A/N: So! I've had this story sitting around for awhile, and it's been eating at me. I plan on making it a multiple chapter thing, hopefully with some heartbreak and drama along the way, but...I'm a little notorious for not updating my stuff. I'm gonna try my best, though! Inspired by the wonderful drawings by alcka on Tumblr! You should really go check her out!

Iki Town in the summer was a beautiful sight. The area was a perfect lush green, Pikipek flew overhead, and young trainers often came by to get their first Pokemon from the Island Kahuna, Hala. The Mahalo Mountain trail was gorgeous as ever, and people paid their respects to the island guardian Tapu Koko regularly. It was picture perfect, and at a glance, could easily be mistaken for an actual photo. The main attraction to Iki Town in summer, however, wasn't for the scenic views or the low-leveled Pokémon. No, the real reason people flocked to the small village was for the sumo wrestling contests that happened in the summer heat.

That same summer heat was beating down on the latest challenger, who was intimidating in his own right. Guzma tugged at his collar uncomfortably as he stood opposite Hala. The humidity here on Melemele took readjusting to; the man much preferred the cooler atmosphere of the rain-soaked Po Town back on Ula'ula. Yet, here he was. Out of his element and out of his comfort zone.

And he despised every moment of it. The people watching, waiting for him to fail, the heat which made him so much more miserable, the fact that he was supposed to learn some kind of lesson from this... Because showcasing his inability to win, his inferior skill, cementing into his mind again that second place was where he belonged, not first as he had dreamed, was supposed to teach him to be a better person? He inwardly scoffed at that.

And the man opposite him, no less than the Melemele Kahuna himself, was the one who orchestrated it all. He hadn't won against the man once. In Pokémon battling, in sumo wrestling, even in Tauros racing- which Guzma swears was rigged against him- Hala had reigned victorious. All the while, the Kahuna had chided him about letting go of winning and losing and just having fun with it all. Which only infuriated Guzma all the more. Why should he listen to virtues about losing from a man who always won? It seemed rather hypocritical to him, to be told there was more to it than winning and losing while never being able to win in the first place.

Which brought him to now. He was supposed to wrestle Hala, and no doubt lose again, with an audience. Tourists, natives, possibly even his old Skull Grunts were in that crowd, all geared up to watch Hala put the bad guy back in his box, to enjoy seeing Guzma fail. And that thought alone got his blood boiling.

The worst part? The old fool was smiling. He was always smiling. But who wouldn't be, when victory was so certain? Guzma clenched his fists as he crouched down, taking the starting position. He was ready. He was going to end this. He was going to come out on top for once, to show Hala who the boss was. To show everyone who the boss was. Every last one of them who came for their show was certainly going to get one.

"Are you ready?" The announcing voice belonged to a cheerful young boy by the name of Hau. He was...okay as far as Guzma was concerned. He couldn't personally understand how someone could be so happy all the time, even as a kid, and he was sure if he spent enough time around the boy, he'd find it grating. As it stood, though, he only had a handful of personal encounters to go off of.

"Yeah," Guzma replied, "Ready when you are."

Hala gave a nod in return. "I'm ready."

The kid jumped excitedly, hands in the air. "Then match start!"

Someone on the sidelines began playing drums as people crowded around to watch, and that was Guzma's signal. He sprung forward, hoping to catch Hala unawares and give him a decent shove towards the ring's edge, to gain some kind of early advantage. But the old Kahuna was ready. Guzma barely avoided getting caught in the larger man's grip, and had to abort his initial move in favor of a sidestep. Getting grabbed by Hala would mean it was all over; unlike a match with anyone else, Guzma's strength was not the superior one here, and he had learned that the hard way many times.

Hala, for his age, was surprisingly quick on his feet. He spun 90 degrees to face his opponent, never once losing sight of him. There was a twinkle in his eye. "You're getting faster, my boy." He said heartily, to which Guzma only snorted. Every compliment felt hollow to him. Like they were bestowed with pity. Instead, the younger man tried a different approach. Feinting left with an open-palmed thrust, Guzma instead moved right, hooking his foot around Hala's ankle and pulling to the side.

The old man stumbled. Now was his chance! He could possibly win this! He went in for the kill and moved to push the Kahuna out of the ring-

-only to be grabbed around the waist and tossed to the floor.

"Match over! Gramps wins!"

