He glimpsed her waiting for him on a platform overlooking her gym and instantly thought of a delicate flower, fragile and beautiful. The next moment, he tried to clear his head of the image. (Dangerous, to challenge any opponent with such a preconception.) He would never succeed.
They battled, and she lost.
He approached her to claim his badge. She was stroking her Altaria's majestic crown and wings with a demure resignation. "I'm sorry," she whispered to her partner. "You were magnificent. Someday I'll be worthy." She was frail and lovely, and Wallace had already fallen in love as he received winnings and congratulations. He confidently shook her hand, thanked her for the inspiring battle, congratulated her enthrallingly elegant performance… She protested politely, biting her lip just slightly at the corner. He made every effort to reassure her. Their contest had been so close—he'd admired so much—she had no cause for shame, nothing to regret. The young leader (about his age? a thread older, no more) nodded cautiously, and did not refuse his comfort. He would be delighted and honored if she'd accept an invitation to dinner. "As long as you permit me to pay my own share," she replied, and granted him the first of her heart-stopping smiles.
They talked for hours, each enjoying the companionship. Her eyes followed his, widened as his did, crinkled in pleasure at his jokes. She folded her long hands like soft leaves uncertainly on the table, and he wanted to clasp them secure in his own. Her movements were measured, serene, even more graceful (if it were possible) than his own wide, easy gestures. She brushed a strand of hair back from her face and glowed. She was ethereal, blooming, perfect, rare. He complimented her Pokémon and her battling style. She offered gratifying questions: his travels, his life before, his plans and hopes. "I suppose you'll leave for Mossdeep, then, after today," she remarked, and her eyes held his with a question. Impossible. He needed any reason to stay with her, if for only a little longer.
He was hoping to remain in the area for a while, he told her. Her city was so beautiful, the airy space wondrously free and light. He'd been on the road far too long. He sought to rest and train in a peaceful place before journeying again. He meant to ask—would she allow him to use her gym for the purpose, at least on occasion? "My gym!" she laughed, eyebrows raised. "You've already beaten everyone there." She tilted her head in curiosity. "Most trainers flee this quaint little town in the forest the second they get a chance." He lied and said that, nonetheless, he had sensed today that he had much to learn from everyone there. And then he added, in complete sincerity, "especially from you."
By the time they left the restaurant's glow, a gentle hissing rain had begun beating patterns on the leaves above. He offered his traveling cloak as protection again and again until she accepted, smiling at his persistence. Her hair was already glistening violet damp when she clasped it around her neck and lifted the hood. He watched her off. She floated onto her Altaria, gave a last, shy wave, and ascended into the twilight until he could no longer see her through the canopy, lifted above the earth like falling petals on the evanescent breeze.