I would like to thank all six people who have followed this story so far. I think that's a pretty good start. Also, thank you to everybody who is reading this tale.

Here's the third chapter. After this, I do expect the chapters to get somewhat longer. It's gonna be a ride. Enjoy.

Current music: Redemption - Three Days Grace

The day of the tournament dawned hot and humid - then again, that was typical weather for Alola, no matter the month. Far from noteworthy.

The real cause for commotion, of course, was that it was the day of the tournament. In that regard, today's date was incredibly consequential.

At 8 AM sharp, Katt arrived at the Colosseum. After checking in and going through the metal detector, much like she had yesterday, she followed the signs to the press box.

The press box was not the same room she'd been in yesterday morning. For one, the cameras hadn't been rolling in the latter room - Katt would be on TV today, not that there was anything wrong with that. As a journalist, she was used to both covering and being covered.

Of course, the tournament itself would receive the Pyroar's share of the attention. As Katt strode into the press box, she pondered the interview she'd given August yesterday.

He really seemed to communicate well with his Pokémon. Of course, any talented trainer must be able to do so, but August just seemed different somehow.

Not for the first time, Katt wondered if August Hemlock knew something she didn't. But she wouldn't accuse him of anything illicit without evidence - that wasn't her job.

"Good morning, Ms. Keller," one of the other reporters, a tall man about her age, practically crooned as Katt sat down on one of the couches in the press box.

"You could just call me Katt, you know" she shot back. "There's no need for all that formality."

The man did not respond with words, but rather simply a smile. He instead gazed down through the glass window at the colosseum, which was divided into many smaller arenas so that the round-robins could be over as quickly as possible.

"Wow, this place never ceases to amaze me," the man who'd tried to flirt with Katt said. "Look how enormous it is."

"What are you, seven?" Katt snapped. "Let's just watch the event and cover it. You can ooh and awe all you want afterwards."

The man did not reply.

As part of their job, the members of the press were told to keep their phones available and connected to the Internet at all times. Correspondents "on the ground" (in this case, literally) would text them live updates as to which contestants were standing out from all the rest. Based on that, Katt and the others would contribute to a live blog on the events.

The press box itself was a rather small room, packed to the brim with reporters and sofas. The table against the wall contained several refreshments - cold fruit juices, croissants, and tea breads. Katt licked her lips - the food they served here was always excellent.

But the biggest treat was the view. From this vantage point, all sixty-four smaller arenas could be seen quite clearly from a height of twenty stories. There was also a pair of binoculars to enable a "closer" look, but the live updates would be more than sufficient.

The flirtatious reporter (whose name tag identified him as Jesse Perkins of OANN) smiled widely as his phone buzzed. He turned to Katt, showing two rows of artificially white teeth.

"The opening ceremonies have concluded!" he exclaimed. "The round-robins will be starting shortly!"

As much as Katt found Jesse annoying, she had to admit that his excitement was very much justified. The first stage of the Alolan Championship was well underway.

"Each contestant will play one match against the other contestants in their pool," Jesse said. "Whoever wins the most matches in each pool will make the 64-man bracket."

Katt rolled her eyes. "We all know what a round-robin is, Jesse."

"Whatever" Jesse said simply.

After that, the news trickled in a little more slowly. Katt received a text that the contestants were being reminded of the rules and etiquette for each match - this hardly felt noteworthy, but she still typed it into the live blog. Better to be safe than sorry.

I'll be keeping an eye on August, Katt promised herself, albeit not a very close one. I mean, look how high up we are!

"We'll be getting live results from each round-robin pool," Jesse asserted. "That way, we'll know who's on track to make the main bracket."

Oh my goodness, would he shut up already? That would be wonderful!

Even if he was annoying, Jesse was still a source of useful information. Katt found herself going through the list of pools on her laptop (on a live web page set aside for this purpose) and searching for the one name she was interested in.

You all know which one, of course.

At first, it was difficult to find the right contestant; that is, until Katt realized that there was a search bar. She typed said contestant's name into said search bar, and sure enough, the result came up.

August Hemlock had already competed in (and won) his first match. Katt's heart leaped at that, because most Pokémon battles took longer than five minutes.