A scowl crossed Guzma's face as he heard the crowd cheer. Of course they were cheering. Anything Hala won deserved appreciation. Anything Guzma lost deserved moreso. No one would cheer had he won, no one would want him to be the strongest man in Alola.

"That was a good round." A hand was offered to Guzma, belonging to the victor of the match. The old Kahuna smiled warmly at him. "You did well. I'm impressed."

The smile was not returned. "Yeah. Sure you are." Guzma got to his feet on his own, refusing to take his opponent's hand, and brushed himself off. "I'm real happy about that."

Hala frowned. "Guzma..."

"Save it. I'm gettin' a drink," the younger man said, then hopped down from the wooden stage and began to cleave his way through the crowd.

No one paid him much mind, thankfully. Not like they used to. There was no pathway clearing for him to go through, no stares of the shocked or glares of the condescending. His novelty had worn off as fast as his presence had, and the contempt of the people his gang had antagonized had dulled. But it was dull knives that hurt the worst, and being forgotten so quickly stung more than any slam into the sumo deck could.

And so, he went unopposed to the cooler to grab a soda pop. Too hot for Tapu Cocoa, especially in an atmosphere like this. No, nothing could beat the sweet sting of sugar and carbonation that soda pop had. He popped it open and sat down to chug it, keeping an eye on the Kahuna as he did so and awaiting a lecture on the virtues of learning from your mistakes.

Fortunately for him, however, Hala seemed preoccupied. People around him were congratulating him, and some going so far as to ask for autographs. Tourists were some of the few people Guzma had no interest in at all outside of easy cash. And easy cash it was. All he'd have to do is hang around the docks and wait for some sucker with a belt of six to come by, say he was a bug trainer looking for a good match, and that would be that. Nobody ever took his type specialty seriously, and he was street smart enough to use it to his advantage.

"Tu étais formidable!"

Guzma blinked, stunned. The Kalosian was unmistakable, and the man the voice belonged to approached, smiling at him like a Brionne in a fresh swimming pool. It was...quite honestly unnerving. Especially to someone used to contempt from everyone but Hala and a few clueless kids. "Uh," Guzma glanced around to see if there was anyone else there that the Kalosian man might be speaking to. When he found none, he returned his focus to the person before him, "You talkin' ta me?"

The interestingly dressed man nodded enthusiastically, messy raven hair becoming even more so. "That match was fascinating to watch! I've never seen Alolan sumo before, and your moves were simply incroyable!"

Guzma was taken aback at first, but quickly snapped out of it and rolled his eyes. Clearly, this man had taken pointers from Hala. "Quit patronizing me. Ain't worth the time," he said, taking another swig of his soda.

"Patronizing?" The foreigner's eyes widened. "Non, mon ami, I meant it! The timing of your steps, the strategy those moves must have required and the short time in which you thought them up? I haven't seen anything like that!"

Before Guzma could open his mouth and tell the obvious tourist just where to go for autographs, Hala walked over, evidently done with his fans. "Ah, Professor Sycamore! So good to see you again," He said, lifting up the Kalosian in a bear hug. "How have you been?"

"I've been well, vieil ami," Sycamore replied, laughing. "I see you haven't lost an iota of your strength!"

Hala gave a hearty laugh. "Not a bit! I've still got it!"

"Wait, wait," Guzma interrupted, "'Professor'? As in like, Pokémon Professor? The hotshots with the fancy labs?" Not a tourist, apparently.

"Oui!" Sycamore bowed, a charming smile on his face. "Allow me to introduce myself. Professor Augustine Sycamore of the Kalos region, specializing in Mega Evolution. And you?" He straightened up, offering his hand for a handshake.

Guzma eyed the hand warily, as if it might bite him. He didn't exactly have a good standing with people in positions of power at the moment, even if that power stood in a region as far from Alola as possible. "Name's Guzma. Bug-type specialist." Hala cleared his throat, and the younger man rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, nice ta meetcha," he continued, begrudgingly taking the professor's hand for a handshake.

Augustine Sycamore's next move was completely unanticipated when he instead lifted that hand to kiss it. "Pleasure to meet you as well, mon ami," he said, releasing the hand. As Guzma sat there, stunned silent, the Pokémon Professor turned to Hala as if he'd just done the most normal thing in the world. "Now, if you have a moment, Hala, I'd like to talk?"

