Those seeking knowledge need look no further than the oranges of Paldea.

It is a saying as old as Naranja academy itself, and with good reason. The prestigious institution had been the region's de facto leading force in education, research, and cultural development for the better part of eight centuries. And managing such an institution, which had become synonymous with success, wasn't an enviable task. But new as he was to his position, Director Clavell was not worried about the challenges it would bring. Conversely, he was eager to learn and grow into a fine dean, like many admirable predecessors before him. To learn of, connect, and grow with his students, to become truly fit for the title that was bestowed to him.

That is to say, was the reason he had dressed himself and bought a cab all the way out to Cabo Poco. A small hamlet perched all the way on the southern border of the peninsula. And a peculiar family had just migrated to this hamlet. Not peculiar in their character, or their mannerisms. But peculiar in their request. More so in its timing. They wanted to transfer their son into the academy… except it was only a month before the oft-dreaded ‟exam season" that would close the year out. Clavell had drawn attention to this, and explained how it would not be long until a new academic year would begin, yet they insisted. So there he was, without even having breakfast, he'd come with enrollment documents in hand to learn more about this enigmatic family. He cleared his throat as he walked up to the door.

He stepped out of the house, the door closing behind him. He had to now wait for the student to get ready. And he had an amendment to make, he'd referred to this family as ‟they", because it was three people on paper. But in reality it consisted of a single mother and her son. There was no trace of a father, except maybe in the deep wrinkles on the woman's face… He got a chance to speak with her over tea, and even though she wasn't very familiar with Paldean, she did give him an idea of the prospect transfer student. Like every parent he'd met with, all she talked about was her son. Of course it was naught but glowing praises, most of which he was wary of trusting. But there were some things that stuck out to him as curious. Apparently their move to Paldea was specifically because of the boy's passion for pokémon. And he'd always loved pokémon and wanted to own one. And he'd taught himself Paldean just to be able to attend Naranja. Which wasn't wasted effort, given his great scores on the Paldean aptitude test. And he'd been hard-working from a very young age…

Ambitious andhard-working? That certainly was the winning combination for academic success. He could see why such a scholar would want to jump-start his scholarly career. As he rubbed his chin thoughtfully, the director released three pokémon, leftover from the year's start. Sprigatito, Quaxly, and a Fuecoco. Being unchosen, they had become a bit of a literal litter of teachers' pets. Clavell predicted the kid would choose Quaxly, on the account of its extremely cool haircut. How could he not, logically speaking?

From the hurried footsteps rushing down the stairs, it seems the pupil was ready. He clears his throat as the door opens.

‟Hello, Master Haruto. I am the director of Naranja aca—"

‟HellomisterClavelli'msosorryittooksolongto— Glrk—" Before he could even understand a single word, the boy had tripped over the door stop and slammed face-first into the ground.

That was certainly surprising, but not enough to phase him, ‟…Ha ha, no need to hurry yourself as such. If you need any—"

‟Nothanks! I'm good… I just got a bit— Oh—Awww~" And this time, Master Haruto had locked eyes with the Sprigatito, who had wandered up to him out of curiosity. And of course, he forgot he was speaking a sentence, and started playing with the cat.

… Sure, the kid sounded a bit unusual, but director Clavell had three Phd.'s in teaching and dealing with teenagers. ‟Oho! I see you've already met Sprigatito, the Grass Cat Pokémon. I would be happy to show and explain to you the rest… If only you'd get up," instead of petting it, he refrained to say.

‟—Huh? What?! I was just playing with the springkitty… Oh, Mr. Clavell! In Naranja, do I have to batt— Eh?! There's a duckling in our sink! Look mister, look!" he started crouching over to the Quaxly posing under its own 'waterfall'. Then he turned to a confused-looking bipedal crocodile. ‟DirectorClavell, here! What's this red thing!? Wait, didn't you say something about explaining the pokémon?"

…One of the director's eyes twitched. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he failed to hide a groan.

Master Haruto was one of those kids.

… At least he liked pokémon.

