A/N: I own a copy of at least one game from every Generation, but that's about it.

TRODAIRE

THWOCK. THWOCK-THWOCK. THWOCK.

He had to admit, in all honesty perhaps it wasn't the best idea to insult a Dragon Master. Illegitimate or not, Clair was still a member of that hallowed fraternity. But then again, she'd been insulting Sabrina as well as his heritage, so screw her.

That last bit was the one that made him stop to think. Since when did he care all that much about Sabrina's personal feelings? Not that he was a misogynist; he would've stood up for anyone's honor after the insulting that Clair had given her. But then again, whenever he tried to think about another girl he kept picturing Sabrina in that pitch-black dress, with those violet-blue eyes…

In times like this, when he needed to clear his head, Trodaire turned to that wooden dummy in the corner of the gym. He'd built the thing himself by hand after seeing a picture of one in an old magazine in Orre, and over the years it had seriously worn down from repetitive use. He'd replaced parts here and there, and had outright debated buying an entirely new one recently. But he couldn't. The thing, in a sense, had been through just as much as he had over the years. It was almost like a diary, the way he buried the day's fears and angst and anxiety into the worn wood with a flurry of strikes, chops and punches.

THWOCK. THWOCK-THWOCK. THWOCK.

As he continued to go to work on the wooden dummy, the door to the Fight Club opened and in walked Paulie. He was carrying the morning's newspaper under one armpit, and a box of donuts in the other. Trodaire had long since told him that he tried to limit the number of sweets that he ate, to which Paulie gladly replied that that just left more for him. As the older man eased himself into an office chair, he glanced over at Trodaire.

"Yah never told me about the date last week, Troddie!" He shouted. Trodaire continued working on the dummy, but spoke back.

"Wasn't. a. date." He said in between strikes. "Just. Being. Nice."

"Of cours', Troddie." Paulie said with an amused grin forming on his lips. "So's I'm guessin' yeh ewre plannin' on sharin' it wit' the girls today?" He asked. Trodaire blinked once in confusion, momentarily stopping what he was doing.

"The girls?" He asked. "What are you talking abou-"

The door swung open, and in walked Sabrina, Misty, Janine, Whitney, Erika…as well as the rest of Misty's sisters.

Trodaire wondered if there was a cruel god whose sole purpose was to make his life miserable.

SABRINA

Once again, Trodaire looked like he had absolutely not prepared in the slightest for this self defense seminar. On one hand, she expected it. On the other, she was annoyed. How hard was it to deal with coming up with an hour's worth of material? Oh yeah, Trodaire was the kind of guy that actually spent time on practical ways to hurt people. Sabrina still felt sore from the last session.

"We brought extras." She said flatly. She noticed Trodaire frown slightly. Was it something she said? She hoped that it wasn't something that she said.

"And?" He asked. Before anyone could speak, Janine rudely stepped forward.

"Our last meeting was one that brought dishonor to my family. I wish to rectify this." She said. Trodaire shrugged.

"Ohkay…but I didn't really think that it was tha-" He was cut off.

"I challenge you to a one-on-one fight." Janine said. "I refuse to allow you to make a mockery of the ancient art of ninjutsu." She said with a snarl.

There was a long, awkward pause. Trodaire blinked once.

"I'm sorry, but there's something seriously wrong with that request." He said. Janine stiffened.

"What would that be? That you are unwilling to take my challenge?" She asked. Trodaire shook his head.

"No…it's just that I thought that I was teaching self-defense today. Not taking part in a fight to the death." He said. He looked desperately over at the other girls for support. To his horror, none was coming.

"Ooooh, that sounds so cool!" Daisy said. "That would, like, totally be better than actually, like, work."

"Like, yeah!" Violet and Lily said in creepy unison.

"I've always wanted to see two martial arts experts fight one another." Erika admitted. Whitney nodded eagerly.

With one last hope, Trodaire gave a pleading glance to Sabrina. She sighed.