Should I be happy, though? That doesn't really seem like cause for celebration. After all, just look at how hostile he was to me yesterday!

One of the other journalists (not Jesse) gasped. "My guy's losing!" he exclaimed, getting up from his chair and pumping his fist upward as if angry at Arceus for not letting his preferred competitor win.

Another journalist, this one a woman, turned to him. "You're not supposed to be too emotionally attached to the contestant you interviewed," she replied with pursed lips.

"Why the hell not?"

"Because", the woman responded, "it's not appropriate. Besides, your contestant will almost certainly lose. It's just a matter of the odds - there are hundreds of trainers competing to be the Alolan Champion."

Jesse turned to face the other two reporters. "Well, nobody comes in here expecting to lose. That's the nature of this contest - everyone wants to win, and yet only one can win."

Uh, dude, I think that's all contests. Put a sock in it.

"By the way, the one I interviewed? He just won a match. Yay!"

Katt rolled her eyes and returned to her slice of marble tea bread. All there was to do now was wait, but something nagged at her.

Surely nobody here wants to lose. But August promised me he'd win - and look at him now! Granted, it's only one match, but still.

A few minutes later, Katt returned to August's pool on the live page, where, sure enough, he'd just won another matchup. If he could win one more, he'd be in good shape to move on to the next round.

"How is your contestant doing, Katt?" Jesse asked her, raising his voice at the end as though trying to sound sweet.

Katt snorted. "I don't think you need to know that, Jesse."

"On the contrary, I do need to know," he responded, rising from his seat and walking over to Katt's side. He seemed intent on reading over her shoulder.

She swiveled away from him, closing her computer so that Jesse couldn't see it. Fortunately, he got the message, returning to his seat.

"How long do we have to be here?" a somewhat wizened man enquired in his deep tone. "I'm getting too old for this."

"Until the tournament is over," another man told him.

"But that could be all day. There are literally dozens of matches that we need to get through."

"It'll go a lot more quickly as the tournament progresses," one of the cameramen said. Up to this point, those filming the reporters had been mostly silent, unnoticed, like shadows behind the people they were watching. Not anymore.

"Why do you think that?" the old man asked.

"Well, the trainers and their Pokémon always get tired after a while. Healing Machines are miracles of modern science, but they can only do so much. That's why the standard of competition tends to be lower in the later rounds."

"Huh."

"Besides", Jesse jumped in, "they're supposed to bring lunch for us later. Today it's pizza, so that's nice."

Katt instantly pictured a caravan of pizza delivery vans outside the Colosseum, men in all-white coats and floppy hats carrying stacks of boxes to each press room. Of course, she was grateful for this - pizza makes everything better, especially when you're stuck in a room with another flirtatious journalist.

"Anyway", the cameraman continued, "it looks like one of the contestants in Pool 22 conceded a match before it began. Said he was 'scared of losing', whatever that meant."

"It means he's scared of losing," Katt muttered, though she had a sinking feeling as she looked down at her laptop. Wasn't Pool 22 that one?

"Well, if you're scared of losing, quitting is hardly any better, is it?" Jesse wondered aloud. "If you quit, you're a loser and a sucker. If you fight, you're a driver, you're a winner."

"Jesse", Katt said, "shut it. Please."

Jesse smirked at her, but he did shut it. After that, the room was "quiet" for a while - though if you've ever been inside a press room at a Pokémon Colosseum, you'll know that "quiet" is relative.

Occasionally, one of the other journalists would cheer at the news that their preferred contestant was doing better than expected; or, conversely, they would groan if said trainer lost a match. It seemed like nobody was taking that woman's advice to heart - everyone seemed to care about the person they'd interviewed.

After about fifteen more minutes, Katt's phone rumbled. Do I dare pick it up in order to see what's going on?

Well, of course I do. That's my job, after all. Even if I don't like the news, I have to cover it.

She opened her phone and saw that, upon winning the fourth of his round-robin matches, August Hemlock would advance to the main bracket. As soon as she learned this, she gulped audibly, hoping nobody else could hear that.

