A Leaf in the Wind

Ghetsis said he would write and edit his next speech himself. His most recent speech was a relative success, and that was written without any outside help. The written word is an art form that, Ghetsis thinks, is mastered by few and ruined by many. Such creation must be perfected before it is converted to the spoken word, for speech is one of the few means that can bring new meaning to what one has written.

So, as Ghetsis mercilessly manipulates his work—which includes: replacing dull explanations with pathos-charged metaphors; critically re-arranging the order of words in a sentence designed to persuade; maintaining the delicate balance of guilting his audience and presenting logic; and getting rid of dull, useless, primitive words in favor of something erudite (preferably a word most of the audience wouldn't understand, so as to overwhelm them with intellect)—he imagines how he will present each statement to a crowd, right down to each syllable, pause, and breath.

He is deep in his creative process when he is interrupted by three sharp knocks pounding against the door of his office.

He sighs and puts his pen aside. "You may enter."

A trio of shadowy figures enters the office.

"Lord Ghetsis. We have finished the investigation of the girl and her friends."

"And the report?"

"Finished. Everything you need to know is here," the tallest member of the trio hands Ghetsis a manila folder.

Ghetsis quickly thumbs through the first page.

Cheren Musoka, he notes, glancing briefly at the picture of the dark haired boy. Unimportant.

He lingers for a significant moment on the second page.

Hilbert Douglas. Son of a former gym leader. Interesting, but otherwise unimportant.

He turns the page, looking at the picture of a blonde girl carefully, for every threat to Team Plasma is to be thoroughly recognized.

Bianca Verity. 14 years old...interfered with Team Plasma on two separate occasions, but did not appear to be a willing participant.

And then he finds what he is looking for:

Andrea Marisol Whitelea

Age: 15

Birthplace: Floccesy Town

Address: 5 E. Brookrose Lane, Nuvema Town

Height: 5'6"/168 cm

Weight: 115 lbs/52.2 kg

Allergies: None

Medical history: Broken arm at age 8, history of dizziness and poor appetite

Born prematurely on a trip Mr. and Mrs. Whitelea took to visit Mrs. Whitelea's parents in Floccesy Town. Parents moved back to their home in Slateport, Hoenn to raise her. Moved to Nuvema Town, Unova with mother at age 10. Currently traveling Unova as a pokémon trainer. Willingly and defiantly interfered with Team Plasma on two separate occasions.

Ms. Whitelea appears to be reckless, hot-headed, not particularly intelligent. Persuasive, especially with the naïve Ms. Verity, with whom she is very close with and protective of. Appears to be good at battling, physically fit. Oshawott is partner pokémon, and she recently obtained a pansear.

Whitelea...where have I heard that name before?

Ghetsis flips the page. He is pleased to be met with records of her parents (stapled so neatly to Ms. Whitelea's report!); after all, the Shadow Triad rarely fails to meet demands.

Mother: Evelyn Whitelea

Maiden name: Álvarez Esteve

Age: 35

Birthplace: Floccesy Town, Unova

Address: 5 E. Brookrose Lane, Nuvema Town

Occupation: Retired. Former daycare assistant, student, trainer

Offspring: 1

Father: Kaʻiminaʻauao Whitelea

Alias: Terrence Whitelea

Age: 54

Birthplace: Seafolk Village, Alola

Address: Unknown

Occupation: Retired. Former professor, student, sailor, trainer

Offspring: 1 known.

Ghetsis chuckles, a dark shadow falling over his face. It appears that fate is giving him a second chance.

"Find Mr. Whitelea and set up a meeting. The sooner the better."

Each member of the Triad hesitates, if only for the blink of an eye. Finding a man who considers home wherever he lies his head on any given night is no easy task.

Ghetsis senses this.

"You may attend to your other duties first, so as to avoid suspicion," he glances up at the Triad, "but after that is settled: try Kalos. Anistar City."

They kneel. "Yes, Lord Ghetsis."

"You may go."

They vanish.

Ghetsis flips through the pages of the report once more. He observes the grainy image of the girl, analyzing the steadfast gaze of her azure eyes.

There's no way she could be…

His thoughts are interrupted by yet another knock at his door.

Ghetsis sighs, wondering if he will ever be able to finish a task uninterrupted.. "You may enter…"

The door opens. Ghetsis sees the means to achieve his dreams before his very eyes, resolute and blazing, yet imperfect and pathetic.