"I'm inclined to agree with Trodaire. We did come here to learn self-defense…" She said. There was a groan of disappointment. Trodaire looked relieved, until Sabrina opened her mouth again. "…and what could be better than learning what would happen if attacked by a master of martial arts?" She gave an evil wink to Trodaire, who once again cursed the female half of the species. Janine removed her robe, revealing a full ninja uniform. She even pulled the hoodie on the back of her uniform top over until it covered her face, leaving just a slit for the eyes. Trodaire just blinked in stunned silence.

"You…were planning for this all day, weren't you?" He asked. She snarled.

"All week, weakling!" She hissed, before getting into a ready stance. Trodaire sighed, and removed his hoodie. He was wearing a plain white tee-shirt underneath, which Sabrina thought looked pretty symbolic to be facing a ninja in all-black. Sabrina became aware of a presence next to her. It was Paulie, who had ambled over with the carton of donuts.

"Better than daytime television, Troddie is!" He said.

With a yell, Janine made the first move. She threw a high kick intended to break Trodaire's jaw, but the Orrean had side-stepped the move and with the back side of his left hand swatted away her attacking leg. However, Janine followed this move with a series of punches aimed at the torso. Trodaire was completely on the defensive, swatting and knocking away her punches with a look of surprise and determination on his face. Sabrina didn't blame him: Janine was the second-greatest ninja in the world, second only to that of her uncle Koga. In a sense, Trodaire was fighting the master of a martial art.

Now it was Trodaire's turn. After Janine's moves began to slow down, the Orrean threw a couple of…well, they weren't punches so much as they were strange strikes with the knife edge of his hands and palms. Janine's eyes visibly widened in confusion as she tried to determine which part of the arm was the best to block these strange assaults in order to minimize damage. Nothing was working, and through the way her eyes narrowed it was clear each block pained her greatly.

So it went for a minute, but to those watching in mesmerized silence it seemed to last an eternity. Finally, Trodaire and Janine both threw a punch at each other, only to catch it with their free hands. So they were locked in a stalemate, when suddenly Trodaire gave way.

"I concede." He said, panting heavily. "You're better than me."

Janine's eyes narrowed. "I have yet to fell you in combat!" She said. "As far as I am concerned, this battle is still ongoing!" Trodaire smiled, and Sabrina cringed.

"Oh, the only way to lose is to fall?" He asked. Without waiting for her to reply, he threw a withering roundhouse kick to the outside of her knee. When Janine dropped a knee to the ground in pain, Trodaire thrust his other foot forward firmly into her chest. Janine was sent sprawling onto the ground, her hooded cowl coming off in the confusion. Trodaire grinned. "I win!" He said giddily.

"You…you cheated!" Janine sputtered. "You waited until my guard was down and delivered a cheap attack! In a fair fight I would've had you bested easily!"

"Well, that's not much incentive for me to fight fair, now, is it?" Trodaire asked. Despite herself, Sabrina chuckled. The boy had a point. Janine, as a master ninja, should've known better than to assume that her opponent was going to fight fair. She didn't see Misty's triumphant smirk, either.

Trodaire ended the session shortly after that, stating that he was too tired to teach anything after such a worthy fight. Amidst a groan of disappointment (and the sensational sisters each giving him googly eyes…and their cell numbers), the girls filed out one by one. Well, Sabrina was the last one to do so, until right outside her gym door she was ambushed by Misty.

"You think that Trodaire's cute." It wasn't a question so much as it was a statement of fact. Sabrina turned positively scarlet.

"I do not!" She said indignantly. Misty rolled her eyes.

"As if. First, you start calling him by his name. Second, whenever you talk about him there's a bubbly air to you that you usually don't have unless you're spending the night at the Cerulean gym and it's really late at night and we've had a marathon of chick flicks. Third, ever since the gala you have not shut up about how awesome Trodaire was in putting that wench Clair in her place. Finally, you are actively looking for ways to see him." Misty rattled off each factoid with damning precision and calculation, watching Sabrina literally shrink before her confident gaze. When the psychic spoke, her voice was positively tiny.

