Chapter 36 The Divided Horsemen

N was growing impatient in that glittering, golden room. He had cleared the Unovan Elite Four just earlier that day with the help of Zekrom. The deep black pokémon easily swept their teams. He was quite underwhelmed if he was perfectly honest. Only the Dark-type Elite Four member, Grimsley, had given him any trouble at all. Yet, something was bothering him, and that was why he was pacing the length of the golden battlefield within the Champion's Chamber. He shut his eyes, opening them only occasionally to make sure he didn't fall off the edge of the battlefield. The room was incredibly bright, and the gleaming, metallic surfaces meant the natural light spilling in from outside was reflected all over the place. It made his eyes ache.

Caitlin had been asleep when he had arrived and, irritated, N had asked Zekrom to roar her awake. It reluctantly agreed and let out a fearsome snarl. Caitlin had been terrified as she leapt from her bed, and she refused to look at him. She held her head as if she were in agony, but after a few minutes, she wordlessly sent forward her first pokémon, and their battle was on. She was very aloof and spacey throughout the battle. N appreciated her silent nature. He really hated it when the Pokémon League Staff tried to talk to him about his goals. He couldn't shake the feeling something was wrong with her, but he'd forced himself to move on. He didn't have time to falter, much less so to help someone like an Elite Four member, one of the most prominent advocates for the regular abuse of pokémon.

Marshal had begged N to have mercy and to stop, to really think this over; he had been the most trying for N to deal with, mentally. His team was easily taken care of, but the way he genuinely cared for his team made it difficult to handle watching them go down one by one under Zekrom's ferocious, electrified fangs. N had winced when the Fighting-type trainer had quietly said that he had Alder to thank for how he had learned to care for his pokémon, and again when the man begged N to please not hurt Alder. It had bothered N immensely that this man thought he intended to harm his friend… N had set his jaw and shook his head, "I intend no bodily harm on Champion Alder. That's not part of this equation." For Marshal, N felt a pang of anger at himself for having been so soft with him. Zekrom had encouragingly told him not to fret over feeling that way, that it was understandable, and so N's mind was eased somewhat.

Shauntal had been frightened much like Caitlin, and vexingly tried to make conversation, as if she were probing his mind. N had given her no satisfaction by refusing to respond to her prying questions. Her battling style was awkward and unsophisticated, like she was unused to her current team, and she occasionally scrawled something down on a tiny notepad in her palm. N had grown more and more frustrated with her as their battle drew on and had eventually lost his temper. "Your pokémon are suffering in battle because you keep pausing to write!" he had snarled at her, the words only just barely understandable by human ears. He had a terrible habit of slipping into the tongue of Zoroark when he was frustrated. "Focus on this battle! At least act like you care for them!" Shauntal had flinched under his harsh words, immediately dropping the notepad and pen, and she focused on the battle from then on. There were no more words from her following his outburst.

Grimsley, however, showed no fear when N approached him and let out Zekrom. He had tossed his yellow scarf back around his neck and flicked a coin at N's feet. He had asked N, "Heads or tails?" N had leaned down and picked the coin up, and then flicked it back at him. He hadn't understood the question and so, he left it unanswered. That seemed to provide the Dark-type user with some form of an answer, though, since he pursed his lips thoughtfully as the coin clanged to the floor in front of his feet. He had clearly cared for his pokémon and for the battle, carrying himself through it with much more finesse than his three counterparts. When N pointed that out to him following his victory, since Grimsley grew quite aggravated at his loss, Grimsley had merely told him they each understood they were going to lose to him. They had been designed to simply buy time for Champion Alder as well as the New Hero of Truths.

He didn't know which of them had gotten under his skin. Maybe all of them had to some degree. Zekrom, standing nearby, reached his head down and gently pressed the end of its muzzle to N's chest, forcing him to a stop. Squinting against the brightness, N lightly touched a hand to the pokémon's muzzle. Yes? N inquired.

