A/N: Well, I'm back. As you can see, I'm not dead.

For those wanting an explanation for my absence, I spent a week on a llama trek in Wyoming. It was a thoroughly enjoyable experience (one of my friends had his hat chewed out by a bear, no joke). After that I had to prepare for my semester abroad in Australia. Now that I'm here, in the land Down Under, I'll be able to get some inspiration and write more.

Well, on to the story then. Here it is, the long-awaited (unfortunate for you) conclusion to the Battle Trial between Ryan and Karen. This chapter was more difficult to write than the previous, believe it or not. I had to call in help at one point because I wasn't sure how to continue. However, once I had an idea of what would happen, the rest was attention to details, and those just fell into place.

For those who inquired as to my shift in POV last chapter, from Ryan to Coy, it was because the characters I centered on at the moment had different attitudes about life, and I tried to reflect their personalities in my writing. Ryan's was more personal, to the point of being egocentric, so it felt right to give his thoughts one-liners every once and awhile. Coy, on the other hand, is more scientific, preferring to view things at a distance. I apologize if I threw people off with this shift; I thought I had separated the two enough with the dividers, but it turns out that I'm still developing it. I write in third person, so I don't feel the need to put the character's name at the front as a subheading. Since these are the only two you'll have to hear from in this story (as far as I know), it shouldn't be too hard to differentiate.

In my fics, high level means a great deal of experience, nothing more. "Stats" as we know from the games are too complex to be accurately applied in a realistic setting, and so I don't use them. While there is no exact way to measure it, like in the games, it generally goes that a pokémon with more experience understands their fighting capabilities more than amateurs do. For example, to a beginning boxer, a punch is a punch, but an experienced boxer knows that certain punches have differing degrees of power, precision, and speed.

For those who want a guide, sentences (including one-word sentences, even though it defies the laws of grammar) in italics are thoughts.

Disclaimer: Still nothing to update.

This chapter is approximately six pages long, 2,823 words (not including title, disclaimer, or author notes). I must say that I am rather pleased with that word count. Chow down!

Chapter 4: Trial and Error

"Round Two!"

The sphere split along its equator, light exploding out to take shape. When the flash faded, it revealed a rubescent lupine of the Vulpix species. Immediately upon his (for he was male) release, he howled, releasing a small stream of fire as he did so. More than florid, he looked vibrant and alive, having already begun a stare-down with the Meditite only a few meters away.

Quickly, Ryan ran over the basics, one more time, to set himself in the right frame of mind.

A fire-type, Vulpix had fair agility and was therefore good at dodging. His lean frame and quadruped skeleton made him much more nimble than Marill, and so more adaptive to abrupt changes in battle conditions. Ryan had been sure to build on this, eventually coming up with a fighting style designed to enhance this mobility. With his body low, paws spread out beneath it in a loose manner, Vulpix was ready to dodge in any direction at a moment's notice.

But that wasn't the only thing Ryan had trained Vulpix on. Crossing his arms close to his chest, Ryan gazed over the battlefield. Solemnly so, in his mind.

This would be over in an instant.

"Attack, Meditite!"

The sky-blue psychic charged, fists lowered at its waist in same manner that was used to finish off Ryan's Marill earlier in the fight. Vulpix ducked his head under the first, and then began backpedaling away. He continued to build up speed until he was hoping backward, easily timing himself with the rhythm of Meditite's swings. The psychic did not land a single hit. Even if the psychic could read his movements, the vulpine was constantly out of reach.

That was the plan—lure the enemy into attacking head-on, waiting for the right moment to . . .

"Now, Vulpix!"

Upon his command, the Vulpix unleashed a flurry of embers into the Meditite's face. At this close proximity, he couldn't miss. Crying out, the little blue pokémon halted its assault to wipe at its eyes, as if hoping to rub out the burning sensation. However, with its arms covering its face, the Meditite left itself wide open.

"Follow through!"

