used a fire type move, beyond the fact that I had screamed in the heat of battle, beyond the fact that there were embers in my hearth— This Pokemon. I knew him. He was a faded memory, a person I couldn't place, yet I knew I had seen beforehand. The Blackguard did not fall with a single Flamethrower, no, and I could not bring myself to utter any more words, but they kept clashing, impenetrable stone plate against sturdy steel hide, mountain against the toughest of roots.

Desire, too, could not allow fire to run amock again—that little rascal sometimes got too excited and had to catch herself a split-second from another Flamethrower that made both our opponents flinch. In these moments, it felt like I had stepped out onto the world naked—exposed and vulnerable, as if my skin had been scraped raw. I had allowed the challenger to goad me, to nearly reignite me, to make me smile. It was terrifying; I wanted it gone. I wanted it gone, gone, gone, gone.

Blackguard collapsed against the swamp we'd created, only a stump remaining where one of its stems had once been. I could not help but notice how… alone Ferrothorn had been. His strategy lacked the seamless integration one would expect from a well-coordinated party. This made sense, given his Name. Blackguard was a solitary figure, a loner who only allied himself with the others in moments of desperation, otherwise preferring to forge his own path. Yes.

Giving it more thought, this was in line with everything I had foreseen. Sweetheart was tired and wounded. She had been poisoned, battered by light and by vines. The knowledge that we could have won easier with Flamethrower than without weighed heavy on her—I could tell, but it wasn't like the Adventurer would have just let it happen. Strategically speaking, catching her by surprise had been correct. Through heavy breaths that mirrored her own, I sagged against my knees and sighed in relief.

I'd flown too close to the sun; it would be better to retreat into my cold, darkened cave. In fact— Fingers cold against my pants, I ordered her to make a cave as our Challenger sped up her decision-making. It was nowhere as sophisticated as my Reflection, but— From the depths of the bog, she emerged—a graceful specter cloaked in vibrant hues, a haunting vision against the backdrop of a dwindling storm.

The air shimmered with her ethereal presence, two brilliant splashes of color piercing through the haze: one blue as the endless ocean, the other red like the birth of a raging fire. My throat tightened as she opened her eyes, and nature itself sang her name, for she had traveled countless miles, endless stretches of land that never ended.

Roserade the Explorer, they beckoned her, and she answered in turn with a bow as the sun somehow intensified brightly enough to pierce through the Dark Sandstorm, and rain started to pour by the gallons. Desire demanded the use of Flamethrower.

"No," I answered. She asked again.

"No," I answered.

"Sit still, do not dare try to bite off more than you can chew. Fire is danger, and danger is terrifying," I said with shuddering breaths. Then, she lashed out. Would you let your, their, our sacrifices be for nothing? she yelled at me—though a laugh nearly slipped out of her— Would you— Too late.

"Rose! Let rain and the sun befall them!" the Adventurer yelled with a laugh. Her voice resonated like a songstress's, rich and deep, weaving through the chaos like a melodic thread in a tapestry of sound. It was my first time actually hearing it instead of processing it, and it made my soul nearly jump out of my skin. No, no, no. The artificial sun intensified, as did the light of the actual sun, bearing down on us at temperatures more fit for a fire type than a grass one.

At the same time, rain slammed into the earth, yet it did not flood. The ground itself greedily drank the liquid, using it to grow even more flowers than the Scout had wrought. This, I recognized easily, was Life Dew pushed to its absolute apex and mixed in with the rain. You could not even see the grass—it was as if each drop of rain summoned forth a bud of its own.

On Desire as well, plants began to overtake her—they wrapped around her—they caused her pain by prickling her wounds and growing on her flesh—they drained her energy—they poisoned her—paralyzed her—made her drowsy—slowed her— I got it. I was not fighting a force of nature, but nature itself.

"Fight back!" I tried. Sweat trickled down my skin. I was ready to want, now.

"Flamethrower!" Though the plants smothered her grin and started growing inside her mouth, the rain rendered them so weak that they barely burned and fizzled out by the time they reached the Explorer. Earthquake! I tried next, and upon a bed of flowers, the poison type jumped as if she'd reached a trampoline and spun in the air.

Upside down, she aimed both her bouquets toward Tyranitar as the earth split below her—nature and grass fought back to mend the gash—and the sun boomed in intensity, lowering in height until it only hovered thirty feet off the ground, and rain turned to a roaring storm. Light of every color unfurled amidst the vapor rising from the searing heat, a kaleidoscope of hues that danced and shimmered with the Explorer's ambition and nature's call.

Each color sang its own note in the symphony of life: rich emeralds and deep sapphires intertwined with fiery oranges and passionate reds, creating a breathtaking mosaic that celebrated the beauty of His creation. Life. The laser surged forward, a manifestation of nature's exuberance as it dispelled all that would bring darkness to His realm. Grains of darkened sands fell lifeless to the ground and were taken below by the earth, and light swallowed the dark. One last effort.

Walls of earth rose up in front of her, one, three, five layers of thickened rock while draconic energy charged within her mouth. They were all blown away, each taking the blast just a little longer, but all for naught. The sound of the impact was deafening, causing my hearing aid to crackle with a high-pitched ring that made me wince. How grand for a blast that signified hope to be so deadly. Desire staggered, the sheer brilliance forcing her to momentarily shield her eyes as life washed over her scales.

She did not budge an inch, standing her ground, but what remained was a body overwhelmed by plantlife—enough of it not to see where the Tyranitar began and ended. In her mouth, eyes, nostrils, under her claws, within her vents. Desire lost consciousness standing. Holy fuck, I wanted to say, but I stayed quiet. That was—it had not been planned, but it was perfect. I recalled her and cracked each of my fingers with a satisfying pop. Roserade looked tired as well, though nowhere near done.

It felt as if that was an ultimate attack of some sort, something they had workshopped for years and perfected as time went on. Within my mind, an idea was born, overtaking every other notion until there was nothing left but a single, burning question. Was my Soul ready? This was not a tactical question, though the rest within his ball would have done him some good, and the sun was low and intense enough to fuel him. It was a question concerning my inner self, and by the Legendaries, endless doubt clouded my mind.