It all started one early morning on a lazy Saturday spring. And it was by complete coincidence, too. Wasn't that funny?… She yawned again, fourth time that morning. Her neck slowly rolled to life. Last night Nemona had slept like… 8 hours? A criminal amount of sleep, she was surprised she wasn't caught for hoarding it all to herself. But no, she was free as can be, had the whole weekend to herself. There was no director to pile his work onto the student council. Nosister to tell her how to live her life. And nobodyto '''find''' her time for extra tutoring. She had two full days she could spend on anything. And when she thought ~anything~, one thing came to mind…

‟If only there wasanyone to battle, though." She grumbled. Maybe she could train new pokémon. She's been thinking about making a mono-type team. Or eighteen. Checked her face in the mirror. A maid helped with her shirt and tie. After her smile was perfect she left her room, lightly yawning all the same. She was searching for her arm brace when she spotted something through the hallway window.

‟Who is that?"

‟Who?" the butler she asked was looking out over the yard.

There was a boy. Dressed in the Naranja school uniform. Pinballing between three bouncy colored dots who were themselves bouncing into him. Like each one was calling out to him. And he'd run over and squat down next to it. Not to herd or catch it. He'd squat down to talk(?). Like the tiny pokémon were small children. Except the kid would only get a few words in before his attention was robbed by another pokémon, and he'd run over, and the cycle'd repeat again. Maybe he was trying to herd them, and he was really bad at it.

Her brow furrowed, as she tried to understand just what she was seeing.

… Well, the kid seemed funny, if nothing else.

‟He's the neighbor's son. Moved in last—"

‟Vaya! That's him?! I've been dying to see what kind of person he'd be!"

It looked like he liked pokémon. Maybe he was even good at battling. Hey, he was going into her yard already.

Looks like she'd found something to do.

It was a Saturday, full of sun, but it was too early for him to tell. Just like how he had no idea what he would step into. Back then, he was a bit… well, he was preoccupied with Sprigatito, Fuecoco, and Quaxly. Those were the names Mr. Clavell drilled had into his head. And they were taking all his brain-space he used to use for thinking. All three were the absolute bestest pokémon he'd ever seen and held and hugged. Never had any wild pokémon been half as well-behaved or friendly as those three were. Sure, they were a bit excitable, but who wouldn't be, after being kept in a cramped ball for so long? And their expressions were just too. much. Using their little arms and trying to understand a fence or being useless against a stray leaf on their boopable noses. Could he keep all three forever? He'd be fine not even going to Naranja if he could. He was bent down to the flowerthat Sprigatito guided him too. He looked the tomcat once over and affixed the flower behind its ears. Its content purr was cut short by the Quaxly calling out from on top a pole, its back to the blue sea while it held a stylish(ly dangerous) pose for him to be amazed by. He took a se;fie with it right as he noticed the Sprigatito running between his legs and the Fuecoco waddling straight off the cliff.

Wind rushed past as he lunged for its tail. And dragged and heaved it back to the dirt path.

‟No! Bad pokémon! If you fall down there you're gonna drown! And die! So stick to the green parts, alright?!" he scrunched its nose with his index to drive the point home.

‟. . . Craw?"

Not a cloud was in the sky. Blue sea and green grass and two wide eyes staring into Haruto's. Fuecoco had not understood one syllable. Its dopey expression unchanged… Well, his dopey expression. It felt rude to call the pokémon it. He picked the 'croco up. Which was like carrying a pudgy toaster. Turned back to the busy dirt path. He wondered if he could hold all three, looking for the kitty and duckling…

…

There was no kitty and duckling.

‟Huh? Where'd the other two go? Fuecoco?" he asked his pokébud, who hadn't realized he was being spoken to.

Oh no. Oh no oh no. That was bad. What if they'd get themselves hurt? He started rushing up the hill. They seemed to have gone into that huge yard. Where the director was. He hoped Mr. Clavell wouldn't see he'd already lost the pokémon he was supposed to protect. And what if they'd get themselves hurt?

He scrambled past the metal gates and let the Fuecoco down. He spotted the duckling playing in an extremely fancy fountain. Exactly then he heard someone's footsteps and his body locked up.