Of course. There's no way she could be the one. But I must not take any chances.

It has been nearly a week since Bianca, Andrea, and Hilbert first arrived in Striaton.

Andrea and Hilbert are sitting on a bench in front of the crystal clear pond. Bianca, "not feeling too well," is stuck in their hotel room, conveniently leaving her two friends with only each other. The air is filled with the revitalizing scent of fresh pine; it makes Andrea feel reborn and pure. She and Hilbert have been telling each other hilariously unfortunate stories for hours now. Their pokémon play around the garden; Patrat hops across the stepping stones of the pond, sniffing about in search of something, Emolga glides above them, and Kai swims laps in the lake, careful not to splash the wary Bernie, who is sitting very rigidly and fearfully on a rather large stone (how he got atop the stone remains a mystery).

"Anyways," Hilbert begins, "the main two characters started to make out and, you know, one thing led to another, and my mom freaked."

"Oh no," Andrea sympathizes.

"In the crowded theater, she yelled "OH ARCEUS," scrambled over to cover my eyes, and complained about how "corrupt movies are now-a-days!" My dad tried to calm her down and told her I was old enough to see something that wasn't even that bad, but she wasn't having it. To make matters worse, there was a group of teens behind us who kept laughing at my mom and shouting lewd comments about the movie. Traumatizing."

"Well…" Andrea winces. "At least your dad was there to...fight for you?"

"Believe it or not, pops was actually way more embarrassing. He didn't give a shit about who saw or recognized him or how the media thought my mom had converted him to a conservative hillbilly. Whenever we went out he wore cargo shorts and socks with sandals. Sunglasses with the cord wrapped behind his neck. And whenever someone would recognize him, he'd say "yup, in the flesh! And this is my son, Hilbert," and 9 times out of 10 he'd pull me over and give me a noogie.

"Incredible."

"But the most embarrassing thing he did was talk about me going through puberty early...on national television."

Andrea's eyes stretch comically wide. "WHAT?" The volume of her voice made their pokémon jolt in surprise. Then she burst into deafening, boisterous laughter.

Hilbert bashfully rubs the back of his neck, as if attempting to get rid of a persistent itch. "Yeah..."

She continues to cackle. "Why has no one ever told me this?"

"That is the one thing Cheren and Bianca agreed to never humiliate me about..."

"Wow," Andrea says. "I'm surprised they kept that a secret for so long. Actually, I'm shocked your dad would do that! He didn't seem that embarrassing..." Andrea recalls the few times she met Mr. Douglas—the burly, happy man, who often teased Hilbert about his "lady friend," but didn't do much else to embarrass him in front of her.

Hilbert bristles and looks down at his feet. "Yeah…"

Andrea wants to slap herself for her carelessness; it hasn't been that long since…

Hilbert's eyes remain glued to the floor. Andrea gives him a sympathetic glance. "I'm really sorry...about how I said it, I mean…"

He shakes his head. "Don't worry about it."

"And, and I'm sorry about...about what happened."

"Me too. I mean, he was sick but I guess I never really thought he would actually…"

After an eternity of silence, Hilbert sucks in a deep breath and wills himself to speak. "What's the most embarrassing your folks have done?"

Andrea cringes, and after a moment, murmurs, "Get married."

"Wow. Ruthless."

She shrugs and shares a secretive smirk.

"You're serious?"

"Well, um...I mean, my mom...she's cool; the most embarrassing thing she does is coddle me in front of you guys. My dad was like that too."

"I think that's the most I've ever heard about your folks."

"That's for the better."

"It can't be that bad."

Andrea raises her eyebrow. "Wanna bet?"

"Sure."

"Well, they met at a university for advanced teenagers—"

"Ok."

"But uh, here's the kicker—they weren't classmates…"

Hilbert blinks. "So he was like, a grade above?"

"Uh, try a few. Like several. Like he had already graduated decades earlier. And became a professor."

Hilbert gasps. "No fucking way…"

Andrea tiredly smirks. "Scandalous, right?"

Hilbert's mouth remains agape.

"Now can you see why I don't like to talk about my folks?"

"Nah, now you've just made me curious," He grins. "I thought your mom just looked really young!"

"Surprise," Andrea dryly waves her hands.

"What was that like?"

Andrea squints. "What was what like?"

"Their relationship. I mean, the whole thing is kinda weird…Did anyone ever treat you or your folks differently?"