Yet, Sacrifice had asked me if I had not given enough, and Desire had berated me for letting everything be for nothing, as if to ask what it was all for? His Pokeball was just a little warmer. Three left each. I sent him out, again within the confines of his 'cave'—calling it that was doing Tyranitar a favor, it was more two parallel walls and a scuffed overhang than anything else, but she had done her job. While the walls were covered in plants, what lay inside was still…

well, not lifeless, for the Explorer's reach extended far, but far less dense. I raised two fingers as soon as he looked back at me, and he sighed, rolling his shoulders as a dull heat exuded from his scales. Dull, but heat nonetheless. Everything was so calm after such a display of skill by the Explorer. All I could hear was the rain pattering against the wet mud and the flower petals.

"This is her Roserade," I warned. He took one look at her and glared as she began to move, opting to fight at a close range at her trainer's discretion. At the same time, the sun rose higher again, ensuring that it would stay hidden behind the rain clouds. Fire surged from his snout; a dull red turned to an intense orange. He took a step outside the 'cave,' and water simmered on his back, turning into vapor. None but the sturdiest of flowers could stick to his body. I sucked in moist air through my teeth.

"Don't let her come to you. Fire Pillar." With a deep, guttural growl from deep within his chest, my Soul wielded the power of fire. Beats of warmth coincided with each burning spire that rose from the earth, leaving behind nothing but a smoldering hole the rain rapidly filled in and seeded once again. The closer the Explorer approached, the nearer the flames came to striking her, but she moved with a speed that far exceeded our expectations.

Flowers not only helped her jump, but also made it feel like each stride carried her twice as far as it should have. Not only that, but she too could propel herself with Water Sport in short bursts, though it only came from her blue bouquet. Wide, wide, wide, graze, wide, graze, hit, and she burned for a second before slipping out of the fire, wide—she had made it.

"Hit the chest!" Gardenia grinned. Already, we'd put up an Iron Defense—water pressurized within Roserade's flower so tightly that half of it turned to foam on her upswing. The Shell Trap would be tight. With unprecedented agility and a measured explosion on one side of his shell, the fire type spun around, and the punch bounced off helplessly against his shell— A massive detonation rattled the land.

Fiery, intense, one that sucked in all the air around both Pokemon and left Roserade burned to a crisp until she stepped back into her rain and darkened, ash-covered leaves turned back to a healthy green. It left us an opportunity to follow, to stick to the Explorer like glue in hopes of not letting her have a moment's respite, but—it was and would be a leap of faith.

"Flamethrower!"

"Extrasensory!" The two orders were exchanged, but our Pokemon had already begun moving. My Soul lowered himself on all fours, tail curling upward as flames gathered in his mouth and exploded in a wide arc that caught the Explorer off-guard. Her psychic powers were there, but they were paltry, and they failed to contain even the dull orange flame. Yes, we'd been ramping up, hadn't we? The Explorer laughed as more flames engulfed her, as did her trainer, and I felt my face warm. Not the time.

They lost themselves in a song and dance of dodging and striking each other, though the Explorer dared not venture close. She brought forth jets of water that rivaled a weak Hydro Pump, and we struck her with flames and scorching Dragon Pulses in hopes of destroying her. The earth here was not ours—our attempt at Bulldoze to slow the grass type remained a call unanswered; nature ruled and would rule until at least the Explorer was off the field. But. Eventually.

"Let rain and the sun befall them!" With those words came a drop in my chest and a familiar feeling of doom as the sun lowered itself beneath the rainclouds and brought with it swirling rainbows that stretched far and wide across the skies. Again. It was happening again. I couldn't—no—he would not survive the blast. With a graceful dance, the grass type called upon all under her command—everything the light of the sun touched—and ethereal light turned solid— I couldn't.

Back into his Pokeball, my Soul went, though I made sure to wait until the blast began. This time, it utterly destroyed Tyranitar's 'cave,' collapsing the stone structure into flower-covered rubble. The instincts as a trainer I'd begun to reawaken had forced me to despite my wants and needs. Roserade couldn't call upon such power multiple times. No, she needed time, just like I did, but for a whole other reason. I understood now. Understood what my Pokemon had been trying to tell me.

But I needed to let myself breathe, to allow my eyes to open and witness something that had been lacking in my existence for time immemorial. To pierce the dense fog I had wrapped around my heart, to lift the curtains upon the spectacle that was my life. Kindness. Not to others, though I could use that too, but the softness I had denied myself forever. It was always my fault, my problem, my issues, me, me, me, me —and yes, that was warranted sometimes. A lot of the time.

And there was a dangerous path to tread to kindness yet, but had I not been terribly unforgiving? The standard I had shackled myself to after all my sins was high, almost impossibly so, and I would meet it one day, but perhaps— Perhaps a sprinkle of Kindness would do. Upon one knee, Electivire appeared, and he rose so quickly, his body spry and young and eager with none of the sluggishness that had plagued my other Pokemon.

Tails intertwined with excitement, fingers flexed as they formed into fists, he hopped from side to side and faced the doubly tired Roserade— A red beam hit the grass type immediately, and Kindness nearly let out an annoyed whir, throwing his hands up before I shushed him and told him to remain, well, kind. It had been ages since he had been in such a fight, one with no lives at stakes, and he was just a little too restless for the Role.

The gentleness and calm needed as if he were a balm to my Soul just wasn't there. But he would do his best, and I would smile at him in turn. Was that not what being kind was like? One advantage we'd gained turning the field into a wet mess—though that had been exacerbated by the Explorer—was that electricity could spread through these lands quite easily. Already, arcs of it were flying across the field quicker than I could take a breath. Strangely enough, the sun remained, but the rain quickly faded.

The Adventurer knew our strengths, and any trainer worth their salt would know not to allow a storm in reach of an electric type. My opponent waited, and waited, and waited, for the longer she did so, the more water the ground would swallow without the rain to replenish it. Thirty seconds later came a Pokemon I had never seen before. He moved with a feline grace, sleek and poised, his body slender yet powerful beneath a cloak of deep green fur that shimmered in the light of the sun.

His appearance was striking, almost theatrical—his face framed by what looked like petals, forming a mask of soft purples and greens that lent him an air of mystery. He knelt, slowly plucking a purple flower from the ground and snatched it between his teeth.

"Meowscarada," the Adventurer spoke in a warning tone, "this one is fast, faster than nearly anything you've ever faced in a while—""Rain Dance and Lightning Bolt!" I yelled with a grin. Ah, the joys of having her operate on outdated information. A darkened rain cloud of our own materialized far above Kindness, up and up and up until thunder roiled within and struck us down in two seconds. It coalesced as an elongated, thin spike in his hand, and it crackled blue.

