The next time she ran into Gladion, Sol was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

And by that, she meant Kukui and Hau. But Kukui was playing as some character – Masked Royal, is that what he was called? – and Hau was certain it couldn't be the professor, because why would the professor partake in battle royals? Sol didn't know, either, but it was obvious it was Kukui, Arceus.

"You, yes, you over there! Come join us in a battle royal!" Kukui – err, Masked Royal – called out towards the blond. Sol glanced toward the boy, who somehow looked even shadier than the last time she met him. Hands in his pockets, Type: Null by his side, he sauntered toward the group of three, eyes cast towards Sol in a permanent glare. She could feel contempt radiating off him.

Yikes. Did she do this?

As he passed her, she couldn't help but shiver.


The battle was an absolute failure on her part. She had sent out her freshly caught mareanie, thinking that battle royals would be like the free for all's back home.

She was dead wrong, of course.

Gladion had gotten his revenge, knocking out her mareanie in an instant, and had won the battle royal in seconds. Coming out, head hung low, Sol couldn't help but sigh. Well, he should feel better, at least.

Wait. Why do I care how that punk feels?

Hau commented on how grumpy Gladion was, emitting a "tch" from the blond. Sol could only wonder what Lillie would say if she met the grump. She would more than likely berate him, she figured. It would have been a hilarious sight.

Exiting the Battle Royal Dome after the fire trial captain, Kiawe, introduced himself, complementing the trainers on the "heated battle" – really? – Sol headed down to the center of Royal Avenue. Her pokemon deserved a good rest and some malasada.

As she passed the fountain surrounded by pink flowers, Sol saw the familiar blond on a bench, a piece of paper in hand, with a murkrow sitting beside him. Curiosity overwhelming the girl once again, she scooted behind a nearby tree. A breeze blew past, rolling the clouds in front of the soon to be setting sun. What was he doing? Sending a letter to someone?

Oh, Zapdos, he's actually sending a letter. He rolled the paper up, tying it carefully to the murkrow's foot. A small smile could be seen poking its way onto his face as he pat the murkrow affectionately, and Sol's heart skipped a beat. Shit, abort mission, he's cute when he's smiling –

And then he looked up, eyes locking with hers.

Sol "eeped", pushing herself away from the tree and sprinting towards the pokemon center. Great, now she was seen being a weirdo. A creeping weirdo. The girl sighed as she strolled through the entrance, timidly asking the nurse to take her pokemon. She flopped onto the couch nearby, another loud sigh escaping her lips.

There was no valid reason for her to act the way she did. She slapped her cheeks, curled up at the corner of the couch. She needed Hau to drill some sense into her. Yes. That would be a good, good thing.

He was attractive. Mysterious. Alternative, which somehow wooed her. She bit her cheek. But why? He was a member of Team Skull.

He's a member of Team Skull, you fuckface.

But he was kind to pokemon. Undoubtedly so. And if she remembered hearing the grunts right, back on route five, he had stopped them from stealing the wishiwashi from Lana's trial.

Sol frowned.

What is up with this dude?


Gladion didn't even want to question why that trainer was staring at him from behind a tree. Was she scared of him?

Probably.

He gave the murkrow one last pat before sending it off back to his twin, wondering how she was doing. She was supposed to be close by, he knew. Was supposed to meet up with Wicke, as according to her letter. And yet those trainers had half the mind to leave her back in Heahea all alone.

If Lillie supposedly had cosmog – no, Nebby, she was calling it – she was in danger. His heart clenched, unaware of what to do. He hadn't seen her in two years. Certainly, they tried to keep in touch in secret with the murkrow he had caught, but letters were few and far between.

And now she had run away, just like he did.

He stood up and began walking towards the pokemon center. The wind was beginning to pick up, bending the tall trees to its will. Null and zubat would need a decent rest before they headed back to the hotel. It wasn't much of a bother to walk around the islands as he typically did for missions for Team Skull. In fact, it was relaxing.

Mind you, even Team Skull was relaxing compared to the hell hole he had come from.

His thoughts wandered back towards the girl who was, as far as Lillie was concerned, a saint. He thought she was rather stuck up, truth be told, but she was a good trainer.

Her pokemon seemed to like her, at least.

Gladion was only mildly pissed when he saw her at the Battle Royal Dome. It wasn't even because she had kicked his ass a few days prior – it was because Lillie was nowhere to be seen. And that joyful brat was there as well. That only soured his mood a little more.

He entered the pokemon center, taking note of the trainers lazing about. Half of them were regulars at the battle dome, he noticed, almost tripping over himself when his eyes landed on the trainer who had invaded his thoughts moments ago.

She was curled up at the corner of the couch, lavender-brown hair piled on top of her head, book in one hand, cold beverage in the other. Her torracat was asleep next to her, curled on his back, limbs stuck in the air. She was completely absorbed in whatever it was she was reading, and he swore his heart had decided to stop working for a second.

Did it scare him, or was there something else to it?

He looked away, recomposing himself. After dropping his pokemon at the front desk, he grabbed a juice box for himself from the cafeteria, sitting a few seats across and over from the girl.

She was lost in whatever text she was going through. It's probably a cheesy romance novel, he guessed. That's what Plumeria normally reads, anyway. His eyes drifted toward the window she sat in front of – evening was coming, swallowing up what was left of the colourful day. The wind was fierce, pulling papers and small items along with it, as a stressed mother would to her kids to get them to school on time.

And then the lights went out with a whirr of energy, draping a blanket of darkness over the occupants in the pokemon center. Gasps erupted from the crowd, and Gladion saw Sol shift ever so slightly, grabbing onto her torracat.


Sol gasped as she heard the power give out, darkness enshrouding the pokemon center. She instinctively grabbed hold of Mocha, and glanced around the center, hoping everything was alright. Without any white noise from the TVs, the wind could be heard whipping violently behind her. She shivered, suddenly aware of the fact she was dressed in nothing but shorts and a tank top.

Her eyes landed on Gladion, not too far away from herself, and signalled to Mocha she was moving. Grabbing her book, she took a breath and moved over to where he sat, taking a seat beside him.

"So, what brings you here this gloomy evening?" She questioned casually, ignoring the embarrassment she felt from earlier. As awkward as their… relationship was, it was better than being alone in the dark.

He took a while to respond, be it from shock or disgust, Sol couldn't tell. "I'm certain every trainer has to go to a center at some point." His lips curled up slightly, though he didn't bother looking in her general direction. "Is there a reason you came over here?"

Sol bit her lip, muffling a curse as Mocha jumped up onto her lap and began kneading her. "Truth be told, I'm terrified of the dark."

This caused Gladion to turn and look at her, shock etched upon his face – a look that screamed "you're actually admitting that?"

"You really are careless," he muttered, head turning toward the desk, hoping null and zubat were alright. He stood, then, realizing it was much faster to go check up on them rather than ponder. With a quick "I'll be back," he walked off.

Sol was confused.

Mind you, wasn't she always, as of late?

Petting Mocha, she watched Gladion's figure as he glided over to the front desk, footsteps soundless. He was certainly good at not drawing attention to himself, she noted.

Yet, he had managed to draw her attention.