She shrugs. "Well I didn't really notice because I didn't know any better; I thought the age gap was normal. Sure, looking back, they got weird stares from the other kids and parents but I was really young. I didn't think too much if it."

"How did he, like, seduce her?" Hilbert raises his eyebrows deviously.

"Ew, shut up!" Andrea shouts and punches Hilbert's arm in an attempt to stop his laughter. "You're disgusting! How would I even know that?"

"I dunno, my parents told me about how they met so I thought maybe…"

"Actually, why would I even want to think about it?" Andrea interrupts in disgust. "It's probably like, super creepy. I mean, how would you feel if your teacher hit on you?"

Hilbert crinkles his nose. "Yeah, you're right," he pauses, smirking deviously. "Unless she was like, super hot."

Andrea rolls her eyes. "I guess all boys really are the same."

"Hey! I can't help but appreciate beauty. Is that so wrong?"

Andrea scoffs, but she is smiling bemusedly.

"Do you think your dad was a bad person?"

"No. If anything he was just a pervert. But he was a good dad...when he was around, I guess."

"What else was he like?" Hilbert asks.

"He was…" she stops, suddenly overcome with bitterness and dejection. "I don't wanna talk about him."

"Oh, alright." Hilbert replies softly.

He understands. He really did want to get to know her better, but he totally understands. Who would want to talk about their dad who left them at the age of 10?

So he let it go and simply rubs her shoulder. "Sorry if I upset you or if I got too personal, Andi."

Andrea flushes at the gesture. "No no, it's cool. It's not your fault. I'm fine."

Neither of their voices fill the fresh spring air. Hilbert can't stand the silence; he feels like he has to say something or else it'll be really awkward and painful for the both of them. Thankfully, Andrea feels the same.

"So what do you wanna do in life?" She inwardly cringes at her stiff attempt to break the silence.

"Oh, you know. Get all 8 gym badges. Beat the Elite Four. Become Unova's next champion. No big deal."

Andrea laughs. "So you'll be fighting Cheren for that spot."

"Yup!"

"That's a fight I gotta see."

"What about you?"

"Oh, you know…I don't know…"

"Really?" He inquires astoundingly. "Why'd you wanna come on this journey?"

"I just wanted to travel and experience life. Learn new things, meet new people, befriend more pokémon…" she smiles fondly. "Maybe then I'll figure out what I wanna do."

"You should challenge Cheren and I for that champion position."

"Yeah, right."

"I'm serious!" Hilbert eagerly exclaims. "You're pretty talented for just becoming a trainer."

"You mean that?"

"Hell yeah," He assures.

"Thanks, I just…" she sighs. "I've just been thinking about what Team Plasma said...and N…"

"Really? Don't you think they're a bit weird?"

"Team Plasma? Sure. But N…" she gazes at her reflection in the lake. "Kinda. He's different. I guess we tend to see different as weird."

"So he is weird."

"No no, I mean...I've never met anyone who thinks like him. Come on, how cool is it that he can talk to pokémon?"

"Uh-huh, whatever you say…" Hilbert smirks.

Andrea scoffs mockingly, but says nothing.

"Come on, even his name is weird! What kind of parent names their kid after a fucking letter?" Hilbert shakes his head, laughing in secondhand embarrassment. "Anyways, about Team Plasma, it's not like their opinions are worth much...so don't let them get you down."

Andrea looks at him thoughtfully. "You don't think they have a point? I mean, even after that thing they did to the munna...that leader—Ghetsis or whatever—said some pretty revolutionary things."

"How can I take anything any of them say seriously when they're dressed like that?" Hilbert laughs. That seemed to make her smile. Good.

"If Pokemon aren't happy being with us, I think they would've turned against us a long time ago," Hilbert continues.

Andrea smiles warmly, her eyes crinkling with genuine appreciation. "Thanks, Hilbert. That really helps."

"No problem."

They stay silent for a bit longer. Then Andrea speaks up.

"He was supportive, and charismatic, and very intelligent."

Hilbert turns to her, a confused look evident in his eyes. "Huh?"

Then he understands. Her dad. And she understands that he understands.

"That's why I was so surprised he'd leave...it was so unlike him.

"I'm sorry," she continues suddenly, trying to subtly swipe at her eyes. "I just—"

He pulls her into his arms without warning. "I know what you mean. Don't worry about it."

She hugs him back, clutching onto the back of his jacket like a lifeline. They slowly separate. He reaches out, intending to dab out a stray tear rolling down her jawline, but then he gets nervous and resorts to placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Andrea, I…"

Her eyes widen. She can't remember the last time he's used her actual name.