Hala nodded. "Of course! I can always make time for a friend. Come, walk with me." With that, he led Augustine down Route 1 to make whatever conversation they planned to have.

Guzma watched them until they were out of sight, then shook his head in disbelief. "Tch...what a weirdo." His gaze fell on the hand the newcomer had taken. Why had he done that? Was that Kalosian tradition? Like the cheek kiss thing he'd seen in movies? Guzma sighed, opting to finish his soda rather than think it over. Thinking about it made his head hurt, anyways.

"So, what was it you wanted to discuss?" Hala asked, strolling down the Pokémon-filled route alongside the young professor.

Augustine waved his hand. "Oh, all manner of things. The implication of Keystones in Z-Rings, the ties between Z-Crystals and Mega Stones, a little pet project I've been working on regarding Zygarde..." He shook his head. "But first, my curiosity's piqued. Who was that man you were wrestling? Guzma? Is he a student of yours?"

"Eh...not exactly." Hala scratched his cheek as he searched for the right words. "He's...more like a reluctant apprentice."

"Reluctant? Pourquoi?"

The old Kahuna sighed. "He's...he used to lead one of the most notorious gangs in the Alola region until about a few months ago. I've taken him under my wing to reform him. I'm trying to teach him that there's more to life than winning and being in control, but..." He rubbed his neck. "My efforts so far have been unsuccessful. He doesn't take my advice, and no matter how many times I attempt to teach, all he returns with is bitterness. I'm at my wit's end with that boy."

Augustine pondered it for a moment. While it was true that he had nowhere near the experience Hala did with these sorts of things- he was closer to Guzma's age himself, perhaps younger- he couldn't help but hear a few key resemblances in Hala's description to an old friend of his. "Guzma...is a passionate type, non? He gets very invested in outcomes, holds his own ideals above all else?"

Hala's eyebrows raised in surprise. "That is...a surprisingly accurate description. You're a good judge of character, Sycamore."

"I've had a bit of practice," the Kalosian said with a smile. "Let me have a go at it. I think I can get through to him."

"Professor, Guzma's not an easygoing person. He's hot-tempered, easily annoyed, and highly impulsive," the Kahuna warned.

Augustine's smile brightened. "Ne t'inquiète pas, Hala. It's nothing I can't handle." He waved his hand. "I've had experience with Mega-Evolved Pokémon. He can't be more temperamental than a Mega Garchomp."

Hala frowned, considering it. "If you're certain, Sycamore. I trust your judgement." He eyed the young professor curiously. "What are you going to do?"

The grin he got in return was startlingly bright, especially given his next words. "I have no idea!"

Guzma had decided to call it quits for the day not too long after Hala and Augustine had left. Sticking around likely meant another inspirational speech followed by training in the ring, and he had had enough of that to last him a lifetime. No, two lifetimes.

So, here he found himself, in the middle of Hau'Oli city with nothing to do. Which was nearly as bad, because he was exactly the kind of person who couldn't afford to be seen loitering.

Not that there was much option for that, either. Hau'Oli, for being a tourist port, was a bit on the small side. A mini-mall, a tourist bureau, a malasada shop, a trainer's school, a police outpost, a Pokémon Center, and a handful of houses were what graced the city. And given that he wasn't much for fashion and was banned from the school, that didn't leave him much to go for.

Today was a sunny summer day, however. Which meant the beach would likely have plenty of tourists itching for a good battle to show off their "rare" Pokémon. He could make some easy money, go to the Route 2 Pokémon Center for a celebratory Tapu Cocoa, then head home and watch television. And if his old man had a problem with it, he could wave the wad of ₱ in his face and that would be that.

Plus, his Golisopod could probably find a few star pieces and pearls. And the Route 2 Center was one of the few that wouldn't give him the evil eye when selling items.

Beachcombing it is.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and walked down to the Hau'Oli shore, looking for the most gullible tourists there. "Let's see..." He glanced them over. "Eenie...meenie...miney...you." He strolled over to his target, a young man in Hoennian apparel. "Yo."'

"Yes?" The man asked, turning to face him. Yep, just as he had suspected- full belt.

Guzma took a hand out of his pocket, rolling an Ultra Ball between his fingers. "Ya locked eyes with me. Battle rules say that's good enough to challenge you." He pressed the button, making the ball grow to full size. "So, I challenge ya to a battle. You accept?"

The Hoennian raised an eyebrow. "Do you specialize?"