Vulpix complied, tackling directly with a head-butting to the stomach, both winding the foe and forcing it to the ground at the same time. Satisfied with his work, Ryan called the vulpine to back off, giving the Meditite time to gather itself.

The sound from the crowd was enormous now. Cries of cheering and jeering for their favorite contestants mixed with shouts of encouragements and whoops of triumph. It was beginning to overwhelm and disrupt Ryan's concentration on the battle.

Karen didn't seem phased by it, though. Her attention was completely focused on the battle at hand. It was far from over, and she could not afford to get distracted. She was stubborn, a tough one, not easy to take down. Ryan knew this from experience. "Prepare your thunderpunch!"

Again? Ryan thought, a little taken aback by the command. Is that all you've got? He had to admit, it was a little uncreative of her. Had he exhausted all of her tricks this already? He had not expected to flush out her trump card so early. But then, if that was her best shot . . . then this means that the Meditite didn't have any ranged attacks!

As I thought—any psychic training its had has been limited to a purely defensive aspect. Ryan thought as he looked across the field. If that was its best move, then he had the match in the bag.

The Meditite was raising its fist in accordance with its trainer's orders. Their gazes met. It had that same look in its eyes from back when it had beaten Marill.

. . . Still, it could prove problematic if that connected . . .

"It's time we showed them your special technique, Vulpix," Ryan said over the din of the crowd.

The Vulpix nodded, and bowed his head as if in concentration. Then, the vulpine began to cough up Ember after Ember, not at the Meditite, but instead at the ground beneath him.

The flames burst shorter and shorter away, until they curled around the lip of his muzzle. The more fire he added, the further it spread. By allowing the flames to overlap and mingle, the reflective properties of the Vulpix's fur would shield him, virtually covering his body in flames. This was Ryan's ultimate strategy—a combination of Flame Wheel and Flash Fire. It was the perfect defense against plotters like Karen. Even if the Meditite was advanced enough to anticipate his pokémon's moves, it still didn't understand the fundamental power that is fire.

The Meditite hesitated, trying to understand what was going on. Karen looked similarly dumbfounded.

That's right, Ryan thought, mentally directing his thoughts at Karen's distress. You won't find this in any textbook.

"Charge."

The Vulpix complied, and rushed toward his opponent. The Meditite had put its guard up, but it could still counter with its thunderpunch. It was anyone's match now, with the odds as they were.

Ryan bet on fire.

Let's see if it can stand the heat.

The Meditite hesitated. It was probably too stunned by the sight of a living fireball bearing down upon it, and as such wasn't fully prepared for the attack. The flaming tackle hit the fight-type hard, leaving it down on its knees with mild (but painful) burns all along its forearms. Yet, in spite of all that, it was still trying to get up, gasping for breath through gritted teeth.

The referee signaled a "Down!" on the red corner, remaining focused on the downed Meditite. Ryan glanced upward. The clock still had another two minutes on the round, but if the pokémon could not stand up in the next ten or so seconds, the referee would have to call it. Already the flashing red numerals of the down-count had appeared beneath the timer.

Karen shouted her encouragements, as she usually did when her pokémon were in a tight spot. The Meditite tried to respond, continuing its struggle to stand.

But then the clock hit zero.

"Round two is over! By judge's decision, Meditite is unable to continue the battle! The round goes to Vulpix!"

The ref. yelled as if she was trying to shout over the crowd, but such vocalization was not necessary.

The crowd had gone silent.

Coy had unknowingly been gradually inching forward in his seat as the tension in the stadium built up. The hush that passed through after Ryan's Vulpix had surrounded itself in flames had signaled a profound astonishment in every spectator, even in the usually reserved Prof. Coy.

That last move, could it have been . . .

"What a magnificent use of Flash Fire!" The praise Brash laid upon his student was beginning to annoy Prof. Coy, but it was well-founded. That move had had staggered the imagination. He looked over at his colleague. Did Prof. Brash understand the implications here?