It's nothing to be worried about, she chastised herself. All it means is that August is in the top twenty percent here. And, statistically speaking, that's not that surprising. If he starts winning the next several matches easily, then we'll talk.

Still, something about how quickly August's four matches had gone gave her pause. That had to be noteworthy, right?

There were some more cheers, some more groans, and even some clapping. One thing, however, became clear: The commotion was only going to increase from here on out. This room would become very loud indeed.

"Hey, look. Pizza!"

Katt hadn't exactly zoned out, but she hadn't been paying as much attention as she perhaps should have been. Even though she knew other contestants mattered too, she'd subconsciously been paying attention mainly to August.

Don't let him consume your mind, she told herself. He's just one of them. Far from the only trainer who matters here.

The pizza delivery guy carried a tall stack of boxes. He smiled as he saw the reporters licking their lips. Even those who had been sullen and brooding before now had their eyes wide open.

"These are all for you," he said. "They say pizza makes everything more bearable. Are you all having fun?"

Why is he talking to us as though we're children?

"Anyway", the delivery guy continued, "these pizzas are on the house. The round-robins have concluded, and the main bracket has been finalized."

"Was it seeded?" Jesse enquired.

The delivery man frowned. "What does that mean?"

"You don't know what seeding a bracket means?"

Of course he doesn't, Jesse. This man doesn't know a thing about the tournament - he's only here in his official capacity as a pizza delivery man.

"Well, no," the delivery guy responded. "I'm only here to deliver pizzas - give me a break. But I will say this: Don't get too invested in any one contestant. There will be ups and downs. Mostly downs, depending on how your contestant does."

"Fair enough," Jesse muttered, glancing at Katt as if to say, Is he serious?

Anyway, as the contestants far below were preparing for the main event, the text alerts slowed as the pizza slaughtering began.

"This looks pretty good," one of the men (not Jesse) remarked. "The crust is nice and thin, even if it is a bit undercooked."

"Dude, I saw somebody snort a pizza once!" a different man exclaimed, looking up at the ceiling as though reminiscing about this event like it was the coolest thing he'd ever seen.

"Wait, he snorted the pizza? Like cocaine?"

"No, not like that. But it was coming out of his ears, and his nose, and there was sauce, and there was pineapple! And I was like, 'Whoa, dude, slow down!'"

Katt cringed. Although she hadn't had too much breakfast that morning, the mental image of someone scarfing down pizza like that made her lose much of her appetite.

"Yeah, he was sick as a dog after that," the man continued with a chuckle. "Just don't overdo it, at least not that quickly."

Nope. I certainly won't.

And so the pizza slaughtering began. Although this event was very high profile, the meal itself was quite casual. It involved napkins being used as plates, for one.

"So who did you interview again, Katt?" one of the other women asked her.

Katt pursed her lips. "Why did you need to know that again?"

"I'm just curious," the woman responded. "It's called small talk, and you would do well to grow used to engaging in it."

"Fair enough," Katt replied, feeling that she was making a mistake. "I interviewed August Hemlock. He's nineteen years old, from Dakal City."

"Dakal City…" the other woman said. "Isn't that one of the sketchier areas of Alola?"

"Is it?" Jesse enquired, butting into a conversation where he didn't belong.

The woman nodded. "Lots of petty crime there, and some crime that's a little more than petty. When one of my colleagues visited a slum as part of his reporting, he was required to have an armed guard with him at all times."

"Maybe he really needs the money," Jesse jumped in. "That could be why he entered, even if he doesn't want all the fame."

Katt feared that this was a bad idea, but she felt the need to clarify something. So she did just that.

"If he didn't want fame, then he shouldn't have agreed to it in the hopes of winning a fortune. When I interviewed him yesterday, he seemed to buckle under the pressure. I don't know if this was the right decision for him."

"But he made the 64-man bracket," one of the men said with a smile. "Clearly, he's doing something right."

"Well, only time will tell," Jesse responded, sounding far too happy. "If he buckled under the pressure of the interview, actually making it to this stage might be too much for him."

Quite frankly, I don't know what to wish for at this point.

As the reporters settled further into their meal, Katt was acutely aware of two things. One, Jesse still occasionally looked over his pizza in order to glance at her. What he hoped to accomplish by doing this, Katt didn't know, nor did she think she wanted to.