This was True Lightning, the kind that two of my mentors had thrown against each other atop a mountain like summoning it was effortless, yet it took all of our concentration— The Adventurer followed up with a "Spikes" that had me frown, but Kindness threw the electricity like a javelin. Ah. It turned back to a normal yellow mid-flight, but it was far too fast for anything to dodge. Yet when it hit Meowscarada— Nothing happened. Not a single hair on the grass type's body was harmed.

A thin sheet of dull, brown energy coiled around him like a second set of skin, and tiny little spikes, barely anything worth noting, littered the ground around his feet.

"Flower Trick—Yellow," my opponent ordered. Flowers her previous Pokemon had planted rose from the earth, each a dull yellow that spun around Meowscarada. The grass type mushed them together, combining them into an abomination of a bouquet that somehow fit and looked beautiful when it shouldn't have, and then came another, and another, and— What were we doing? I clapped my hands, snapping both Kindness and I out of our confused stupor. This was an attack we'd used against Galactic grunts, and it had done nothing?

There must have been some kind of trick, and more were coming. I knew her modus operandi by now; I expected the barrage of yellow flowers to explode into spores of some kind. The… Magician sent them forth, all at the same time. They flew in a wide arc until they suddenly sped up midway through with a flick of the grass type's fingers—"Protect!" Yellow pollen —not spores, it was far too powdery and clumpy—burst out of each bouquet with every explosion, and they swirled around Kindness in the form of a tornado.

Undeterred, he moved, a herculean effort while still maintaining his Protect. As soon as he was out of the smoke, he fired off a quick Thunderbolt to test the Magician's defenses, but once again, a spike slid out of beneath his cape, and the attack did nothing. I could see the shape of it now, how they needed to use a ground type move to gather a second skin that shielded them from electricity. Look at your feet, the Magician goaded.

Shit, I'd been too focused on him—a bouquet camouflaged between the countless flowers exploded in another swarm of yellow pollen, and Honey quickly flickered back with Radiant Leap before I could blink. Yet, he coughed, grimacing as he waved his hand in front of his nose and mouth and scraped some of the pollen off him. He hurled, cheeks swelling with what I assumed was vomit, and he puked all over the ground, staining the flowers in a sickly yellow-green bile.

He was so rattled that his localized Rain Dance ended, dissolving in the wind. A seed came next, landing softly on the electric type's head like a feather, and instead of the Leech Seed I expected, out burst a strange, red thorn that pricked the side of Kindness' face and drew a tiny amount of blood. I wanted to ask if he was okay, but that would be doing him a disservice. The fun he had expected had been snuffed out, smothered in trickery and deception.

We needed to find our footing, but as it turned out, making an Electivire nauseous to the point of being unable to move was a fantastic way of taking away his main advantage: his speed. He tried moving, but each step was accompanied by a grumble in his stomach and more vomit, and somehow, he kept spewing out even if he must have run out of food a long time ago.

The best he managed to do was pull up a Protect to stall other Flower Tricks or Energy Balls or Magical Leaves in hopes of outlasting the nausea, but it was not letting up. They knew that eventually, we'd get too tired to keep up the Protect. Time to improvise.

"Fire Swift! Stagger them!" He turned his head back at me like I was insane. Maybe I was. We'd never used that move, after all, only Electric Swift, but as it turned out, without electric type attacks, we were horribly equipped to deal with foes that kept their distance. We just had Electric Swift, which hadn't seen serious use in months. He laughed and thrust his arms forward; a cluster of bright, golden stars erupted from his palms as soon as the shimmering green barrier fell around him.

I knew the Adventurer's theme. Knew she worked well with the sun and rain, and that her next move would be water type to keep her Magician safe. Case in point—"Chilling Water," she said. The burning stars carved through the air, trailing streams of fire in their wake like comets streaking across the battlefield. The heat distorted the air around them as they swirled and circled, faster and faster, honing in on the Magician at different speeds.

Once again, the attack from the Magician was weak, only there to protect instead of strike. Cold, frozen waters sprouted from the ground at his feet, and the first Swift barely harmed the grass type— I snapped my finger.

"Thunder." Electricity crackled, coiling around his tails with pulsating energy. It shot out of his hands, and the earth around him shattered with the power brought forth by Thunder. The Magician's eyes widened, and his trainer laughed, knowing that there was no time. That wasn't for lack of trying—the Magician's cape flapped, and more spikes fell through, but here was the thing about their trick. It was fast, yes.

I could see the second set of skin crawling up the Meowscarada's legs like creeping vines, slithering beneath his fur in a shimmering, translucent layer. It spread quickly, molding over his muscles, sleek and almost invisible, like a living armor that bent the light around it. But we were faster. The rest of the fiery stars collided with her, as did the enormous beam of electricity— I squinted as the Adventurer recalled her Pokemon.

It felt almost unfair, how quick she'd been on the draw, but the Magician was one to fight at a distance, and the space between him and Kindness had been large enough to allow them respite, though only barely. Teeth gnashing, I inhaled a deep breath to calm myself down. It was unlike me to get so excited, so taken by the idea of victory and the ultimate triumph. The Adventurer had saved her switches for a reason—it allowed her more maneuverability in the end game of the fight. What now, dear challenger?

Back into the Explorer? It was a possibility now that Kindness was afflicted by crippling nausea and couldn't move very well. The manner in which she grabbed her next Pokeball was so casual I nearly found myself forgetting I was fighting for my very existence. It lolled in her hand, but she didn't wait long. With a guttural groan, the Pokeball split open, and the air around us dropped several degrees in an instant. Twisted pieces of bark, blackened like obsidian and linked by the thickest of shadows.

He was covered in deep cracks that pulsed with an eerie glow from within. Its eye—a single, hollow orb of crimson—flickered to life, staring forward with a gaze that seemed to pierce the soul. The creature's crooked form shifted with a creaking groan, each movement quick and deliberate; staring at its six legs was like observing an insect crawling up a wall. I had imagined a Trevenant would be larger. This one, though. This one?

He carried with him a tree half-grown, allowing him to scuttle across the field at high speeds. Wherever he stepped, flowers died—"Bulldoze! Slow him down and strike!" I yelled.