You're nervous. Be still. Moving like that will only make you more anxious… Zekrom nuzzled his chest harder. My old friend used to do that often. He used it to make others anxious as well…

N nodded slowly as he looked Zekrom in its red eyes. He wasn't sure if he liked Zekrom's constant comparisons to his old friend. He supposed he couldn't blame it, though. Zekrom had loved that human dearly and even after all this time, it still cared deeply for them… That, too, unsettled N deeply. Zekrom had been hurt so by that man, but it still cared, and he couldn't understand why… He said nothing about it, instead he offered a meek, Thank you, Zekrom… He began to stroke the side of Zekrom's face.

"N!" a ragged voice blustered from the stairway leading up to the golden battlefield. N jerked his face to see the source of the noise and Zekrom narrowed its eyes at the approaching challenger. Champion Alder hauled himself across the final step with considerable effort. He was struggling for breath.

"It's been so long since you've climbed the stairs to your own quarters in the Pokémon League that you are out of breath," N commented dryly. "Fascinating."

N knew of Champion Alder's story. Unlike many other important figures in Unova, who were taught to N by the Sages, Ghetsis himself had told N about Alder. He had explained that Alder became mad with power after ascending to the title of Champion of Unova and had dragged a sick Volcarona with him to train a year after that. Despite warnings from multiple friends and colleagues, Alder took the trip anyway, and the Volcarona died during his journey through Twist Mountain. Since then, he had wandered Unova on foot, discouraging others from ever chasing the dream of becoming Champion so he could save others from knowing that lust for power. Ghetsis' lesson was that in the existent culture between pokémon and people, the latter suffered as well. Humans were so cruel by nature they could even harm themselves a great deal. So, as N overlooked Alder, he felt a mix of disdain and pity. As he had said, Alder was fascinating to him. A rare glimpse into the human factor that N often ignored.

"This isn't about me," Alder puffed as he took a stance on the other end of the battlefield. Zekrom snorted at him disbelievingly. "This is about all the pokémon out there that believe in and love their trainers, and all the trainers that cherish and care for their pokémon. I can't stand down and let you just take my position. Gym Challenger N, your final opponent in the Unovan Pokémon League is me, Champion Alder!"

N nodded. "I wish you wouldn't put your pokémon in harm's way for no reason," he sighed, "because we both know you will lose. But I must admire your tenacity, Champion Alder… Fine, then. Let us put our beliefs on the line! Zekrom, are you willing?"

Zekrom's tail whirred and glowed with neon blue electricity as it leaned forward and bellowed angrily at Alder. Even without deciphering its roar, N understood it had agreed. He gingerly touched a hand to Zekrom's right arm. Alder sent forward a Bouffalant and it scraped its hooves against the glossy floor upon exiting the Poké Ball, unfazed by Zekrom's size and stature.

"I've learned from my mistakes," Champion Alder called, his voice faltering with the effort, "and I believe in my pokémon. Even if we can't beat you, we couldn't live with ourselves if we didn't try. Bouffalant, Earthquake!"

Zekrom, can you please Bolt Strike it? A quick faint… I don't want his pokémon to suffer for this last stand of his, N communicated wordlessly with Zekrom. It nodded its head slightly at N, and then off it went to perform the devastating maneuver.

And so, the battle for title of Champion of Unova was on.

It had been well into the evening by the time Hil was able to drag himself to face the Elite Four. Another black-clad League Staff informed him that the Elite Four were still in their chambers for the day, so he could proceed. When Hil questioned why he'd felt the need to specify that, the uniformed man had shrugged his shoulders and said, "Ah, just that usually about this time they head out for a little while, or quit taking challengers. They live here but they have lives outside of it, you know." Hil had nodded, a little embarrassed, and then he and Cheren were admitted into the massive building.

It was downright intimidating. The building was made of ancient stone and the occasional gilding of brass or gold, and it was incredibly dark toward the entrances to each of the Elite Four's chambers. The only light seemed to be sunlight leaking through the glassless windows. Noticing his hesitation, Cheren stopped just ahead of Hil, at the foot of the statue in the middle of the room, and tilted his head. "So… I think the only one you really have super-effective moves against is Elite Four Marshal due to your Musharna. I'd recommend we take care of him first."