"Almost a year he's had that one. Didn't think he could advance its capabilities so far in that time," Brash remarked, his statement seeped with sincere praise. "Every morning you could find him have it running laps around the track, if not through the town streets, with him following close behind on his bike."

Coy nodded, understanding his reasoning. The physical condition of the Vulpix was first-rate. It was performing exceptionally, having easily overcome its psychic-type adversary. Truly this wasn't a battle Coy had expected to see in the trainer school level. The intensity of it was beyond what he had been anticipating.

Still, Coy couldn't call it, not just yet. This turnaround only put the two contestants at about even. They each had one pokémon left, the girl having yet to reveal her last.

Coy meshed his fingers, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin on his hand. If there was any other inclination of interest, Coy didn't show it. It had only been a minute ago, and already the third round was about to start . . .

Karen had recalled her Meditite, handing it quickly over to the medical professional stationed on the sidelines. She looked a little worried. Ryan could tell, because she was biting the upper-left corner of her lip. It was a nasty little habit of hers, but an excellent tell.

Ryan's Vulpix had wandered over to his side. The brilliant fire that had covered him earlier had disappeared. The fire-type looked ragged, his once glossy coat now covered in dark patches, either from soot or scorched fur due to the intense heat. Occasionally, he coughed up smoke.

What the little guy had just used wasn't a true Flame Wheel. Ryan knew that. The fire didn't swirl around the feet and sides of the firefox, enough though it may have looked like it. Rather it engulfed him, streaming from his head straight down to his six tails.

The student protégé glanced down at his pokémon partner. The move had its downsides, to be sure, but it got the job done.

"Round Three!"

A burst of light from the red corner revealed Karen's second pokémon to be a Gloom. Type match-up alone would have put this match squarely in his pocket, but Ryan knew better than to rely on that. He had already seen how much Karen had improved her Meditite's stamina in the first round, so he could only guess what advancements her Gloom had made.

"Keep your guard up, Vulpix."

The little fox growled in agreement, sinking into his signature relaxed stance. The little fire pokémon gazed over at the walking flower, which just stood there, drooling.

Karen was biting her lip again, and Ryan felt a little more confident. If Karen was nervous about this match-up, then he shouldn't be.

"Attack from a distance with Ember."

Vulpix responded immediately, launching a flurry of tiny but intense flames that danced wildly in the breeze, carried up against wind by his super-heated breath, in the general direction of the plant pokémon.

"Gloom, defend with petal dance!"

The Gloom bent its head forward, as if acknowledging that it had heard, and began to spin. As it spun, loose petals and leaves flew off, the centrifugal force and extra surface area creating a small, isolated whirlwind. The embers just blew on past without burning so much as a single leaf.

Well, Karen never made it easy for him before, so why should now be any different.

"Gloom, use your stun spore!"

The grass-pokémon lowered its head again, and then began shaking, scattering a wispy, russet-colored cloud in Vulpix's direction.

That's when Ryan remembered. The reason his Vulpix's attack had even reached the Gloom was because his heated breath had forced it to. This morning was a bit on the chilly side, despite the fact that it was early spring. It was why Ryan wore a coat, and why Vulpix's embers flew as far as they did. It would not have gone so well if it was, say 30º centigrade.

This was why he kept his focus wide, because otherwise he would not have noticed that the wind was in his face.

Damn. He was downwind of the weed's noxious cloud!

"Flame wheel, quick!" It didn't matter if it was the real thing or not, only that he get it up in time!

The Vulpix, at first wary of this choice, reluctantly complied. It resumed its coughing fit, forcing up the flames that licked at his muzzle and spread to cover his body. Since he was both breathing and engulfed in flame, any spores that came in close enough proximity burned up without harming him.

Ryan looked across at his rival. If she didn't stop, that lip of hers might turn bloody. While their attacks had been mutually voided, she knew that this was far from stalemate. She knew what he would do next. The real question was, Ryan asked himself, what will she do?