"Phantom Force," the Adventurer countered, hands on her hips. The earth shook, spreading cracks like spiderwebs across the fertile dirt and kicking up flowers, but Trevenant flickered out of existence, immediately reappearing leagues ahead with a screech—the sound of agony, of many men and women in pain who had gotten lost in a forest. It was enough to make Electivire jump out of his skin, and the Thunder that came out next frayed to the side and grazed the Trevenant's trunk. Fine. Fine.

Let them get close, then; it wasn't like we could battle at a distance with the Magician's tricks hampering us. The ghost left behind him a trail of wilting flowers, and the essence of life itself seemed to be absorbed into the Trevenant's body. I knew what he was now, the last piece of the puzzle in the Adventurer's party.

One they only used in the worst of circumstances, for they were warriors of Good who gave and shared, and he was a villain who only took, wielding death and drawing from the earth, leeching away from vitality as if it were his birthright. Warlock.

"Dig and Confuse Ray!" the Adventurer ordered. Dig? Once they got close, the Warlock sank into the ground as if it were a pond and reappeared only three seconds later behind Kindness, sprouting like a new tree with a light in front of his eye that hurt to look at for too long, and screeched. Words spilled out of my mouth.

"Fire Punch!" A vicious backhand struck Trevenant, cracking and scorching parts of his tree even blacker than it already was. The Confuse Ray went wide, fizzling out in the sky, but the Warlock rooted himself with Ingrain, not in the earth, but on Kindness like a parasite. Enough electricity to blind me through closed eyes burst out of Kindness' fur, but it would take more than that to take down the Warlock.

Electivire attempted to strike with Fire Punch, but the ghost's body seemed to endlessly shift around him, and all he managed to do was hit his own shoulder. He was spinning around in a dance of death, face twisting with the need to puke. Thunder. Thunder. Thunder.

By the third one, the Warlock wrenched himself free, scuttling across the field like a twisted marionette, leaving another trail of dying flowers in his wake, but not before leaving behind a second Confuse Ray that managed to enter Kindness' body and rendered his case even worse. He could barely even stand straight by now, his balance unraveling with each misstep until his legs buckled beneath him, and once again, he hurled on the ground.

I grabbed his Pokeball, unsure of whether to recall him or to save it for the last, but I had no idea whether the nausea would stay—"Mean Look." Mistake. My stomach twisted in knots, and the Trevenant glared; they were hollow pits of darkened crimson radiating malice and glee at the trap sprung. For a second, the world shrunk to just those eyes, as if everything else around me had never mattered, and I could only hear the sound of my beating heart. The fragility of the human condition.

There was no point in even attempting to recall the electric type now. Despite this, the damage we'd done to the Warlock was actually substantial, and he did not seem to be able to regenerate any of it unlike the other members of her team. Even Meowscarada had made use of Roserade's field of flowers to trickle in energy within himself, even if it was subtle. Wait. This made…

The taking of energy for seemingly naught, the endless scuttling to cover as much ground as possible, the crippling of arguably the Pokemon who she found the most difficult to deal with over the course of the last few minutes with both the Magician and the Warlock as if she'd been playing the long game. The Trap with a capital T. The Adventurer cackled—she must have seen the look of realization on my face. I knew it was coming; I just thought it would have been with the Explorer, her most trusted Pokemon!

A final clash between her and my Soul, perfectly aligned with the story where both would finally go all out— Therein lay my weakness.

"Remembrance!" she screamed as one with the Warlock, and a shadow came to curse the world. Flowers and plants did not have souls, but they were living beings all the same. The air thickened with a haunting silence as the shadow consumed the field. The sun disappeared behind it first, snuffed out like a candle in a storm. The sky followed, swallowed by an impenetrable blackness that spread over the battlefield like ink flooding water. It wasn't gradual—it was instant.

One blink, and everything vanished into a void so complete it felt suffocating. The earth beneath their feet might as well have ceased to exist; there was no sense of ground, no horizon, no distant shapes to give the illusion of space. The field was gone, consumed by the absolute pitch of nothingness save for them. Everything was so quiet. I was reminded of the Darkest Day, but this was no true nothingness. Hidden in the void were moving shapes and whispering voices. Trevenant's body twitched.

Kindness clenched at his head and began to scream until his eyes rolled back onto his head, and he fell unconscious. I did not even understand what had just happened, what he had just seen. What that attack had just been. I waited. Waited. And waited. But the void didn't clear. In fact, it didn't even diminish.

Throughout this battle, our backs had been against the wall; we had conceded much of the field as soon as Reflection had fallen, even if we had fought back on occasion, and unfortunately, it looked like the void was here to stay. It was in times like these, where the dark felt insurmountable and despair weighed you down like a mountain, that the most delusional of Hopes sprang up like a stubborn weed through cracked pavement.

It was a flicker in the void, a faint glimmer in my heart that dared to defy the oppressive shadows. Had I given up in my countless fights, my tantrums against the world? The battle with Saturn, where I had been outnumbered by numbers too high to count, and it was as if I'd been but a single girl and her friends holding a knife against an army? No. You fought because your life mattered. You fought because the flickering flame of existence, however dim, demanded to be tended to.

And in this case, you fought because it might, believe it or not, be fun. It was up to her to renew Hope—up to her to be Hope. You fought, you fought, you fought; your skin was cut, your bones were broken, your teeth were knocked out, your mouth was bloodied, your hair was torn out, but at the end of it all, the sun would still rise in the morning and the moon would still shine in the sky at night. There she was.

Hope sparkled the moment she popped out of her Pokeball, up into the sky, and her eyes sharpened—"You're Hope, not Violence!" I warned her as loud as possible, hoping my voice would make it. We had prepared multiple roles. Redemption would have been the last, but the story had not progressed at all that way.

"Get in character—it's just you and Sun—my Soul left!" They didn't sharpen—they softened as she began to laugh, even in the midst of the darkness. The Adventurer opened her mouth, but I could not hear her scream out her next order. The Warlock hummed, his body brimming with whatever this void was made of, and it swarmed Hope everywhere she went. Since the color was black on black, discerning its proximity became an exercise in futility.

Many shadows collided with the dense panels of psychic energy, ricocheting harmlessly away, yet others wove through the defenses with unsettling ease. With urgency creeping into her movements, she quickened her pace, acutely aware of the danger lurking in the inky void. And yet, she laughed. A laugh of childlike wonder with every hit as she weaved bright orange mystic flames around her and her fur slicked back— Boom. I couldn't believe my eyes and ears.