"Yeah. That's a good idea… Cheren?" Hil licked his clammy lips as he fought the quickening of his breath. He really wished he didn't get so anxious…

"Yeah?"

"I'm gonna need your help battling these guys. I'm a mess of nerves and this is the Elite Four. I didn't even technically battle Brycen or Drayden," Hil laughed weakly. "If you spot me doing something weird or think of a better way to take 'em down as I'm battling, please. Say something."

A slight smile tugged at Cheren's lips and his slate eyes lit up. "Of course," was all he answered with.

So, into Marshal's chambers they ascended. Although it was dark inside, Hil could see at the foot of the tall chamber, there was a bed, various dressers, a desk, a television, and exercise equipment everywhere. The stairwell from the Pokémon League's main floor led directly to a raised platform surrounded by ropes, like a wrestling ring. Hil thought it was so odd that the Elite Four actually lived there… He supposed it made sense. They were required to face challengers at completely random times, and it likely just made it easier on them as well as any challengers. But he had to wonder what they even did while there when there were no challengers. It was no secret that few challengers ever even made it to the Elite Four of Unova… Once he and Cheren finally stopped at the top of that stairwell, they spotted the burly Marshal seated against the ground. He had a hand on his forehead and looked so… defeated, with one of his knees hugged tight against his chest.

"E-Elite Four… Marshal?" Hil chanced when Marshal failed to react to their entrance.

"Are you the Holder of the Light Stone?" Marshal asked without moving.

"Yeah…" Hil glanced at Noodle and the Servine handed him the glowing orb with his tendrils. He moved it around some for Marshal to see.

Marshal grunted at the sight of the stone and staggered to his feet. "Then I guess it's a battle. Alder explained everything. He said that I should go easier on you to save your strength for battles against N. I've only got four pokémon on me right now, but you can use all six of yours as needed."

He sounded so somber. Throughout their battle, Marshal commonly mentioned Alder, to the point Hil had even more difficulty concentrating than he already would have due to nerves. It was clear Marshal held the champion in high regard. Thanks to his wandering focus, Cheren frequently interjected with orders for Sleepy on his behalf. The Musharna didn't respond to him, of course, but it would snap Hil out of his stupor and he'd blurt out the order for an attack almost without thinking. Hil would then awkwardly grin at Cheren or give him a tentative thumbs-up to make sure he felt appreciated for his efforts. After all, he'd learned that was really what Cheren craved. Every time, his friend would seem to puff out his chest proudly as he was recognized.

His tactic with Sleepy was much the same as it always had been: Yawn and then Psybeam them again and again. It meant that Marshal's pokémon rarely got in more than a hit or two before they would fall unconscious, and they were free to finish them off. The battle wasn't so much difficult as it was grueling due to the amount of time it took. Hil was keenly aware of just how outclassed he was… He would have never beat this Elite Four member if he hadn't intentionally downgraded his team.

After an exhausting 45 minutes, the battle was over, and Hil was panting while Sleepy wobbled uneasily in midair. She had taken quite a few blows even with the Yawn tactic. Hil praised her and rubbed her side affectionately, then recalled her. Marshal similarly reassured his downed Conkeldurr. As he stood back up, Marshal said, "Please. Stop N and make sure he doesn't hurt Alder."

"He won't hurt him," Hil mumbled in a forced tone of kindness. He didn't want to get into an argument here with Marshal, but he had to admit, hearing someone deify Alder and then fear N so much was upsetting. It reminded him just how little everyone else seemed to know about the situation… and how so few would believe him even if he tried to explain. In a way, Hil still felt as if he might have been the only one going after N for more reasons than one. Of course he didn't want N to separate pokémon from humans and the thought of him doing so was a terrifying one, not to mention he was sure Ghetsis merely wanted to use it to make most of Unova powerless against him, but he also wanted to help N. Where most saw an enemy, Hil recognized someone in desperate need… and intended to make sure he did all he could. Recognizing what was wrong, he had learned, was not enough.