"You know, you're a really cool girl, and I, uh, I had a lot of fun hanging out with you today. Anyways, someone as cool as you doesn't deserve to cry and shit. I uh, I really hate to see you upset."

"Hilbert," Andrea sighs, giving him a teary-eyed smile. "That's...really sweet. Thank you."

"Yeah no prob."

This is it, he thinks This is the moment. Be a man. Do it.

"Uh, there's something else I've been wanting to tell you."

Her puffy eyes blink with curiosity. "Oh sure, what's up?"

He takes a deep breath. "Andrea, I…"

Her heart skips a beat.

He lifts his head up, looking at her, eyes swimming in determination.

"I—"

Loud voices and clicks drown out his next syllable. The two turn westward. Large flashing lights emanate from a loud crowd of civilians and paparazzi alike. A sleek, black car drives by them. It seems to be going towards the gym.

Andrea and Hilbert look at each other knowingly. Cheren's warnings and Andrea's run-ins with Team Plasma completely vanish from Andrea's mind as she and Hilbert both break into curious and excited smiles.

They quickly stand up and recall their pokémon to their respective poké balls. Hilbert subconsciously grabs her hand, and they sprint towards the crowd.

Cheren is tired of waiting. He is going to charge into the gym and demand to know when the gym leaders are coming.

And then, in the blink of an eye, he is swept up into a crowd of excited people.

Finally, when the crowd stops moving, he gains awareness of his surroundings. He is tall enough to see above the heads of the crowd. He has been pushed toward the gym, where a black Rolls Royce sits, so shiny that he can see the faces of the crowd reflected on its surface. It parks directly in front of the gym's steps. Then a chauffeur steps out and opens the back door on the opposite side of the crowd. A head full of fiery red hair emerges and Cheren bristles.

Sure enough, it is the youngest brother of the Striaton Gym Trio, Chili, who is somehow unfazed by the noise and bright flashes, and is already winking for the paparazzi cameras. He wears the same, cocky smile that irritates Cheren to no end.

The two older brothers emerge from the car. The green-haired Cilan faces the crowd, smiling charmingly, and waving to the citizens of Striaton. His eldest brother, Cress, simply brushes his blue hair into place, not caring to soften his solemn expression as he coolly gazes above the heads of the crowd.

The crowd surges forward, emitting various excited squeals and lines of vigorous questioning. Cheren is helplessly pushed to the back of the crowd.

"Chili, Cress, Cilan!" Someone from the front of the crowd yells. "What was the nature of the business you had to conduct? Was it really a business meeting? Why weren't the other gym leaders gone as well?"

"The gym leaders will not be answering any questions as of now, nor will they be battling until tomorrow," a professional looking man announces, stepping in between the gym leaders and the eager crowd. Cheren remembers him as Clyde, the guide of the gym who gave him battle tips and informed him of the gym leaders' sudden leave.

"But gentlemen," a different member of the paparazzi inquires, "what kind of business meeting requires such an abrupt leave?!"

Cheren scoffs. Seeing the paparazzi in action is a fascinating experience for someone who grew up far from the city. They really are as desperate as his parents said they are; somehow, they'll find a way to twist something so average into a scandalous conspiracy theory. He almost feels sorry for the gym leaders.

Almost.

Clyde stiffens, clearly intimidated by the immense crowd. "As I said before, the gym leaders won't be taking any questions as of now, nor will they be accepting any challenges. They are very tired from their trip."

The paparazzi continues to aggravate, each question getting more and more ridiculous (which Cheren thought wasn't possible). Clyde has amazing patience. He is sweaty and nervous, but he doesn't give up on trying to calm the crowd.

While Clyde is trying to pacify a particularly testy cameraman-interviewer duo, there is a break from the crowd. A flash of colors zips up the steps of the gym. Before Clyde can comprehend what happened, two people are standing right behind the gym leaders. Their sudden presence causes the gym leaders to turn around.

It is then that Cheren realizes that the two are Hilbert and Andrea. Hand in hand. As if they sense Cheren's observation, they both simultaneously let go of each other's hands and avoid looking at each other.

Cheren is taken aback and remains frozen for a moment. It's as if he is causing time itself to slowly freeze around him. The noise and movement of the crowd is drowned out of his consciousness.

How did Andrea and Hilbert get past the crowd? How could they have already made it up there while he was still down here?