"Ok…maybe…" She said. She shrugged. "I don't know, Mist! He's nice and all, but…" She trailed off, so Misty finished for her.

"…But he's busy with Steven and his team so you don't know what he's like in a completely relaxed setting and you don't know if he's any different than the meatheads that used to be around the Fight Club." She said. She smiled. "Why don't you just ask him?"

"Ask him what?" Sabrina asked. Misty sighed.

"Ask him if…I dunno, he wants to watch your little battle gauntlet in three weeks!" She said exasperatedly.

Oh right, that.

Perhaps, dear readers, a little context is necessary. It was a customary practice, particularly in Kanto, for the gym leaders to hold what was known as a "Battle Gauntlet." These were usually televised (at least locally) events where the gym leader would call on their best and strongest Pokemon to face off against wave after wave of the gym trainers' Pokemon. The leader's Pokemon would get no rest or restoration. The trainers' Pokemon were allowed to be Revived or have status afflictions cured with a Full Heal. It ended when the Gym Leader's Pokemon was no longer able or willing to battle. Perhaps the most famous one in recent memory was the "Rumble on Victory Road," where Lance's Dragonite had knocked down 18 challengers trying to enter Victory Road from the Indigo Plateau side. What made this a special match (seeing as how 18 wasn't a particularly large number) was that the challengers were the other members of the Kanto and Johto Elite Four, and that they were using Max Revives instead of regular Revives to restore their teams.

So there was that. Something that Sabrina had completely forgotten about.

"Oh, um, yeah!" She said uncertainly. "That could work!"

Misty just rolled her eyes. "Just give a thought to it." She said. "Just know this: guys like Trodaire aren't gonna stay on the market forever. After all, my sisters…" she said this with a roll of her eyes. "…are looking to jump all over him."

She walked away, leaving behind a flustered Psychic Master.

STEVEN

Steven Stone was unaware of this strife that had occurred two days prior, nor would he have cared. For in this moment he was in the darkened Fight Club, watching a projector screen along with the rest of his team. In the front of the group, sitting down on the padded floor, Trodaire was working the remote as well as a laser pointer.

"January 2010, three years ago." Trodaire said. "Lance vs Crasher Wake of Unova, in an exhibition match with no international ranking on the line. This is Crasher Wake's Floatzel…" he highlighted the weasel-like Pokemon with the laser pointer "…versus Lance's Haxorus." He highlighted the shining gold Dragon.

"What happened in this fight?" Steven asked. Trodaire sighed.

"Nothing much." He admitted. "Haxorus battered the poor thing into submission with a series of Slashes." He paused the video footage. "However, there is something to take from this. Watch closely." He pressed a button that put the thing on slow-motion, right in the middle of a Slash that Floatzel managed to dodge. "Notice how off-balance Haxorus is after that last Slash?" He asked. Trodaire was right. In the midst of dealing a critical hit to Floatzel, there was a brief moment where Haxorus was lunging too far with a Slash and leaving its back exposed to its opponent. "Now, Floatzel can't capitalize on this opportunity because it's not strong enough to take one of those Claws to the face. But Armaldo can." He pointed to the stout Pokemon, which nodded in agreement. Trodaire was serious. "That is the moment that you need to grapple the thing, when it gives you its back. Pick Haxorus up and stun the world by suplexing its sorry Dragon hide to the ground."

There were a few grunts of agreement from the rest of Steven's team, while Armaldo was simply passive. In the years that Steven had been a trainer, he had never quite had a Pokemon like Armaldo before. The big guy was an incredibly stoic creature, never once betraying an emotion unless absolutely necessary. This was in stark contrast to the seemingly over caffeinated Excadrill or the boisterous Aggron. They were performers: Armaldo was a technician. Get in, do the job right, and go back to the Pokeball for the rest of the time. That was the mindset of his former-fossilized partner. Steven had come to appreciate that, but at the same time enjoyed watching Trodaire attempt to get the thing to maybe crack a smile every now and then.