Next up was Caitlin. She wasn't nearly as personable or interested in talking as Marshal had been. She had weakly claimed that she couldn't talk right then, just battle, and so, battle they did. She acted like she had a migraine. Even with her diminished team of four, consisting of a Reuniclus, Musharna, Sigilyph, and Gothitelle, Hil struggled. Right away, he had sent out Noodle, hoping to rely on Noodle's swiftness and intelligence to make up for his wavering focus and lack of firepower. With Cheren's occasional guidance and Noodle's own merit, they persevered to Caitlin's final pokémon, her Gothitelle.

"Gothitelle…" Caitlin trailed off as she attempted to give the order. She hung her head in her hands and sat on the edge of a queen-sized bed at the edge of her arena. Gothitelle shot her a quizzical look, and then narrowed its icy blue eyes at Noodle. Its entire face started to glow slightly, but nothing happened… nothing Hil could see, anyway.

"It just used Calm Mind!" Cheren hollered from the sidelines. He then gave Caitlin a dirty look. "Which sharply raises special attacking power. Watch for those attacks. I don't know if Noodle can afford to get hit by any more of those at that power."

"Thanks," Hil called to him with a sincere nod. "Noodle, Leaf Blade! And watch out!"

The Servine lowered his head slightly and raised his tail high above his head. It emanated a soft green as the leaves flattened to his body, hardening it in preparation for the blow. He rushed at Gothitelle and flipped in midair, bringing his tail down across its face. There was a bright flash of green as his tail connected with her, and then a flourish of blackish-purple light swallowed up the arena.

"Noodle?" Hil called after the smoky air failed to dissipate. Hil's left foot was suddenly knocked from beneath him and he slammed to the floor of the arena, only just barely catching himself with his hands, but not fast enough to stop his chin from hitting the hard floor violently. His vision doubled as he felt a sharp pain dig into his lower lip. He knew even before he tasted the sharp tang of blood his teeth had busted his lip. He gingerly touched his tongue to the roof of his mouth and was glad to find he hadn't clipped it at all.

"Hil! You okay?" He knew that was Cheren, and that he was right next to him, but he sounded miles away, as if through a long tunnel.

Turning a teetering gaze to where he had been standing just a moment before, Hil saw Noodle laying there in a heap, as if he had been thrown. Coughing against the blood in his mouth, Hil shakily reached to touch Noodle's limp form. As his fingers met the cool touch of his leafy body, Noodle stiffly raised his head and blinked bleary, crimson eyes at his trainer. "You okay?" Hil gasped.

"What was that?" Cheren was shouting at Caitlin and her Gothitelle. "This is a battle! You just hurt the challenger!"

"I'm not used to this kind of stress!" Caitlin howled back at him sorrowfully. "I lapsed in attention and… my power got the better of me… I'm sorry…"

"Power? What are you talking about?" Cheren groaned.

Their voices faded from his attention as Noodle weakly moved to press his head against Hil's palm. Hil's voice cracked as he laughed. "Good. I'm glad you're alright…" He swore he saw the Servine smile briefly before a soft glow enveloped him from head to tail. Too enamored by what he was seeing, Hil couldn't pull his hand away, and felt it get pushed by something from within the lightshow. As quickly as it had begun, it was over, and the emerald glow dissolved. Hil stared in awe.

Pressed against his palm now was the massive, angular head of a Serperior. Sharp, slanted red eyes bored into Hil and he could see for certain he was smiling now. Hil beamed back at him and picked himself up off the floor, throwing his arms out around Noodle. He was so much bigger now… He easily dwarfed Hil's height by at least four and a half feet, and his body was so long, he had to coil it around himself slightly. He was still clearly weak from the battle against Caitlin, but he was by no means done yet. Hil felt a dribble of something wet against his chin and rubbed it away with his hand, grimacing at the red stain that reminded him he was bleeding. At that sight, Noodle's attention snapped to the Gothitelle still patiently waiting on the other end of the arena, and he growled a deep, rumbling sound that sent cold chills up Hil's spine.

Without waiting for the word from Hil, Noodle slithered across the arena with frightening speed and lashed its massive tail across the Gothitelle, sending it flying into the headboard of Caitlin's bed. There was a sickening crack as the wood fractured and the Gothitelle didn't dare get back up. Caitlin, still holding her head in her hands, recalled her pokémon wordlessly and started to snap at Hil and Cheren to get out. Having no idea what had really happened in there, Hil was more than happy to oblige her, and he dragged Cheren by his arm to follow him back out.