Something angry boils in his stomach.

Cheren comes to his senses when he hears Hilbert challenge the leaders to a battle. He scoffs, thinking about how idiotic of Hilbert it is to challenge them when it was made clear there are to be no battles.

But there's something about Hilbert's passion and recklessness that makes Cheren a little jealous, too. He doesn't want to wait around and see if the gym leaders will actually listen to Hilbert.

Not that they would actually listen, he thinks, attempting to reassure himself.

He grits his teeth, as if attempting to grind out his bitterness, and silently leaves the crowd, not wanting his friends or any of the gym leaders to catch a glimpse of him.

"Battle me!"

Andrea is shocked. Sure, Hilbert has always been adventurous, but not impulsive enough to go from talking about his dad to pushing through crowds of people just to uselessly challenge the gym leaders. It's almost like Hilbert was trying to be Ash Ketchum, that kid from that one cartoon show everyone seemed to love.

Still, Hilbert is acting odd today. Maybe today was one of those days where he feels terribly motivated. Hell, maybe today is the day he decided that nothing would get in the way of his dreams. Whatever it is, Andrea can't help but feel a little proud; her rashness was finally rubbing off on everyone! She always wondered: What's the point of living life if you're not going to have a little fun?

Every passing moment after Hilbert's challenge flows as slow as molasses. The green haired leader turns to Andrea and Hilbert, looking quite baffled. The red-head also looks confused, squinting his eyes in a mocking and sarcastic manner. The blue haired one barely turns around, only acknowledging them with a cold side glance.

Then, the redhead scoffs. "Are you for real, kid? Clyde just said we're not battling anyone. Are you, like, deaf?"

The young leader's brashness causes Hilbert to flinch, his bravado quickly dissolving away. He is so taken aback by the rejection that the gears in his mind froze, preventing him from saying anything coherent.

Andrea steps forward, crossing her arms, and shifts her weight to her right hip. "Aren't you a little too short and young to be calling people "kid?""

The leader turns red and scowls. "I'm almost 16."

He turns to glare at the elder leaders, who are trying to hold in laughter.

Andrea rolls her eyes. "Whatever. You should show this guy some more respect. He's an awesome trainer," she grins. "Actually, he's Harvey Douglas' son, so you should feel flattered he'd push through the crowd just to challenge you!"

Hilbert blushes. "Uh, Andi, I don't-"

"I don't care if he's the next champion!" The redhead retorts. "Did we not make it obvious that—"

The green haired leader steps forward, coolly placing his hand on the fiery young man's shoulder. "Please excuse my younger brother; he has a short-temper, and thus tends to get aggravated rather easily."

"Cilan I swear to Arceus—"

"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Cilan, one of the Striaton gym leaders," He gestures to the rash red-head. "This is Chili, my youngest brother and a fellow Striaton gym leader."

"Nice to meet ya, or whatever."

If Cilan is annoyed with Chili's rude behavior, he certainly doesn't show it.

"And this," he smoothly continues, referring to the blue haired main behind him, "is Cress, our eldest brother and the only other Striaton gym leader."

Cress nods in bored acknowledgment.

"And you are?"

Hilbert stiffens, feeling the need to redeem himself. "I-I'm Hilbert Douglas, and this is my friend Andrea. My dad was a gym leader so I wanna be like him and beat all the gyms in Unova, but I also wanna beat the elite four and champion so that I can become the champion hopefully," he spills out, tumbling over his words.

Cilan hums in interest. "Is that so? Well, Hilbert, under normal circumstances we'd be more than willing to accept challenges, especially from someone as motivated and passionate as yourself. However, considering we got back from a rather grueling business trip and equally exhausting car ride, we would very much appreciate an evening to unwind before getting back to work."

Hilbert and Andrea stare at him with wide eyes. The young man is only a few years older than them, yet he speaks so eloquently, his speech rivaling Cheren's vast vocabulary. Andrea cast Hilbert a glance that seemed to say: Is this guy for real? He returns her gaze with an equally shocked one that seems to say: People other than Cheren actually talk like this?

"That being said, we'll be back to accepting challenges tomorrow. Unfortunately, you will have to wait until tomorrow afternoon, as I have a class to teach at the local Trainer's school tomorrow morning. We apologize for the inconvenience. I do hope you can understand our circumstance."

Hilbert blinks. "Uh, yeah, sure…"

Cilan smiles. "We appreciate your patience. Hopefully you will be challenging us soon."