‟Are you these three's trainer?"

He looked up. A lanky girl was petting the green kitty as she looked at him. They locked eyes. She had freckles, a ponytail, and grass in her hair.

‟Not quite," a more familiar voice descended the steps, ‟master Haruto has yet to make his choice, you see—"

She jogged up to him, smile plastered on her face.‟Buenas! We haven't met, have we?"

‟Nope! I just moved in, so I don't really know anyone yet."

‟I know who you are, though! You're the transfer student that just moved in! Am I right or am I right?"

‟You're right! My name's Haruto, and I did move in this week!"

‟And my name's Nemona! Normally I live in the school dorms, but home is here. Whaddya say, new neighbor? Wanna be friends?"

‟Of course!" He'd just gotten his first Paldean friend. She did seem a bit odd, but he was overthinking it. You'd think anyone was scary when they caught you barging into their yard.

A lively cough interrupted them, ‟Miss Nemona is president of our Student Council, and a champion-ranked trainer in her own right—"

He felt the girl step closer, ‟That's right! I absolutely love pokémon battling!" and he took a step back in kind. What? ‟In fact, we should battle right now—you and me!"

Another step back, she followed.

They were having such a friendly conversation. He didn't even have time to think. A chill ran up his back.

‟I… I'm not the biggest fan of—"

A calm voice cut them both off, ‟Easy, now— you two will have plenty of time to battle later. On that note, Master Haruto. Have you decided which of these pokémon will be your first partner?"

An arm raised forward, gesturing to the three. Three sets of eyes, looking up at him expectantly. His hands were left free and his fear of what was grabbing them suddenly crashed into the fear of imminent loss. He was already best of friends with all of them. He couldn't choose… He looked up at his director with puppy dog eyes.

… His saddest, bestest puppy dog eyes.

‟… No, you cannot pick more than one."

That's not fair. Was his first loved all three of them, too much to choose. Leaving his pokémon friends behind was a seriously screwed up 'gift'. Maybe choosing none would hurt them less… But he couldn't do that. That'd be running away, and that wouldn't solve anything, magically. It wasn'tfair, but he had to pick something. And quickly, the expectant gazes were becoming too much to bear. He'd have to disappoint at least two pokémon. Choosing was impossible, he just had to make any choice… But, he couldn't do it. He couldn't pick.

So instead, he just closed his eyes and listened to his heart.

His hand pointed to one. No reason. No logic. Just on instinct alone.

When he looked to check, his finger was pointing at Fuecoco. He loved all three the same, but he'd felt it that he needed to protect that dopey smile on his face. He could leave the Sprigatito and Quaxly alone, but he'd be too worried about him. He mouthed off a silent ‟I'm sorry" to the other two.

‟Would you like to go with our good Fire-type pokémon Fuecoco here?"

‟Alright."

The crocky crawed at him, happily. They were now partners. And he was a pokémon trainer? It didn't feel like it.

He popped a squat match to his eye level. Luckily he wasn't the tallest.

‟Uhh. Hello crocky," he took the pokémon's paw in his hand. They shook hands, like grown-ups. ‟I am pleased to meet you. My name is Haruto, what's yours?" Fuecoco looked intently at him, ‟… Oh, you don't have one. I need to give you one. Uh." He stopped and gave the red crocodile thing a look-over. From its cute stubby legs to its squat buck teeth. He wasn't good with names, but looking at the Fire-type, one thing sprang to mind. From the stem, to its shape, and thin red skin… face area that was just slightly beige…

‟… Your name from now on is 'Apple'." He pushed his index finger in his snout. The little poké focused on it for a few seconds, before turning around and huddling down to search for something. When he returned, he had an apple from a nearby tree in his small paws. ‟No—You. You're the Apple!" He told Apple again. At which the actual apple was again offered to him. ‟I don't want an apple! You!"

A few tries later, he gave up. Looked at the apple in his partner's paws, then up at Nemona. After an energetic nod from her, he bit into the fruit. ‟… It's good. Thanks." And his partner nodded along. ‟You want some too?" and he crawed in agreement. He held it out in one hand, and the pokémon opened its jaw to take a bite. And then swallowed it whole. Seeds and stem and everything.