Once back in the main room of the Pokémon League, Hil had excitedly whooped and hugged Noodle's broad neck again. Noodle trilled, his voice noticeably much deeper than before, and curled his head around Hil's neck in his own version of a hug. "You're so big now, buddy!" Hil exclaimed. As if to emphasize his point, Noodle pulled Hil even closer with his muzzle, forcing Hil to stumble forward. "And much stronger, I see," he snickered. When he was done, Cheren offered him a black handkerchief.

"For your lip, you're still bleeding," Cheren's face screwed up a little as he looked Hil over. "…Badly. You hit the floor hard, man. Are you okay?"

"Thanks," Hil winced at the stinging pain it brought to speak, "I'll be okay. Just split the skin…" He cleaned himself up as much as he could, though some of it had already dried to his skin, and the lack of damp rag and the sensitive injury meant he couldn't quite scrub it off. He had nothing to see his reflection with, but Hil was sure he looked like hell. His hair was a clumped mess and he knew he smelled bad, and now, he was dusted with his own blood across his chin and hands. "My first order of business when we get out of here," Hil said, shaking his head, "is for me to take a shower." Thanking Cheren anyway, he pocketed the handkerchief and off they went to face the next Elite Four member, Ghost-type user Shauntal.

"Your Simipour knows Bite, right?" Cheren was asking earnestly as they made their way up to her chambers. Hers seemed even darker than the others somehow, and eerie, purple flames lit the stairs up to her arena. Hil could only nod in response to Cheren. His lip had started to swell, and he didn't really want to speak unless he needed to. "Ghost-types are weak to Dark-type, so you should try that, have him use Scald to weaken them first and possibly get a burn in, then take them out with Bite," Cheren suggested. Hil liked the upbeat cadence to his voice. It sounded like he was enjoying offering the advice, especially since Hil was more than happy to use it.

When they finally saw Shauntal, she was seated at a desk, furiously scribbling into a notebook. There were several other notebooks stacked haphazardly nearby, all various assortments of color, and an ungodly number of books were tossed around the edges of her arena. As they entered, Hil stepped on a squeaky board in the floor, and Shauntal jumped and dropped her pen. "Sorry," she puffed, hand over her chest, "I just needed to write some stuff down after the challenger that was just here…" She scrambled from behind her desk, knocking a few books down as she went. She cursed and bent down to lift them back up. Regaining her composure, she stepped out to face Hil. "He had eyes brimming with dark flame, and this man rejected everything other than himself in order to bring about one singular justice… He was inspiring…" She stared off into space for a second and put a hand over her chest. Somberly, her gaze fell to the floor. "Sorry, got a little sad thinking about something… You're the one I'm supposed to be battling, then?"

Surprised, Hil tilted his head at her. He was shocked to find someone in the League that didn't hate N right away. He nodded to her and after a short exchange of words, the battle was on. Hil sent forth Crest the Simipour, and Shauntal led with a Cofagrigus.

It was a refreshingly calm battle. Shauntal seemed to be doing everything in her power to help Hil out, ordering her pokémon to use low-power moves, and Crest was able to easily dispatch most with a few Scalds and Bites. He felt guilty, watching them suffer like that, but he knew it was just how it had to be… more than that, he could tell the pokémon genuinely wanted to fight for Shauntal. The way they glanced at her and made soft clicks and hums at her to invite her attention was telling enough. If they trusted her enough to willingly use attacks that they had to know would lose them the match, well… that was pretty good evidence, he'd have to say. Somehow, even though he knew this battle was being handed to him… watching Shauntal's pokémon trust her so fully, and watching Crest enjoy himself, made it far less stressful than the previous two battles.

"I'm sure the battle between you and that man will make for an excellent story!" Shauntal clapped once the battle was over. "A real page-turner!"