The shockwave was invisible in the void, but its sound was undeniable. She'd broken the sound barrier—Hope weaved in between attacks, growing more comfortable in the environment until she was nothing but a nearly indiscernible blur of white against pitch black. Yet the Warlock could be anywhere and everywhere at once, traveling throughout his dominion without the usual delay of Phantom Force. He easily dodged the Mystical Fire that was sent in a concentrated jet above him and kept harassing us with the dark.

Wind started to pick up, ominous and bearing with it muffled screams of the fallen. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see spirits just like they were in Distortion, all under the Warlock's command. They took the form of Will-O-Wisps, Confuse Rays, Night Shades, and nearly-invisible Hexes left as traps in the sky Hope would occasionally run into.

"Cut!" I smiled. A barrel roll to shake off the oil-like darkness, a pass through a zone pressurized by Extrasensory, and Hope once again broke the sound barrier as she swooped down toward the possessed tree. The ghost raised one of his skeletal, wooden hands, and it suddenly grew twice, five, tenfold in length and girth, all while darkness orbited around it. Wood hammer, but ghostly, I noted.

They were hoping to trade a good hit, maybe to break a wing, as Togekiss slowed down to charge up Moonblast, but— That was the thing. We were not going to use Moonblast. An invisible force borne of belief cut across the Warlock's joint, where his arm remained the thinnest, and it fell clean off of the grass type's trunk. Then another, and another, a dozen cuts spread across his body until Princess made a pass and rained fire on his body.

The Warlock's pained shriek pierced the air, his fury igniting a furious blaze within his singular eye. The Ominous Wind intensified, swirling around him with a vengeance, as countless curses hurled at Princess surged forward, propelled not by Trevenant's own will but by the agitated spirits that answered his wrath. Just as hope swelled in my heart, Hope ramped up and kept throwing attack after attack, using her wicked cuts to keep the Warlock on the backfoot.

Fire, fire, more fire, carried by gusts of Fairy Wind and riding Air Slashes and imbedded in her Cuts and by the Legendaries, her pace was unheard of for the Adventurer's Trevenant, because the focus needed to destroy her just wasn't there. Blows were exchanged, as they always were. It was not a one-sided fight, but an evenly-matched one.

"Dazzling Gleam and Moonblast!" It was Light against Dark, Hope against Despair—Togekiss shone, radiant and pure, her resplendence imbuing my heart with an unshakeable faith in her, and she grew blinding, banishing the darkness around her with each pulse. With a thousand screams, the void recoiled as if scorched, retreating further with each pulse of her light, and soon she stood alone, a beacon in a void that once threatened to consume us all. And upon that beacon of radiant light, a moon was born.

It started small, just a shimmering orb of pale, silver light cradled within Hope's grasp, but it grew swiftly, swelling in size with each second, greedily drinking the light afforded to it. A thousand tiny tears in the air surrounded the shimmering sphere, and void swirled around its gravitational pull until it was banished at its center. It was pure, unblemished perfection—the fusion of two unwavering beliefs, a hope and a prayer to everything that defined us.

The Warlock was pulled up, incapable of sticking to the void currently being banished. Already, I could see slivers of color, but—"Distortion Explosion!" The Adventurer's muffled voice made it through the fading dark. The vast remaining darkness that had smothered the battlefield began to collapse inward, sucked back into a single point in the sky, peeling off the ground and invisible walls like paint. Shadows coiled and twisted, pulling away from the earth and sky as if reality itself was unraveling.

The once suffocating blackness now swirled into a vortex made of deceased flowers, tightening into a pinprick that distorted everything around it, even light. Three orbs in the sky—the moon, having absorbed or cut ample darkness and weakening; the sun, having remained, but faded due to Trevenant not replenishing it; a black hole borne of distortion outgrowing both. They hung there for a second. And then they erupted. Words could not describe what I was looking at.

Shapes blurred, as if the fabric of reality had been stretched too thin, threatening to unravel at the seams. The moonlight bled into the void, and the void bled into the moonlight, indistinguishable yet fighting to exist. The barrier around the fight threatened to shatter, and I heard a voice desperately call for another psychic, whatever the hell that was supposed to mean.

I felt the impact in my bones; the collision of light and dark seared itself into my vision, etching patterns I could barely comprehend, lingering until I blinked them away, though their afterimage clung like a shadow in the back of my mind. The moon and black hole were gone.

The battlefield was covered in deceased flowers, though none of them were torn to shreds or had even a single blemish—they were all just a mixture of pitch black and purple at their center, and they carried with them whispers from beyond this world. Not even the corners had been spared—every inch of these plains had been covered in death. The Ominous Wind had ceased, as had any other attacks. The Warlock was left a burned and exhausted mess, his form barely recognizeable and his shadow barely clinging to his tree.

Hope was very much the same, a bleeding heap on the ground coughing ghostly energy out of her lungs. The sun? The sun remained ever-present. A final note. Togekiss was unable to move, but she remained conscious and thinking. In between pained grunts were short bursts of laughter as she eyed her fallen opponent. She did not boast or make fun of him. She giggled at the fight, at the opportunity she had been given to battle a peer and see it through.

And thus, with the laughs reverberating across these dead grasslands, she allowed herself to believe in me and my Soul. Hope, battered but unbroken, raised her head toward the heavens, her once-glorious wings trembling as they stretched outward. The light of a star shimmered in her eyes, and she drew breath, though each was laced with a pained rasp. Her voice, soft yet resolute, echoed through the desolate field, gentle yet laced with purpose. Stars above, I beseech thee!

Hope yelled as the Adventurer recalled her Warlock. Let thy celestial grace descend upon our humble vessel, for though I falter, Hope itself shall not fall. My eyes widened; she tried turning toward me, bearing through the pain of a broken body. Soul, I offer unto thee this wish, that it may guide us through the dark and heal what has been torn asunder. Let this be my clarion call to fate!

With a single deep breath, her entire body began to glow from within, the light so subtle at first, it seemed like nothing more than the glint of the sun on her feathers. But then, like the first flicker of a kindling flame, it grew. It ascended, higher and higher, casting long shadows across the barren field below. The radiance pulsed gently, growing as it soared above the darkness, as if the very heavens themselves had answered her call. And thus, Togekiss fell.