"Mhm. Bug type."

He felt a fleeting spark of anger as the Hoennian stifled a snicker. "Alright. You're on. Stakes?"

"5000₱."

"Deal. Get ready to pay up."

Guzma grinned, stepping back to give them room. "Right back atcha."

"Salamence, go!"

The blue dragon-type appeared in a flash. Guzma crouched down, getting into his battle stance, and pressed the button on the Ultra Ball, letting the Pokémon inside free. "Pod, you're up."

The expression of confusion on the Hoennian's face when Guzma's Golisopod appeared was priceless. He'd never seen one before- which was further evidenced by his next move. "Salamence, Flamethrower!"

The blast of fire hit Pod without too much damage- barely over a fifth of his health gone. High level Salamence, then. "First Impression."

Pod darted forward with blinding speed, claws striking Salamence and doing significant damage. The dragon reared back and roared, enraged.

"Dragon Claw!"

"Sucker Punch!"

The two fierce Pokémon met in the middle to exchange blows, claws colliding. Guzma watched closely for the damage signs- Pod was still a decent bit above using his ability, and the opposing Salamence was looking none too well. And the expression on his opponent's face? Good. He was unsure. Now to throw him off even more. "Finish it up with Waterfall!"

The trainer's expression shifted to one of panic at that remark, as all strategy went out the window to try to get the first move. "Brick Break!"

The amateur move hit Pod, who made no move to dodge. Not that he had to. Guzma smirked maliciously. "Not very effective, pal."

The Waterfall his Golisopod summoned hit Salamence at point blank range, landing a critical and knocking it out easily. The Hoennian scowled as he recalled his prime Pokémon. "Well, I know you're part water now. Manectric, go!"

Out came the blue and gold canine Pokémon, crackling with electricity.

Alright. Pod's a bad match for this, but he could work with it. The problem would be the speed. He was already picking out the next Pokémon to send as he called out the next move. "Pod, Waterfall!"

"Thunder Fang!"

There was no way Golisopod could outrun a Manectric. Electric-types were typically built for speed. Manectric ran like the lightning it was said to gather under, biting into Pod's arm before an attack could form, the damage made triggering the Bug-type's ability. Guzma pocketed the Pokéball before sending out his next choice. "Sting, you got this."

Guzma's Ariados appeared in a flash, snapping its mandibles menacingly. The Hoenn trainer looked relieved- apparently he recognized this Pokémon. "Manectric, Wild Charge!"

"Sting, Cross-Poison!"

Manectric charged up with electricity and smacked into Ariados. And while Guzma's Pokemon wasn't fast enough to dodge, he noted with satisfaction that Manectric couldn't either; not at this close of a range. Sting's mandibles struck fierce and fast, dripping with burning poison and doing an extreme amount of damage. Paired up with the recoil from Wild Charge, Guzma figured another move like that would break the opposing Pokémon.

Evidently, the Hoenn Trainer did as well. "Manectric, return!" he called, drawing Manectric back into the ball in a beam of red light. "Go, Camerupt!"

Guzma's eyes narrowed. A Ground/Fire-type did not bode well for Sting, and he knew it. But he wouldn't be who he was if he let his Pokémon go down without a fight, or drew them back as much as possible.

"Eruption!"

That's a knockout move at this much strength, and he knew it. "Sucker Punch!"

Ariados faithfully ran forward, striking Camerupt with a dark-veiled leg before being knocked out by the explosive force. With a tense glare at the trainer, Guzma called his Bug-type back, sending out his Masquerain. "Alright, Mercutio, show 'em what'cha got!"

The Flying-type appeared with a flourish, and Guzma barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Always with the drama, Mercutio. "Hit 'em with Air Slash!"

Mercutio waved his wings, then darted to strike, cutting with a slice of air strong enough to be physical.

"Counter with Eruption!"

The opposing Camerupt launched its attack a moment too late, the Air Slash hitting first. Camerupt's strength was practically expended, and the resulting Eruption barely so much as scratched Mercutio. Guzma grinned as the tables turned in his favor again. "Bug Buzz!"

Mercutio thrummed his wings, sending off a vibration, and the weakened Camerupt didn't stand a chance. It was down before the move was over. The Masquerain hovered, giving a triumphant trill.

His opponent scowled, calling Camerupt back and sending Manectric out again. "Manectric, finish this guy off! Wild Charge!"