Hil raised a brow at her and snickered. "Maybe from N's side of things… See ya, Shauntal." He hoped she didn't write any novels detailing this… He would just have to make sure to politely decline if she asked him for information that would help her write it. A story about me obsessing over my friends, obsessing over a green-haired guy four years older than me, and over a redhead actor boy… while also losing every other match and talking to myself and my pokémon. He snorted. Who on Earth would read that? Sounds like an action movie that doesn't know whether it wants to include a love triangle or not. Besides, I'm no fun unless I'm telling jokes.

She waved excitedly at him as he left.

"That just leaves Dark-type specialist Grimsley," Cheren explained as they made their way to his chamber next. "You're not hiding any Bug-type or Fighting-type moves on your team, are you?"

"Nope," Hil answered without skipping a beat.

Cheren sighed loudly. "Hil," he complained, "your coverage is—"

"Hey, I got shoved through the last two gyms of my challenge without a chance to really prepare for this," Hil defended himself with a pout, "I know my team could use work."

"You say that like you intended to fix it before you got here," Cheren snorted. "I know full-well you were going to do no such thing."

"Alright, just because you're right doesn't mean you get to call me out on it," Hil laughed as they stepped into Grimsley's chambers. A rich red carpet covered the stairs up to him and the walls of the room were gilded with bronze and gold. Again, at the foot of the chambers, it was clear that was his living space. Orange torches ringed the room's walls which at least gave it some more light than the other chambers had. He found that ironic, that the Dark-type user would have the brightest chamber.

As Hil and Cheren came into view before him, Grimsley was leaned over a small, round, wooden table. He had his legs crossed, seated in a wooden chair to match, and sipped on a colorless fluid in a wine glass. He didn't even turn to look at Hil and his friend right away. Instead he rapped his fingers against the surface of the table and mused wryly, "Man, oh, man, what is up today? So many challengers…" He sipped the glass again. "But I'm guessing you, the one with the ballcap, are the one Champion Alder wants us to go easy on." He gave Hil a sideways smirk. "Guess he really doesn't want that N getting to his spot."

"This is about more than a title," Cheren insisted right away, pushing just ahead of Hil in that familiar protectiveness. Hil let him go. Sometimes, letting Cheren do that wasn't such a bad thing. "Please. That man wants to force everyone in Unova to give up their pokémon."

"Nobody would ever listen to that," Grimsley chuckled. He took another sip of the drink. "Listen. You don't have to lie for Alder's sake. In fact, I don't think either of you should want to. Maybe a change of pace is what this League needs. Maybe having someone like N in the champion's seat would encourage some new challengers and get Unova finally moving forward again." He paused and let Cheren question him some more. Grimsley only snickered more at Cheren's increased aggravation. "A win is a win no matter how ugly, kid. And personally, I'd rather have someone not hand-picked by Alder in that seat."

Hil frowned. "You think Alder is just worried about who is going to replace him?" he asked, accidentally cutting another biting remark from Cheren off. He glanced apologetically at him and Cheren just shrugged.

"He's spent the last thirteen years or so trying to convince us to keep an illegally strong team here to prevent anyone he didn't want from getting there. Well… I say illegal." He looked to the roof of his chambers. "Nothing's really illegal for the Champion of Unova, you see. The others didn't listen at first… not for a few years, anyway. But eventually they did. For what, don't ask me. Well, I guess Marshal did because he's obsessed with the man. Maybe Caitlin and Shauntal did just to get him off their backs." Grimsley poured the rest of the liquid in the glass down his throat in one quick gulp, shaking his head violently afterward. He clacked the glass back against the table. "So, to answer your question, yes. Why else would he suddenly want us to be so much weaker?" Grimsley finally stood up, careful to not knock over the empty glass, and sauntered a few feet to his side of the battlefield. He dug in his pockets and then bounced a coin in his hand. "You don't trust what people say, kids. You trust what they do and how they act. Your good uncle Grimsley knows that firsthand."

Hil stared at him like he'd seen a ghost. "You don't like Champion Alder?"

"Is it that obvious?" Grimsley asked coyly. He bounced the coin again. "So, kid in the ballcap. It's you I'm battling, right?"

"My name's Hil, and yeah," Hil nodded nervously and stepped forward.

"Heads or tails?"