"Ha… hahaha!" Laughter spilled out of me. I was losing, and laughing! Mirth so strong my legs trembled beneath me and I found myself running out of breath, coughing and desperate for air. I was Grace Pastel. Pokemon Trainer. A fire, lit. I understood now. By the time I came to, I realized the Magician was back on the field, this Meowscarada Pokemon I had never seen before today.

How fascinating his attacks and tricks were, how I wanted to learn absorb explore decipher grasp comprehend replicate embody and master everything I had seen and done here on this wonderful day. I had faced my demons, battled my inner self, and had come out so much stronger for it that every vein within me was lit with the flame of ambition; every inch of my skin flared up to a feverish temperature.

My body was alive, dripping with sweat; my eyes were darting around, analyzing everything they could find; my breaths were shallow, yet my body was brimming with insatiable hunger. And it was wonderful, and it was beautiful, and it was exhilarating, and I could laugh and laugh and laugh about it for as long as needed. Unfortunately, I'd nearly run out of time—not that it wouldn't have been the correct strategy, anyway, given Wish.

Throat pained due to the throes of laughter, I released my Soul onto the field for a third and final time.

"Sunshine!" I remembered now, and his name rang out like a thunderclap as it echoed through the air.

"You're the last; our backs are against the wall! A Wish is coming—" Gardenia moved.

"Flower Trick—Black!"

"Flame Charge and Shell Trap! Close the distance!" That was what he'd been waiting for all day. Blueish-white flames erupted from his scales, tearing out in wild bursts like they couldn't be contained any longer and burning the weak paralysis out of him. They swirled around him in chaotic, unpredictable arcs, bending and snapping in every direction. The sound—oh, Legendaries, the sound of it felt like a continuous explosion of flame. It was a Soul reignited.

He retreated into his shell and blew up in a blast that carried him up, each strike of his tail making him speed up until he warped the air around him with speed and flame, and he left behind him a trail of fire.

The Magician had been gathering the darkened flowers—I was still surprised at Gardenia's sheer tactical foresight to be able to use these dead flowers—but the sheer momentum at which we'd come made the dragon slam into Meowscarada like a freight train, blowing up every bouquet in his way and collapsing the ones behind him. They exploded in a burst of black pollen that shivered and spread cold throughout, but it was immediately burned away by fire. No. Fire. It was Fire.

White and pure, flickering with blue light at its edges. Both Sunshine and the Magician tumbled forward from the collision, but the dragon refused to let go. Flames crackled and surged as he held on tight, his claws searing into the Magician's throat. The Meowscarada thrashed wildly, limbs flailing against the inferno consuming him, but Sunshine's grip was unrelenting. Fire blazed across the dragon's body, wild and merciless, as he lifted his opponent off the ground and—"Fire Blast."

He was burned to a crisp and did so screaming, which you could barely hear, anyway. The Magician had always been more of a supportive Pokemon than anything, an anchor meant to cripple more than win, so there was no way he'd stand up to Sunshine at his peak. Not that the Flower Trick hadn't done anything. When Sunshine let go of him, and Gardenia recalled Meowscarada, he turned his head wildly and called out that he couldn't see anything but vague shapes and lights. Blindness.

He had blinded us, and it would be perfect for the Explorer to camouflage herself as soon as she brought life back onto the field! Out came Roserade, the explorer of a thousand lands, and who would explore another countless regions. She came back gracefully with flowers blooming at her feet, though she instantly noticed the heat and shrunk until she called forth a cold rain and the field was covered with clouds.

The majority of it evaporated around Sunshine, but for the flames to be so hot, they needed to be concentrated on him. The vast majority of the battlefield was still liveable, and flowers bloomed once again wherever the rain fell.

"Take away the sun—all in on the rain—" No.

"No!" I screamed, my body drenched in sweat.

"Wrest it away from them!" It was a futile attempt. We knew Sunny Day, but they knew the Sun in and out, and our skill wasn't enough to actually keep it there. All we'd done was slow it. The Explorer held her blue bouquet forward and a jet of pressurized water hit Sunshine in the chest, speeding up the process. The artificial sun dipped further and further in the sky with each wave of her red bouquet. The jet grew more powerful as it did so, growing in intensity and width in line with the intensifying rain.

Even if we burned too hot for her flowers to take hold, it would be a slow and pathetic loss. An anticlimactic end to the greatest and most exciting fight I had and would most likely ever experience; it would be a story smothered by tactics. We would not allow it. What did it take to achieve victory? It meant to push yourself beyond what you believed to be possible, even if your body broke apart.

It meant letting the fire of competition devour you whole, without ever burning out—because you were endless, inexhaustible, an unquenchable force that would never allow the flame to burn out and die again. You were a boundless reservoir of willpower, capable of stoking your inner blaze again and again, over and over for as long as you needed. To stop was never an option. You were the engine of your own greatness, and as long as you moved, the fire within you would keep roaring. Did you see it?

The Wish bearing down from the heavens, carrying with it a message from each of my parts. Yes. He saw it, a light less bright than the hidden sun, but a light nonetheless. It was time.

"Touch the skies and reach for the stars, my beloved Soul." I held my breath. It was almost scary to utter it, like a forbidden sentence.

"You Are A Star." To her, it sounded like praise, but to us? Oh, to us, it was everything. I knew him, and he knew me, because we were each other. He understood his task immediately. It would be grueling and agonizing, but it would all be worth it. Do not go gentle into the night; do not let the flame die out. He shot into the sky, each explosion angled nearly perfectly. Of course, to Gardenia, it looked like we'd overshot our mark.

Wish was, after all, a small light that was fuzzy and easy to miss for a blind, normally landbound dragon that was heavily wounded, barely able to walk without propelling himself with Shell Trap. We didn't need to receive it. Princess' words alone had been enough. My Soul shot past the Wish, and Gardenia's eyes widened as it fell to the ground and fizzled out. We were not ready to use We Are A Star quite yet, but what if we had a crutch?

"Remove your Sunny Day!" she cried out. Ah, she'd been greedy, had she not? To take it out of reach instead of taking it out of the equation just in case she found an opening to use whatever that rainbow blast of life was. All battle long, she had nurtured and cultivated the sun, and it would have been a waste just to disappear it, wouldn't it have been? I waited, and waited, and waited—"Shell Smash!"