The crowd significantly shrunk by the time the gym leaders and Clyde enter the gym. Now only members of the paparazzi linger about, gathering themselves into small groups and discussing plans of action. Andrea wonders if, for whatever reason, they have taken pictures of her and Hilbert.

"It's getting late," Hilbert says, thoughtfully looking off into the distance. "We should probably get going."

Andrea uncomfortably chuckles, trying to hide a sinking feeling of disappointment. "Is it?"

He shrugs. "Not really. But what else is there to do?"

Andrea averts her gaze away from him as her stomach drops. She hates getting so upset over nothing. It's not like he's abandoning her; he just wants to go back to the hotel and rest. But she wonders: is it really nothing? Why am I taking it so personally?

She likes him; that much is clear. Even Bianca and Cheren know it. So of course she wants Hilbert to like her back, and sometimes, she even thinks he does. Today was one of those days she thought they had a chance.

Well, that's what I get for over analyzing things. I always disappoint myself. I should just be happy for our friendship. Screw what Bianca thinks, and screw what Cheren thinks! What's the point of wanting something if I never get it?

A multitude feelings and thoughts race through her head in a matter of seconds.

"Besides," Hilbert speaks up, smiling eagerly. "I wanna focus on the battle tomorrow and come up with strategies!"

She straightens her back, pushes her lips into what she hopes is a convincing smile, and wills herself to look into his eyes. "Oh, right!"

Hilbert shoves his hands in his pockets and motions his head away from the gym. His eyes turn gold in the setting sun and gleam with a satisfied contentedness. "Come on. Maybe if we get back fast enough we can catch some more Sweethearts of Hearthome."

Andrea smiles. "Nice!"

And as they walk off into the city, Andrea can't help but think of Hilbert's fiery ambition, so uncontrolled and unpredictable. She is rash, true, but he is mindfully rash, impulsive with a purpose, trigger-happy for a dream. This is the aptitude of someone who has grand expectations of life, who sees the whole world just out of reach, who deems it imperative to succeed, not even for himself, but for some other person, some outside force willing him to go forward, forward, forward.

Maybe he and Cheren weren't so different after all, Andrea muses.

But whereas Cheren sees everything as a threat to be defeated, Hilbert simply sees a bump in the road.

Well, Andrea thinks, life does suck. It's hard. But it's also beautiful. It's extraordinary and baffling and breathtaking, and although she'd like to believe that she was in control of her future, something deep within her feels otherwise. Some deep, primitive part of her being knows that everything happens for a reason, that something bigger was at play, that she is destined for something.

But what?

She isn't the driven protagonist, like Hilbert, nor the relentless underdog, like Cheren, nor the whimsical sidekick, like Bianca. She is like a leaf in the wind, swaying about and trying to find a rhythm—a purpose.

She looks at Hilbert, hard, in an attempt to figure out what it is that gives him a sense of purpose in such a confusing world. To him, everything in life as an opportunity to win. But why? What is he winning? What's the point of winning if he doesn't know why he does what he does? Is that why he's so vibrant—is the desire to win the essence of life?

Maybe he continues to want, even if he knows what he wants can't be his.

Andrea wakes up early the next day. She wants to go on a walk with Kai and Bernie, check out the trainer school, and, hopefully, catch a glimpse of Cilan. There is something fascinating about him other than his eloquent speech; perhaps just the fact that he has to be a good trainer that provoked her curiosity. Even though Andrea isn't particularly driven to have a role as the champion and defeat all the gyms, there is something thrilling about battling; the rush of adrenaline, the intensity, the pride, the competition, the bond between her and her pokémon—it is truly incomprehensible. She smiles just thinking about it.

It's nice to have a hobby, something to be interested in, something to make me feel...alive.

She had hoped Bianca or Hilbert would join her, but they both had decided to sleep in (well, it wasn't much of a decision for Bianca; she always slept in. Hilbert, on the other hand, swore not to wake up until the afternoon so he'd feel well-rested—a bit of an understatement for a 14 hour sleeping period). Truth be told, Andrea is a little nervous to go alone solely because of the possibility that she'll run into Cilan face-to-face and have to talk to him. Sure, she is confident, for the most part, but this is different. Despite barely meeting him, she respects the gym leader because...well, because he is a gym leader.