"I'm sorry…?"

Grimsley scoffed and flicked his coin again. "Heads… or tails?"

"Uh… Heads," Hil answered confusedly. He shared a look with Cheren.

Grimsley flicked the coin with his thumb and it arced across the battlefield and into the empty space surrounding it, disappearing into the depths of the bottom of the chamber. He stared after it, looking almost bored, and then idly touched a hand to his scarf. "Looks like it didn't land at all," he mused. With that, he shrugged and reached into a pocket. "Go, Liepard. Fake Out."

Bewildered by the display with the coin, Hil shrugged off the thought and sent out his own Liepard, Lucky. Grimsley was quick to show just how outmatched Hil was. Fake Out made Lucky flinch, and she failed to return an attack of her own, but also, the attack had been brutally violent. Grimsley's Liepard brought its paws down on Lucky's forepaws and sank its claws in, surprising her and causing her to try to jump back, ripping long cuts into her. Yowling, Lucky finally swatted the opposing Liepard away with her tail and retreated to Hil's side. Blood trickled from the harsh cuts and she began to frantically lick them.

"Your pokémon are seriously unprepared," Grimsley said quietly.

"I'm not here for Alder's spot. I swear, I couldn't care less about what happens with Alder today. I'm not here for him," Hil pleaded as he worriedly looked Lucky over. "Lucky, think you can get a few Sand-Attacks in?"

"Lucky?" Grimsley echoed thoughtfully. "That's an interesting name for a Liepard."

Hil shyly looked to his shoes. "I was so happy I caught her I named her that. 'Cause I felt lucky to have caught her."

Grimsley had no response for that. "Aerial Ace, Liepard."

Lucky tried to toss out sand and grit at the opposing Liepard's face, but her injured legs betrayed her, and her attack was less than effective. Grimsley's Liepard sprang high into the air and landed on Lucky's back, pinning her painfully to the floor, and it slashed a clawed paw from Lucky's shoulders to her hips. Struggling madly against the larger, bulkier Liepard, she flipped to her back and lashed out at her attacker's face. Nose bleeding, the enemy Liepard hissed and hopped off Lucky in a swift, fluid motion.

Hil gawked at Lucky's injuries and felt bile rise in his throat. Her legs trembled as she staggered to her feet, and she cast wide, scared eyes at her trainer. Hil bent down and patted his knees. She limped over to him and collapsed at his feet. Grimsley's Liepard, on the other hand, sashayed back and forth across the battlefield like it was putting on a show.

"It's okay, you don't have to battle anymore," Hil reassured Lucky. He offered her the option to return to her Poké Ball, and she lurched forward and touched the center button with her nose. Hil would heal her following their battle, but for now, he knew the best thing for her was to rest in the safety and comfort of the Poké Ball. As he selected Crest for his next pokémon, Hil scowled at Grimsley. "I'm trying to be patient here, man. But you're gonna hurt my pokémon for no reason doing this. I don't care about Alder. In fact, I'm pretty sure he's what eventually led to my dad's suicide, so… you know." Hil crossed his arms. Yeah, he was using shock factor to his advantage. He was growing desperate… besides, Grimsley didn't strike him as the pitying type.

Cheren audibly sputtered at Hil's words. "Hil, what?"

Still, Grimsley made no comment, even if his eyes did narrow with intrigue. "Go, Bisharp. Guillotine."

"Hil, careful, that's a one-hit knockout move!" Cheren spluttered. Clearing his throat, he added, "Also, Alder did what?"

"Crest, come on out, avoid that hit!" Hil tossed the Poké Ball weakly as he gave his orders. Crest waved eagerly at his opponent and peered back at Hil. The Bisharp lunged at him with two gleaming, metallic claws aimed at his throat, and Crest propelled himself out of its way with his tail. Pleased, Hil cried, "Good job, Crest! Try a Scald on it!" Looking over his shoulder at Cheren, Hil softly answered him at last, "I'll have to explain later… Trust me, please?"