Guzma smirked. "Give 'em another Bug Buzz, Merc."

Manectric charged up with electricity, then charged, just as Mercutio was prepping to buzz his wings again. The resulting damage the Masquerain took, however, wasn't enough to keep his rage contained. He gave an indignant screech and buzzed his wings, letting out a hum that hurt even Guzma's ears. The poor Manectric covered its own sensitive ears, letting out a whine before falling unconscious.

The Alolan rubbed the side of his head. "Sheesh...lay off on the buzzing, Merc. Gonna wear out my ears." The apologetic hum he got in reply was insincere, and he knew it. As if Mercutio was ever going to apologize for his performance.

The tourist trainer was looking progressively agitated. "Glalie, go!" he called, sending out the Ice-type. Seemed he'd gotten a bit of strategy down after all, rather than muscling through it all. "Blizzard!"

"Bug Buzz!"

Mercutio's speed came in handy as he whipped up another symphony, striking the Glalie with the piercing soundwaves before the icy storm could hit him. But that didn't do much about the itself. Despite hitting Glalie with significant enough damage to weaken it, the gale it had whipped up was enough to down the dramatic Bug-type. Guzma's expression shifted slightly as he called back his third Pokémon. He wasn't expecting to have this much trouble. Was this someone who'd been on a gym run? He shook his head- that didn't matter. What mattered was that he had the perfect counter to an Ice-type like Glalie in his arsenal. "Blades, your turn!"

A Scizor appeared, wings fluttering and claws at the ready. Of all his Pokémon, Blades had been the hardest to train. And Guzma was very proud of the accomplishment of training him. "Let's beat this chump down, Blades! Iron Head!"

"Blizzard again!"

It would all come down to speed. And Blades was just marginally faster than the Glalie he was up against. A quick headbutt to the Ice-type's skull brought it down with a crash, and Blades landed expertly, unscathed.

"Flygon!"

Oh, now this was getting interesting. Everyone had heard about Flygon, and the craze to get them out in the Hoenn region. Unfortunately for the opposing trainer, a Ground/Dragon-type wouldn't be able to use its advantage over Steel on a Bug-type, Guzma reasoned to himself with a smirk.

Which quite frankly might have escaped the young trainer's mind. "Use Earthquake!"

The ground shook, and Guzma fought to steady himself. A few onlookers from the beach shot the battlers sour looks as they struggled to keep balance, but Blades toughed through it, taking a fair chunk of damage. Guzma regained his footing. "X-Scizzor!"

The retaliating blow was staggering to watch. Flygon, down to a mere fraction of its health, fought to keep its pride. The bug trainer grinned, sure of his victory now. "Iron Head!"

"Dragon Rush!"

Blades went seemingly unfazed by the fierce display Flygon took on while attacking, biding his time and taking the damage inflicted before ending the Flygon's round with a well-timed headbutt.

The Hoennian gave his last ball a nervous glance. Guzma knew that look. Type disadvantage. "You callin' it forfeit?"

"Never!" the tourist fired back. "Gardevoir, go!"

Guzma fought the urge to laugh out loud as the Psychic/Fairy-Type appeared. That was quite possibly the worst thing to pit against a Scizor like Blades. "A'ight, if ya say so. Blades, Bullet Punch!"

"Gardevoir, dodge and use Psychic!"

Gardevoir never stood a chance. Blades was faster, and Blades was more powerful. One hit from the steely claws, and the elegant Pokémon was done for- the match was over.

Guzma recalled his Bug-type and strode over to the scowling Hoennian, holding out his hand. "Cash please."

The trainer rolled his eyes, handing over a stack of ₱. Guzma took a moment to count through the bills, then grinned. "Pleasure doing business." He gave a mock salute, then walked off, pocketing the money as he went. He could feel the stares of the beachgoers on his back. The awe, the shock, the fear...he loved it. This was how it should be. Those cocky foreigners respecting his presence, not daring to think themselves higher than him.

This was where he got his kicks nowadays. Reminding each fresh batch of newcomers that their rare Pokémon were nothing to a team of bugs, and then reveling in the satisfaction when he got the opportunity to put them in their place. People had laughed at him when he'd first started as a trainer. But Big Bad Guzma would always have the last laugh here, even if it was chasing the fleeting echoes of his former strength. He didn't need Skull to be intimidating. He was his own army.

And he liked it that way.