She stares at her eyes in the mirror. Steadfast, she didn't move, didn't blink, only tenses and stares down her reflection. What does she see? Full, furrowed eyebrows. Bold blue eyes with an intense glint. Curly, tangled hair messily pulled into a ponytail and looped through her pink cap.

She takes a deep breath, observes herself for a moment longer, and leaves the hotel room.

Symbols and arrows and words and foreign academic terms are scribbled all across the whiteboard in a vast spectrum of colors. Children chirp, wander about, and leaf through booklets, brochures, and dictionaries during their study hall. The classroom smells of old books and stale chocolate chip cookies. A lean figure stands right in front of board. He sighs, bends his head down, and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"It doesn't make sense...I know all of this! Why can't I beat him?"

He scoffs and throws his arms up in the air. "Well, what am I gonna do now? I don't have much time before the others start catching up. Think, Cheren. Think."

He stands with his back towards the whiteboard, holds his chin in between his index finger and thumb, and taps his foot to the rhythm of an impatient man who, after obtaining all of the knowledge available to him, cannot find the solution to his current dilemma.

"Perhaps there is a book I have yet to read."

He swiftly makes his way to the bookshelves and hurriedly skims over each title and author. He does not to seem to notice the door of the Trainer School opening and the excited shuffling of children who have gathered in the center of the classroom.

"Good morning, class. I am pleased to have the opportunity to teach today's lesson about battle strategies and type matchups."

Cheren freezes. He knows that voice.

He peers around the bookshelf and sees Cilan himself standing at the front of the class.

Just my luck.

Far too ashamed to face the leader, he stays hidden behind the bookshelf. No way is he showing his face to Cilan after losing to that cocky, simple-minded younger brother of his; he just can't. He tries to drown his embarrassment out as he pulls out his notebook and takes notes of the advice Cilan gives the children.

As Cilan concludes his lesson, Cheren looks over his notes of the most important things Cilan said:

-Battle people, make friends, battle friends. Real life experience is irreplaceable

-Don't get buried in the books. Knowledge means nothing if you can't apply it

-Get familiarized with type advantages/disadvantages.

-Develop a friendship w/ your pokémon

Cheren finds himself unable to tear his eyes away from the first point. Has he been doing everything wrong? Should he develop rivalries with his friends instead of alienating them? How is he supposed to remain close to them without recognizing them for what they are—competition?

"Ah, Cheren! I didn't see you there. How are you?"

Cheren was so deep in thought that he doesn't notice Cilan has approached him. He nearly jumps up from the surprise.

Oh Arceus, just end my life now.

"I'm fine," he clears his throat to hide the shakiness of his voice. Keep it cool. Calm and collected. This is what Cheren is. "Just...studying."

"I see. Well, good luck. I hope to see you soon at our gym! I'm sure Chili would be excited for a rematch."

"Thanks," Cheren replies dryly, barely acknowledging Cilan.

Silence hangs in the air like a stifling weight threatening to push the young men down to the floor.

"Alright, well, um…" Cilan awkwardly looks away. "Goodbye, then."

"Bye."

It was only when Cilan leaves the building that Cheren releases a breath he didn't know he was holding. He lightly bangs his head against a shelf in front of him. He clenches his fist around the edge of the shelf and tries to regain the integrity he deems to have lost.

He's done with this stupid trainer school and stupid whiteboards and stupid books and stupid children. He has to keep moving. Without thinking of what exactly his next step is, he storms off towards the exit.

Hastily, he pushes the door open. He sees a flash of wide eyes and an expression of shock. It takes him less than a second to realize that the blur of a person on the other side of the door was trying to open the door, and that he had nearly pushed it into their face and knocked them off the steps.

Too irritated to display proper etiquette, he coldly says, "Excuse me," and attempts to walk out.

"Cheren?!"

He swiftly turns his attention to the figure he had blurred out.

"Andi?"

The two stare at each other for a long moment before Andrea punches him in the stomach.

Doubled over, Cheren glances up at Andrea and the oshawott (who looks quite confused about the current situation) perched atop her shoulder.

"What in the world was that for?!"

"You pretentious asshole!"

"'Pretentious?' Really, Andi?" Cheren groans, attempting to stand up straight. "I would have never lent you my dictionary—which, by the way, you have yet to return—if I had known you weren't going to learn from it."

Andrea remembers the memory well. She had gotten in a particularly nasty fight with her mom and wanted to give her a perfectly written apology letter. However, Andrea has never been a good writer. So, she went to Cheren and asked him to edit it, but he simply handed her a dictionary and sent her on her way, claiming that it was "too personal" of an issue to get him involved and that "all the spelling and grammatical errors would give [him] a headache." Andrea just thinks that he was too lazy to help.