Well, only one way to find out. "Tackle it, Vulpix."

The Vulpix coughed in acknowledgement, then dashed in the direction of his foe. Hopefully, he could keep the flames up long enough to secure victory. Ryan looked on anxiously as Vulpix closed the gap. He was now two meters away. One—

"Acid!" Karen yelled.

Crap. She never made easy.

The Gloom shifted its stance, the sudden movement sending some liquid from the top of its flower fly out toward the firefox. Ryan held his breath. Fire would not burn that away. Never in his short life had he been put so on edge by such a phrase.

Imagine his relief when the firefox barely sidestepped the spew.

Nimble. Man, did he like that Vulpix.

The rest of the attack went smoothly, just as they had practiced all those nights before. Vulpix hit the plant paws-first, toasting it mainly between its petals and face, before jumping off and stepping behind it. By the end, the Gloom was sitting on the ground, nursing a burnt forehead. It had obviously been well-trained, as the startle reflex of releasing a horrid didn't kick in. But it clearly wasn't enough to stop it.

Ryan didn't restrain his Vulpix this time. The moment the firefox got behind the oversized flower, he turned to fire a point-blank fury of embers upon its back. The weed screeched as the drier leaves caught fire, curling black and crisp in the small inferno.

The medical stand-by jumped up, motioning for the referee to cut the match off. The ref. in turn immediately stepped in, signaling Karen to recall her Gloom. After Karen complied, the ref. raised her green flag. "Round three is finished! By T.K.O. the round goes to Vulpix! Without anymore usable pokémon, the match goes to the green corner, Ryan Pilate!"

Karen looked pissed. Ryan couldn't help but smile at the vain face she made. It felt good taking that high-and-mighty prissy down a notch.

He looked down at his Vulpix, who had started to walk back over. The little guy had pushed himself up to his endurance point, keeping his fire up so high for so long. His coat was in tatters, but it was only a discoloration that could be easily cleaned out. Ryan was grateful, true, and he would make sure to give him an extra helping of the spicy food it liked so much.

But this was his moment.

"Satisfied now?" Brash asked his esteemed colleague.

Coy stood up, not bothering to answer. The boy had won, yes, and from no shortage of talent in battling that the aged professor could see. Still . . .

The League representative looked over at Ryan's Vulpix. The creature was wheezing from over exertion—that technique clearly not an ability it was accustomed to using. As if to prove a point, the fox collapsed to one knee just as Ryan recalled it. The boy studied the ball for a moment, as if contemplating a piece of art in a museum.

Coy didn't like it. The kid was too reserved, too calculated. Most trainers in his situation would at least congratulate their pokémon, even if they would only say it to their closed pokéballs, thinking that, somehow, the pokémon could hear them. Not this kid. He looked at it for a moment, looking like he was going to do something with it, but then passed it off to the medic as he came up. "Done here," Coy could almost hear him say, so inexpressive were his movements, as if he were putting a tool back in the box. Pleased that his task was done, the winner (for that is what he was) put his hands in his pockets and casually looked around.

He looked at his rival first, giving a glance made to say, "oh, it's still there." He looked around the stadium next, picking out cheering individuals as they stood on top of their seats. His gaze continued to wander around the crowd in a full circuit, until they came to Coy's section.

Their eyes met.

Ryan wasn't celebrating. Well, not on the outside anyway. After looking around the entire stadium, his eyes came to rest on the presidential box, where he had seen the headmaster sitting next to the League representative. They were both still there, even though the professor in the long brown overcoat was in the process of vacating his seat.

Their eyes met for a brief moment.

At that moment, Ryan wondered if he had he given enough of a show. The look in the man's eyes said that he was not happy. What had happened to displease him so?

He watched on as his principal and the man with long silver hair, the man he suspected to be the Pokémon League representative professor, walk out of the stadium without saying a single word.

This would mark the start of a very unpleasant couple of weeks.