Two, the eating habits of the men in the room didn't seem to have changed since middle school. Even the one who'd spoken negatively of snorting the pizza had begun doing pretty much that.

Katt's phone rumbled yet again. She put down her slice to read the alert, which said the following: The second phase of the tournament has begun. 64 of 64 players remain.

"It has begun!" she exclaimed, trying to sound excited. In a way, she didn't really have to try, because she was excited. How would August do? If he ended up winning, how much prestige would Katt receive from having interviewed the eventual winner?

Eh, don't get excited just yet. If you become more famous as a result of August winning, the flirting from Jesse and other men might increase.

Katt shook her head, which Jesse noticed. "What's wrong, Katt?" he asked her.

"Nothing. I was just…thinking about things."

"You should go over to the binoculars, see what's going on down there."

Katt didn't see how she'd be able to see what was happening in each individual match; if she could, then it would be hard to keep track of it all. Nonetheless, she put down her slice of Alolan pizza and walked over to the set of binoculars against the window.

Twenty entire stories below, the interior of the Alola Colosseum had been divided into thirty-two segments, each one containing a match. If Katt turned the binoculars a little under 90 degrees to the right, she could see the bracket as it updated in real time.

She received another rumble, but Katt did not check her phone. She was too busy surveying the scene, where some of the battles were incredibly chaotic. Katt wondered if this was what it would have been like to observe war from atop a mountain.

Don't be ridiculous.

To an outsider, the pastime of Pokémon battling might have seemed barbaric. Creatures fought one another for fun, and someone not from the Nexus might think that the planet should have moved past it.

In reality, from what Katt had read about in history class back at school, she'd learned that a desire to move beyond the wars of ancient history was the main impetus for Pokémon battles. It was a way for humans and Pokémon to expel all their worst impulses on the battlefield with little or no risk to life.

The tournament was a carefully controlled environment, in which medics were on the scene 24/7 just in case somebody got seriously hurt. Injuries could still happen, though they very rarely caused permanent damage if sustained during "normal battles." (To be fair, Katt wasn't sure what constituted normality.)

Even so, seeing all this fighting from above, fire and water and ice and sand flying all over the place, Katt had to admit that it left a pit in her stomach. Just a tiny one, but still.

As she looked back at the bracket, Katt noticed that several matches had already been called in favor of one contestant. August Hemlock was one of them; he'd made it to the second round of this phase, where… wait, was his opponent conceding early?

"I still don't get it," Katt muttered. "Why are they dropping out voluntarily?"

"Because they don't think they can win, maybe? Perhaps they've learned about their opponents' reputation and don't want to humiliate themselves."

"I mean", Katt responded, "I would think that bowing out without even trying is more humiliating, but what do I know? I've never been a trainer."

Sure enough, Katt received another rumble. This time, she stepped back from the binoculars and checked her phone.

The alert read the following: August Hemlock advances to Round 3 after opponent Leo London concedes prior to match. London gave the following reason: "The way he commands his team - it's like he knows exactly what they're thinking!"

Katt's throat felt as though it were being crushed. Probably the worst part was that she had no idea what to do about it.

Yet again, she considered that August might know something she didn't. But whereas before, she had no idea what that secret knowledge was, this time things looked a little clearer.

Is August doing something? Like, besides what he's supposed to be doing?

Katt slunk back to her couch and tried to think through the implications of this inkling. If she went public with such an accusation, and was right, she'd be seen as a hero for exposing wrongdoing. It would be difficult to deal with the knowledge that the wrongdoing had occurred, but Katt wouldn't be alone in that task.

On the other hand, if she publicly accused August of cheating in the tournament, but was wrong, then she'd be the villain. Even if August was innocent, such an allegation could ruin his life, and Katt could never live with that hanging over her.

Perhaps she'd have to wait and see. It could be nothing but paranoia. Just me seeing patterns that aren't there. But, upon learning several minutes later that August's opponent in the round of sixteen had given him a bye into the round of eight, it did not seem that way.

Suddenly, the pizza tasted like cardboard.