"You idiot, I know exactly what it means!" Andrea scowls. Kai chirps supportively in agreement.

"Andi, please, stop, you're making a scene," Cheren hushes, guiding Andrea and himself away from the entrance of the Trainer's School. "What is all of this about anyways?"

"The note."

Cheren rolls his eyes and sighs. "What does this have to do with me being pretentious?"

"You could have written a note said "ya'll suck, bye," but no."

Cheren pinched the bridge of his nose. "Well, clearly I didn't, because that's not how I feel."

"Whatever," Andrea retaliates. "You're still pretentious. And an asshole."

"What are you trying to achieve here?" Cheren asks for what seems like the billionth time. He appreciates Andrea as a friend dearly, but right now she is just giving him a migraine.

"Justice."

"I'm sorry?" He squints in confusion. Why can't she just get to the point? Why do all of his friends act like they're in some kind of drama? Had their irrationality and semantics finally rubbed off on him (he thought about his farewell note and instinctively cringed)? Arceus.

"You made Bianca cry!"

The color drains from Cheren's face. "What?"

An image of Bianca's puffy eyes when she had exited the Accumula hotel room right after reading Cheren's note flashes through Andrea's mind.

"You of all people should know how sensitive she is."

"I didn't mean to hurt her…"

"I know. But for being as logical as you are you should have thought that leaving would have hurt her."

Cheren can't bear to look at his friend. She's right. He can't bring himself to admit it.

Silence plagues the pair. Kai keeps to himself, nonchalantly grooming his side and producing occasional scratching noises.

"How are you guys?" Cheren, finally, asks stiffly.

Andrea rolls her eyes at his attempt to change the subject. "She's doing fine. Hilbert and I are ok too. We were just worried about you—you kinda vanished."

"I think you're being a little melodramatic."

"Whatever. I'm just glad to see you're doing alright."

There is another pregnant silence.

"Have you challenged the gym yet?" Cheren asks.

"I was just going to!" Andrea exclaims, nearly forgetting about their tense exchange. "What about you?"

Cheren stiffens. "Yeah, I was going to challenge them later today, too. Actually, one of the gym leaders was here teaching a class. You just missed him."

"Ah, shit. It would've been cool to run into him," Andrea pouts. "Well, I guess I'll check out the Trainer's School."

"There's not much to see."

"Really? Well, I don't—"

"Enough of the small talk." Cheren interjects harshly. "Battle me. I need to practice the new skills I've learned."

Andrea blinks at him in shock, her mouth hanging slightly ajar. Even Kai's eyes are wide, surprised by Cheren's harshness towards his partner.

He sighs. "You clearly want to challenge the gym."

"Well, sure. Yeah."

"So why not battle me?" He presses. "I've challenged the gym before; it'd be good practice."

Andrea's eyes widen. He's challenged the gym before?

"O-oh, I thought…"

Well I guess he never said if he has or hasn't challenged them before...

Andrea shakes her head. "Nevermind. Let's do it. It'll be fun!"

Cheren scoffs. "'Fun…'"

The two move away from the school to what they deem a discreet spot to battle.

Andrea turns to Kai and winks. "Alright buddy, let's do this."

Kai squeals in excitement and jumps off of her shoulder. He stands bravely on the battlefield.

Andrea turns her attention to Cheren. He is clutching a poké ball and staring solemnly onto the battlefield, trying to recall all of Andrea's strategies in their first battle, envisioning the passion she demonstrated in her movements while battling the strange N. If he doesn't beat her, how can he expect to beat the gym leaders of Striaton? If he doesn't beat her, how can he expect to beat every other gym throughout the region? If he doesn't beat her, how can he call himself a competent trainer?

I have to win.

The winds sweeps through the battlefield, filling Andrea with a rush of determination. There is something promising in the wind, something that reminds her of the importance of her circumstances, and challenging the gym would be a testament of that, with a hard-earned gym badge—her very first—she would feel like a true trainer. Maybe the wind would finally let her land so she would no longer be an aimless fragment of something larger.

Andrea closes her eyes and inhales the miraculously fresh air of the small city. She opens her eyes to find Cheren still frozen in place, pondering Arceus-knows-what.

"Well?" Andrea smirks. "What are you waiting for?"