After film session was done for the day (and a short session of Armaldo brushing up on suplexes), Steven had recalled his team to their Pokeballs. As Trodaire prepared to close the gym for the night, Steven cleared his throat to get his attention.

"Trodaire, you got a minute?" He asked. The Orrean nodded.

"For you or Cynthia, anytime." He said. Steven blushed a little bit.

"Funny you should mention her…" He said. He sighed. "Look, this is kind of hard to talk about, because I'm not good at this sort of thing…" Trodaire raised an amused eyebrow.

"You weren't thinking of leaving her for me, were you? Cuz buddy you ain't my type." He snickered. Steven laughed.

"Arceus, no. How would that ever be possible? I love her!" He said. "Which is what I wanted to talk to you about…" He fished into his pocket and pulled out a small box. "What do you think of this?" He asked. He flicked the box open, and Trodaire just stared.

It was a ring.

No, that wasn't nearly enough to do it justice. It was a gem, sparkling silver in the middle of the small band of gold that some artisan had no doubt poured a lot of blood, sweat, and tears into. Trodaire just blinked dumbly.

"Is that what I think it is?" He asked. Steven nodded.

"I just don't know when the right time is." He said. "I mean, she and I have been together for almost three years now and it's gotten to the point where we tell each other that we love each other and we mean it and I think no I know that I want to spend the rest of my life with her and-" He stopped. "You don't need to be bored by all of that. What I do want your advice on is…when do you think I should ask her?" He said uncertainly. Trodaire just stared at him again. Here was Steven Stone, a guy Trodaire thought was slick as an oil spill and smoother than a Luvdisc's scale…stumbling over the prospect of asking a very important question to the woman that he clearly loved. Which would've been great if Trodaire knew even the first thing about love. Which he made it clear to Steven.

"Steven, I'm no lovers boy." He said. "I've never had a relationship like that." He sighed, pausing for the right words. "And yet for some reason I find myself saying that…when the time is right, you're gonna know." He said, with a small shrug. "I know it sounds like a cop-out, but that's the best I can give."

Steven nodded.

"You might not realize it, but I appreciate your opinion a lot more than you think." He said. He then smirked. "You've never been in a relationship? Why not literally ask the girl next door?" He asked. Trodaire shook his head.

"She's not interested in me. Besides that, she's evil. She made me go up against the second greatest ninja alive today." He said. Steven winced.

"How'd that go?" He asked. Trodaire shrugged.

"Eh, alright. Fought to a draw. Gave her a little delayed present, though." He said. Steven raised an eyebrow.

"What 'delayed present'?" He asked. Trodaire grinned.

"It's a late-forming bruise by her ribs. The next time she gives a haughty 'I'm better than you' laugh, she's gonna feel it." He said.

It was at that moment that, if one had complete silence outside and impeccable hearing, there came the faintest whisper of an echo of a cry of acute pain and rage in the general direction of Fuchsia City's gym. But Trodaire and Steven either didn't hear this or simply chose not to acknowledge it. Most likely the former. Steven shrugged.

"Congrats, I guess. Anyway, I'd better get back to the hotel. Cynthia is waiting for me, no doubt. Now, don't tell her anything about this, okay? I want to keep it a surprise." He walked away, wishing Paulie and Trodaire good night. Trodaire watched him leave, and then thought about something that he had said. Why not literally ask the girl next door?

He wasn't certain. And in times that he wasn't certain, he turned to the wooden dummy.

THWOCK. THWOCK-THWOCK. THWOCK.

A/N: Ooh, the secondary plots thicken! Let me know what you think! See you all next time.