Cheren's bulging, worried eyes seemed to sink back into their sockets some as he stared back at Hil. He nodded slowly. "Okay…"

Crest spewed a volley of steaming water at the Bisharp, and it shrugged off the attack without so much as a flinch. The water beaded off its body and collected at its feet. Grimsley tapped a finger to his chin. "What could you possibly mean by that, I wonder?" he asked aloud. "Bisharp, calm down for a moment, please." Grimsley threw his hands out in an 'I don't know' gesture. "Guess Shauntal's rubbed off on me. I do love a good story."

"Back before I was born, I was told my dad challenged the Pokémon League… a lot," Hil spoke deliberately and slowly, doing his best to keep his breathing steady. "He always beat at least two of you guys. Sometimes three."

"And then?" Grimsley tilted his head.

"And then I came along, and he had to settle down," Hil choked out. He swallowed hard to try to fix his voice. "About three years ago, he left to challenge the Pokémon League again… and he lost against you guys. Again, and again, and again, even though he had the same team and was just a little out of practice. Never beat a single one of you."

"What was this man's name?" Grimsley queried interestedly.

"Vincent Whitacre," Hil spat the name like poison. "Or… Vince, Whitacre, I guess. He went by Vince."

"That name sounds familiar, but I can't place it," Grimsley muttered.

"Castelia City gun incident," was all Hil had to say, and Grimsley's back straightened abruptly. He blinked fervently at the boy standing before him now.

"You're the son of that guy?" He pursed his lips and there was an awkward silence. "My condolences. But your sad story is not going to let me let you through. Nice try, though. Bisharp, try Guillotine again."

"What?" Hil clenched his teeth and groaned, "It's not a story for your pity! Crest, avoid it and Scald again!"

Crest cooed at the Bisharp as it rushed for him again, and this time, he cartwheeled out of its way. The Bisharp skidded to a stop and pointed a hand at Crest in irritation. The Simipour stuck his tongue back out at him, and then let loose another torrential wave of blazing hot water.

"After losing all kinds of money to trying to take you guys on, he thought he had lost too much skill to get back where he left off, so he joined Burgh's gym," Hil continued, growing more and more agitated by the second. He could feel Cheren's eyes boring into him as he told the story. "Where he had to start all over again and likely felt even more out of place."

Grimsley regarded him wordlessly.

"He just kept falling farther and farther behind, and soon after that, he quit coming home. He called all the time. He called my mom all the time," Hil gave a broken smile. "Almost every night across that stupid Xtransceiver. Talking about how he was getting better or whatever… And then my mom would just dig into him. All because Alder told you guys to step it up a notch, or else someone scary might take Alder's seat. Because I'm sure people like my dad would have just been absolute nightmares to have in such a position of power, huh?" Hil wanted to clamp his jaw and quit letting the words flow, but he seemed powerless to stop the cascade. "And just like always, nobody noticed a thing!"

"So, you are blaming Alder for all of that," Grimsley stated. He looked to the empty wine glass on his table mournfully, as if he wished it were still full.

"Not all of it," Hil answered and hung his head. "No. I know my dad messed up. But he was hurting, and nobody else realized it. Now, I know everyone sees N as just wanting to rip people and pokémon apart, but he's hurting, too. I don't know exactly what's going on with him. But I know if I get up there and challenge him, and if I win, especially? Then maybe, maybe I can talk some sense into him. Maybe I can help him."

In a surprise turn of events, Grimsley recalled his Bisharp. "Then you have no reason to be battling me. Heal your team." He took a deep breath and stretched his back. "Life is a serious battle, and you have to use the tools you're given. It's more important to master the cards you're holding than to complain about the ones your opponents were dealt. That's what I have prepared to tell many of my challengers… not that we usually get that many. But I see you have already learned that lesson. Maybe sooner than you should have." Grimsley rested a hand against his forehead and huffed. "I have a headache. My point is, I like your determination and how you can suss other people out, kid. If you think there's someone in need, then go help 'em." He took a seat at his table again. "I'll hit my switch to show you've defeated me. Take the elevator in the lobby. It's the platform under the statue. There, you'll meet the Champion of Unova—whether that's still Alder or N."

Hil let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. "Thank you, Elite Four Grimsley," he whispered as he recalled Crest.