I stare blankly at the chaos-stricken battlefield in front of me, and the limp heap of fur. I blink back the frustration and sinking feeling of loss, as my hands curls to form tight fists. The man on the sidelines looks quickly between me and another figure on the other side. He clears his throat, and decidedly strikes the red flag on his right.

"Furret is unable to battle!" The referee doesn't hesitate in his words, not skipping a beat, "Feraligatr wins! The winner of the match is…"

I zone out the rest of his words, shock embedded all the way into the core of my bones. The boy with the black cap whoops, and rushes to wrap his arms around his battered but standing Pokemon. But etiquette was etiquette, so I slowly pull myself upright after tapping the sphere, and rigidly walk towards him.

The boy and his Pokemon notices, and he stammers, an after effect of battling for an entire afternoon, "Good match, well played."

I curtly nod, and shake his outstretched hand. It trembles and it's damp with sweat, coarse from journeying.

He hesitated, "I'm sorry for your loss. We didn't m-."

I stopped him before he could finish his sentence with a raised hand to show I was fine.

At least let me retain some of my dignity and some of Blanc's.

"It was bad luck", I finally let out, fingering the scratch marks on the well worn pokeball.

Ethan, the name I believe, rushes on, "It's still really impressive, you know? I expected Lance since I faced him in Kanto, but then again, of course someone would have eventually won against him."

"I just didn't expect someone so…", he trailed off, taking my appearance in properly.

Young?

"But you'll learn from this!" He gave me a thumbs up, "I've been a trainer for years already!"

I stay quiet this time, it didn't matter. He demolished my team even after my - our efforts of trying to stall. We tried our best, but it wasn't enough. He was too good. Too skilled.

Was this worth it? Losing one of my dear friends just to keep a title that I only had for a season?

My hands clench at my sides, and I pass him, patting him on the shoulder as I do, "Good luck, Ethan Hibiki."

I cry once I'm outside the stadium in the terminal, and my mother soon appears. Her complexion is ghostly pale, and her eyes rimmed with red.

She gasps, "Did you hear?"

I sniffle and eyed her curiously, shoving aside everything to the corner of my mind. She couldn't have known so quickly all the way from the Alph, so what was she talking about?

Her mouth trembles, and she breaks down into a flurry of tears once more, "It's your brother."

"They say he disappeared with a great white dragon."

My heart splutters to a stop, and my mouth runs dry.

No.

"What?" I croak, thinking I may have misheard her.