One more explosion shattered his shell, splitting it in two down the middle, and boundless energy leaked out of him the moment he sunk into the artificial sun even faster. Where was her bloody rainbow now, I thought with another laugh, and the sun turned to a scorching orange, to an elegant blue, to a brilliant white that turned the earth below a monochrome expanse. The blazing orb swelled in size before crashing to the ground, and tendrils spread throughout the arena.

Solar flares mixed in with draconic energy, each gargantuan in size as the entire battlefield caught ablaze and all that was left was a scorching, burning hell that Roserade couldn't help but look at even as she caught on fire. Gardenia uttered something, but the words were devoured by the overwhelming roar of the sun, and her starter stood resolute.

She bore the brunt of the heat as the star slowly approached and raised her left bouquet, spinning it around herself in a graceful arc, calling forth every last drop of rain and moisture lingering in the vapor, the clouds, and the earth beneath her. The air shimmered with a dance of droplets, each one responding to her call, converging into a magnificent sphere of water that grew in size, tiny at first, like a whisper of hope, then swelling larger and larger until it eclipsed the very sun itself.

This aqueous shield enveloped her, a living cocoon that housed new life within its translucent embrace. Tender blades of grass sprang forth, coiling vines spiraled upwards, and vibrant flowers burst into bloom. The moment hung in the air like a taut string, each heartbeat a countdown to the inevitable collision. The thread snapped. Fire met Life, and the world went white. The sound detonated with the wrath and light of supernovae.

It surged forth in waves, each pulse a violent crescendo that tore through the air as if the sound itself had a physical mass—I groaned, clutching at my ear as soon as my hearing aid went haywire, and I allowed the explosion to run its course. It seemed to lower in intensity in sync with my breaths and the realization that the fight was over. Yet I wasn't nervous about the results, not even a little bit. It was satisfaction that had overwhelmed my heart.

My legs wobbled from under me, and I fell on my butt with a laugh. My clothes were covered in sweat, and my vision was still covered in sunspots whenever I blinked. That had been so much fun that I wanted to go again. Both Fire and Life had dissipated, now. What remained was Roserade burned to a crisp and face down in the scorched earth, and Sunshine on his back, but— Awake. Awake and aware and conscious and whatever the hell that implied?! Had I won? I'd won, hadn't I?

I threw my head up and lay flat against the ground, struggling for each breath. And thus, the story ended. I'd lost the thread a bit as it went on, but… A rainbow hung in the air. It was raining. — I didn't know for how long I hung there, but eventually I heard steps coming up my platform.

"Well, well, well. Look at you," Gardenia said casually. It was actually incredible how carefree it was, even if she was radiating with a smile and she looked refreshed.

"I thought you might have passed out. Heard it happened with Candice." I groaned, eyes shutting in embarrassment.

"That was once." I glanced toward the field, and she said something I didn't catch.

"What?" I asked.

"Need help getting up?" Slowly, it dawned upon me that I wasn't hearing properly. …my hearing aid might have broken from being overwhelmed by the sounds of that explosion.

"Ye—" wait, I was way too sweaty for this. I didn't want her to touch my icky hands.

"No, I'll be fine." With a grunt, I pushed myself off the ground and stared down at Sunshine, who couldn't even move beyond the smallest of twitches. His body was burned, something I'd never seen before; his scales had been charred black.

"Thank you, Sunshine!" I yelled, cupping my hands, though my voice didn't sound like much. He annoyingly waved a hand—I could tell he wanted back in his ball to not have to deal with the pain as much, but didn't want to say it out loud. With a tired laugh, I recalled him and got up. My legs felt like jelly. I noticed two Kadabra carrying a third by levitating her in the air down where the… referee had been. It was probably about time I got upgraded to the ones they used for the Conference, wasn't it?

Or maybe a single Mr. Mime—though those weren't in any Gyms. Gardenia pursed her lips, a single hand remaining on her hip.

"That was a wonderful fight, Grace. I know a lot more about you now—though I was a little confused." Oh God, she hadn't understood any of it, had she? My eyes suddenly found my feet and the ground to be the most appealing thing in the world.

"Hey, no need to look so embarrassed. I needed it too—I rarely have fights this fun. I was smiling the entire second half." The next words spilled out anyway.

"I was—it's weird, I know, but I was making a story. Uh, to find myself and my love for battling again—""Oh, I got that. The story bit, at least, even if I didn't understand the plot much. The dragon hibernating in his cave, the names you gave them, the way you focused on ice at the start and slowly transitioned to only fire by the end as a metaphor for passion worked really well, I'd say, and both were effective against my grass types. Things like this can be contrived, but you made it work and even beat Rose!"

The Gym Leader looked me up and down.

"I didn't take you for a theatre kid."

"I don't do theatre…" She threw her head up and laughed.

"You don't have to do theatre to encompass what that means, Grace. Also, that was some wonderful sandbagging from you all fight. Usually the tactic's too risky, but there was a big gap in information between Byron and this battle. That Flamethrower from your Tyranitar you saved until you could secure a takedown, especially. Your Claydol was really annoying and baited us into using Superpower, which is an all-or-nothing move for us and left us vulnerable.

And by the Legendaries, it was really obvious with Turtonator, but I think it made me feel too secure—and I didn't expect him to fly and jump into a Sunny Day to take it over! I've never seen that before!" She beamed at me like the sun. Gardenia continued to praise me for my prowess, though honestly the sandbagging stuff had been completely unintentional. I'd actually caught her off-guard due to her having field control the vast majority of the fight and being able to spring her Trevenant trap on me.

Once that had happened, she'd actually believed her win to be assured, and it wasn't often that she was wrong about something.

"You can date Maymay, by the way," she added.

"I figured I'd let you know." Both my hands unconsciously grabbed on one of hers, and I shook it wildly.

"Oh my God, thank you, thank you, thank you! I won't disappoint you—I'll be good to her! And I—and I love her a whole lot, and I'll make her the happiest she's ever been, and—" The fact that I was touching her with moist hands sunk in, and I recoiled.

"Sorry…" She snorted.

"It's fine."

"Do—do you have time for another fight? I still have Angel available—that's my Tangrowth," I mumbled.

"Of course, I'd bring my Pokemon to the Center first… oh wait." Would Sunshine be out in time before the Byron battle? What about Princess? I felt my stomach drop and audibly gulped. Fuck, I'd gotten way too into the fight! And I'd need a new story, too! I'd taken the one I'd been supposed to act out and adapted it here, but it'd be incredibly unsatisfying to hit nearly the same plot beats again.

