The roar of a thousand people erupted all around N. Never before had he seen so many accumulated in one place as he had here, seated on the bleachers of Vertress Stadium. A great hum of conversation, of laughter and chatter, droned around them, sounding like a hundred stampeding bouffalant. Colors were everywhere, and the smells of buttery popcorn and other food items mixed in with the crowds. He searched for the sun-bleached hair that would mark Luna, but with so many, he knew he would never be able to pick her out. He had not seen her since arriving in Vertress City.

A hand gripped his shoulder. N blinked and turned to find his father ushering him toward their seats. He complied, and together they settled themselves down, shoulder to shoulder with others. His father wouldn't like being so close to so many, but with the excitement built over the weeks, these were virtually the only spots left.

Ghetsis grimaced, as N though he might. "The sight of so many people turns my stomach. Wouldn't you agree, my son?"

N opened his mouth, hesitating. He had initially viewed the great multitude of people with amazement, but Ghetsis was right: they were all here only to entertain themselves by watching Pokemon get hurt and injured. That did permeate his mouth with a sour taste.

"Yes, father."

"Some who are here have no doubt heard our speech," Ghetsis said, leaning close so that N could distinguish his voice among all the rest. "They will see these battles, and the questions we've planted in their heads will stir like slumbering beasts. Today, we will not take any action. We will simply watch but in the coming days… that is when we will strike, my son."

N nodded. His father's judgment was sound, as always. "I see, father, I-"

N cut himself off when a man, wearing a light-blue suit, strode out into the arena below. The floor was sand, and the bleachers ringed around it on every side. N and Ghetsis were reasonably high up, so much so that N felt as though he could touch the clear blue sky, but they could still see well. He would watch the battles, not for enjoyment, but so that he could ingrain the memory in his brain, and never forget how terrible it had been. These fights between Pokemon would be the fuel that propelled his speeches.

The man below raised a microphone to his lips. Those in the stadium noticed him, as well, and the noise dampened down to a gentle murmur.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" He greeted, gesturing with one arm. "The Unova government greets you! Welcome to the Vertress Beginner's Tournament!"

A roar of stomps and cheers erupted from the crowd. Ghetsis tsked, scowling.

The announcer continued. "Allow me to explain the rules, onlookers! Three hundred and forty-four entered the preliminary match of the tournament. After many trials and tribulations, only sixteen have made it to the main-event to battle before you here today! Each participant will square off, that's right, square-off, in a one-on-one bout, and each will be able to use a maximum of three Pokemon. This will continue over four days until there's only one winner, who will receive a special cash prize of one million Pokedollars!"

Another wave of cheers sounded. As the announcer called the first competitors forward, N put his elbows on his knees, watching intently. His heart weighed heavy with sorrow that so many found joy in this sort of thing.

…

Oh! I'm excited! Are you excited, sir? I'm so excited!

King crossed his arms, leaning back against the steel wall behind him. He looked to his right, where the arena stretched out under the sunlight, and all the hundreds and hundreds of people waited. The announcer was out there - a thin man shaped like a stick - calling King's name and the name of his opponent. So I'm up against that Steven guy, huh? The people in the stand were a blur of colors from this distance.

Hey, hey! Are you excited?

King looked down. Zorua stared up at him, swishing its tail back and forth. After he'd brought it to a Pokemon center, everything else had healed fine enough for battle, except for that tear in its ear. The nurse had said that it was a permanent scar. King squatted down, coming level with it, and wondered how it could still trust humans after what had happened.

He cleared his throat. "Alright, listen," he said. It sat on its hind legs, nodding. "Remember the plan? Steven uses a psychic type, so we have a good first match-up."

I got it, sir!

King stood. "Alright, then. Good." He pointed the Pokeball at Zorua, and it dissolved into a streak of light, then got pulled into the device through the center-button. He held the ball at his side, swallowing hard, taking deep breaths. His heart thrummed in his chest, but he maintained a neutral expression on the outside. Everything was at stake here. This tournament was where he got to see if he had what it takes to become a trainer, or if his father had been right, and he was good for nothing. If he lost, that was it. He would toss zorua into the wild and live the rest of his life scrounging on the streets of Castelia. Some of the other trainers, he'd learned from listening to their conversations, participated in the tournament because it was fun or they wanted fame and fortune - petty goals like that. King had trained the zorua to the point of exhaustion on the way to Vertress and even did training of his own, watching professional battle after professional battle. For him, it was all or nothing.

"… and his challenger, all the way from Castelia City, King Parkman!"

King threw his Pokeball in the air, snatched it, and stepped out into the light. Waves of blaring cheers like an earthquake followed his footsteps. The government really did a number in hyping this thing up. Not that that's a good thing. Spotlight isn't my thing.

He came to the middle of the arena and stopped in front of his opponent, Steven, who looked to be about nine feet tall with his face covered in long, blond hair. The announcer moved over to their right.

"Would the challengers please release their Pokemon!"

King tossed the Pokeball into the sand. It landed, and zorua appeared as a meinfoo. He could see its face straining as it remembered the plan, using Nasty Plot, which was ultimately just thinking evil thoughts.

Steven chucked an Ultra ball, and out came the gothita he'd used in the preliminary. It was a powerful Pokemon.

The announcer nodded. King could feel the anticipation bubbling through the crowd, mimicking his own feelings, but he kept a neutral expression.

"Now! Let the battle begin!"

King shoved his hands in his pockets, gripping the fabric inside. Steven placed one foot behind the other, smirking at him. The sun glared above, radiating heat down on them. The crowd bellowed.

"Meinfoo, huh?" Steven boasted. "Looks like I'm at an advantage here."

King waved a dismissive hand. "Yeah, alright. Boasting isn't going to get me to make a hasty move, Steven, buddy, so you can just forget that tactic. You're better off focusing on using actual strategies, I'd say."

He grimaced. "Alright, then. I'll start with a bang! Gothita, Psyshock!"

The wind gusted at King, tossing up the sand around him. Gothita vaulted into the air, throwing its arms out in front of itself. Blue and purple energy coalesced into a ball at its palms, like a mass of syrup. Zorua - meinfoo - looked back at King. He nodded.

Zorua rushed forward. Gothita scrunched its face, then released the ball of energy, falling back to the ground. The Psyshock slammed into zorua, kicking up a cloud of sand and obscuring it from view.

"An early Psyshock from Steven!" The announcer cheered. "Is that it already?"

King paused, meeting Steven's eyes. The man was assured, alright. Too bad that confidence was misplaced.

He sniffed. "Dark Pulse!"

Steven's eyebrows furrowed. From the cloud of dust, Zorua leaped in the air in its true form, trailing streams of sand off its black and red fur. A sphere of dark, swirling purple energy formed at its mouth. It expelled it in one blast.

King watched as the move collided with gothita, throwing it back.

The stadium exploded into whoops and cheers.

"I don't believe it!" The announcer called. "King's meinfoo is a zorua! What a twist!"

"Gothita!" Steven grabbed the limp body of his Pokemon, clutching it his arms. It didn't move.

"It… it looks like gothita is unable to battle! That makes King the winner!"

He released a long, heavy breath and took his hands out of his pockets.

He bent down and grabbed the Pokeball, returning zorua inside it. Nodding to the announcer, he turned on his heel, leaving the sounds of the stadium behind as he ducked back into the hallway before the arena entrance. Alone, he sunk onto the floor with his back at the wall, chest heaving. He'd done it. He'd won his first battle as a Pokemon trainer.

He wondered if his father was somewhere in that crowd, watching, judging. No. He was probably off abusing one Pokemon or the other.

And, besides, King didn't have a father, anyway.