"I'd wait before that if I were you." Gardenia nudged her head forward. It was only now that I realized we'd been walking toward the door she came out of and not mine. She grabbed her phone while I waited there, trying to workshop a whole new strategy and story I'd be able to use against Byron, possibly without Sunshine, until the door opened.

"You're late," Gardenia groused with a hint of frustration. I gaped at the heavy-muscled, burgundy-haired man as he scratched the back of his head and leaned against the handle of his shovel. What in the world was Byron doing here?

"Don't glare at me, lass. I'm clearly sick, as you know. It's been the nastiest of colds." He put a fist in front of his mouth and let out the most exaggerated, fake cough of all time." And I'm a busy man. Sorry if I can't be right on time everywhere I go." Gardenia rolled her eyes, but I didn't miss her smirk.

"Well, go ahead, then."

"Yes, yes." Byron got closer to me and brusquely clapped my shoulder.

"Grace Pastel! That was some wonderful battling from you; I was watching it from in there!" He pointed back with his thumb.

"I see the lesson I imparted onto you during our own fight worked wonders. Pokedex and ID please."

"What? What for?"

"You defeated my substitute in combat; what do you think? It's for your badge, money, and TM." I blinked at him.

"What?" His face scrunched up in confusion, and he rubbed his beard.

"Gardenia, did she not know?" His fellow Gym Leader let out an awkward laugh.

"Heavens above!" Byron laughed, slapping his knee, and waggled his finger at her.

"Oh, that's a good one! That's—" another laugh, louder this time. Gardenia clicked her tongue, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Hurry up and give it to her so I can explain!"

"Substitute?" I mumbled.

"Yes. I'm sick, you see." He wasn't sick at all. He just looked a little tired from work.

"And my Gym is undergoing plenty of renovations before we properly open, so I'm afraid it wasn't useable. Now, Pokedex and ID, please." I absent-mindedly handed it to him, and he fiddled with it for a moment.

"You're now the owner of the Mine Badge, and I've transferred eighty-thousand dollars to your account. You've also got access to the reusable Flash Cannon TM." When I just looked up at him in silence, he tried smiling at me.

"You've got eight badges now! Be proud!"

"But I already beat Gardenia once for my second badge!" I yelled.

"Oh boy," he sighed.

"My job here's done; I've got to head back to work. I'll see you later, lass." He nodded at Gardenia and waved at me. He whistled and left, calmly walking away from us as he twirled his shovel in his hand. He just left!

"Is—is this real?" I asked. The badge was right there on my ID with my stupid picture! It had somewhat of a geometric design with three diamond-shaped facets the color of molten amber embedded in a metallic blue backdrop.

"It is. Believe me, I would have told you, but Maymay said it'd be a bad idea and that you'd either have said no because you didn't want to disappoint me, or you would have been swallowed up by the pressure of the fight and collapsed halfway through. If you would have lost, we wouldn't have told you anything. Anyway, let me explain. That Ferrothorn was one of Byron's, and Byron's Gym was registered as open for the duration of the battle, which I'm sure will have people asking questions.

All of this was kind of a legal loophole…" she kept going, explaining the legality of it all, but it was all Kalosian to me. Not that I could pay attention anyway. Maylene had come up with this?

"Now, I would have battled you anyway. What I said about needing to know more about you was true. No badge would have come with it—oh." I was crying. They were happy tears. And confused. Very confused.

"Why are you he—helping me?" I sobbed, wiping my face.

"I ha—haven't even done a—anything deserving of this!"

"Because I—we—" she sighed, not knowing what to say for once.

"I'm sorry. Oh, Arceus, please don't cry. Not now. I—do you need tissues? Wait, I don't have tissues on me. Uh, here take this." She grabbed the short cape on her back and held it out for me. I sobbed even harder.

"I—I can't use your cape."

"Uh, it's more of a cloak than a cape—but please dry your tears. I don't want to look like I did something!" Her fear puzzled me, but I was in no state to think or care. I still didn't use her cloak, and instead resorted to the bottom of my own shirt. An unknown number of minutes passed until the door opened again. This time, it was Maylene that came out with a smile.

"Are you guys done? Who won—" the words died in her throat when she saw me.

"Nia!" Maylene ran over to us and pulled me away from her friend.

"What did you say to her?"

"Nothing, she—""Nothing," I sniffled.

"It's just the badge. I didn't expect…" she cradled my face, wiped the few remaining tears off my cheek, and exhaled in relief.

"It was your idea?" I asked.

"Yeah. I hope you're not mad. I felt bad keeping you in the dark." I let out an ugly crying laugh.

"That's why you asked me so much stuff about today. Stupid. I should have known."

"Hey, I could have been worried about your battle with Byron, for all you knew," she said.

"And you fell for it, so who's the real winner here?" I glanced up at her pink eyes and crooked smile.

"Arceus, I love you," I sighed, melting into her with a hug she eagerly returned, even while whispering a complaint about Gardenia being right here.

"Thank you so much for doing this for me."

"I'd do anything for you." My heart squeezed, but in a wonderful way.

"And thank Nia, too. She agreed without much convincing from me."

"Thank you, Gardenia. For, uh, everything." She waved a hand dismissively.

"It was a lot of fun."

"Arceus, what is Poketch going to say?" All of these plans and marketing for my rematch with Byron were meaningless now.

"I have to tell Melody about this…"

"That's your liaison, right?" Gardenia asked. I nodded.

"Those new cameras I talked about? I was recording the fight. Won't be uploaded unless you give me the okay." Oh. That helped a lot—there being no footage would be the first hurdle to clear. Then I'd have to deal with people possibly thinking this was favoritism because I was close to Maylene. People never battled the same Gym Leader twice, and five out of six Pokemon had been Gardenia's— Maylene gently flicked my nose.

"Just enjoy the moment and stop worrying for a sec, okay dummy? I'm skipping work the rest of today to hang out with you. My Gym Trainers are handling battles."

"Fine." She was right. I'd won against Gardenia while she'd used her starter! I was going to the Conference!

"Maymay." Once again, I looked directly into her eyes. I hadn't thought it possible to love someone this much.

"I think I'm ready for the next step." I grabbed onto my girlfriend's hand tightly. A/N: Sorry about the delay. It's been a while since I've written one of these, so I was a little rusty.