‟… Good boy." He pet his warm head. Apple growled in content.

His partner may have been a bit of a glutton.

He couldn't be happier.

When he looked up he saw the girl, Nemona, looking down at him with a gentle smile. He froze up when he realized she's still there. ‟Qué? Don't mind me! You two were so adorable that I didn't want to bother you!"

‟Wait… where's director Clavell?" He looked around the yard, no sign of the garish red and white suit. Wait, that wasn't good. They were alone.

‟He went inside to talk to my parents." She put a palm over her mouth ‟I didn't tell him they're away, so we got some free time before he comes back~."

He rose up to look her in the… well, he was eye level with her collar bone standing, but he looked up at her. ‟The other pokémon? What happened to them?"

‟Well, the quaxley's probably getting passed off to the next student, buuut— I'm training the Sprigatito now! Since I never got a pokémon when I enrolled, I chose it as my freebie." As he heard her explain, he felt grass-dew fur rub against his feet. And then the feeling vanished. The poké ball she was holding sucked it up into white energy, then shut closed.

‟And before I forget, catch!" With his leftover fear and her horrible throw, he just barely managed to intercept it.

He looked in his hands, it was a poké ball. Closed. White, red, and lighter than a feather.

‟Nice catch! That's for your Fuecoco!"

‟Good to know." He looked at it for a moment more, ‟Then, I guess I'll be goin—"

‟Waaaaaaait a minute!" Before he took another step, his palm was squeezed by both her arms. ‟You think you can run off, just like that? Oh no no, there's something vital you and I haven't done yet!"

‟… Can we not?" He really didn't want to fight. Apple'd get hurt. The Sprigatito'd get hurt too. Couldn't he leave? Maybe run when she wasn't looking? His hand started sweating, and his face followed.

‟Of course we can't not battle! We both just got new pokémon, how else are we gonna test them out?" Her face got a bit too close for comfort there. Test them out?

A chill ran down his being. He tried to take a step back but his legs were frozen. He gathered his courage, ‟I-uh, really don't like battling pokémo—"

‟What are you saying? Come on, it'll be fun! Let's go!"

She didn't even let him finish. Or care about what he said. And she was grabbing and dragging him god-knows where. So they can battle pokémon.

That thing about them being friends? Cross it off.

He hated her.

Behind the house, a shallow shore. A rising sun to his right and cold sand under their feet. Stones arranged in the shape of a square fighty-thing he once saw on TV. His hand was let go and the weirdo girl mumbled off while he regained his bearings. Haruto saw Apple huddling along to catch up to them. He knelt down, scratching the pokémon's stem. He was sandwiched between the sea and her house. So he wouldn't manage much distance before she'd catch up to him. She obviously hasn't taken ‟No" for an answer… He didn't see much choice, other than:

‟Apple, I know we just met… But you're going to have to fight. For me."

The Fuecoco seemed to understand his sadness. He continued, ‟If anything bad happens to you, I'll do my best to help, alright? I promise… So I need you to bear with this."

He didn't want to do this. His chest got tight at the thoughts of what would happen. But he looked over to the freckled girl ten feet away. Still subtly smiling, true intentions oozing through. That wasn't his schoolmate, that was a bully. His eyes turned to slits.

Apple looked at him. Finally listening: ‟… And I need you to win."

He'd show her he's not worth messing with. If he wins, she'll know to leave him be. That was the reason. It wasn't because he hates her. That's why he had to win. He would win.

… And then, she'd leave him alone.

‟Orthworm, Dudunsparce, Tauros…" Gosh. She had a lot of pokémon she'd been itching to try out again. But what kind of Fuecoco was she going up against? And what kind of trainer? Just thinking about the possibilities was getting her all giddy… But no, not now. She needed to warm him up, and see if this new neighbor was even worth bothering with. She had a veeery simple test. If he couldn't pass it, he wasn't worth her time. She opened the pokébattle app on her rotom phone. Punched everything in. When she was done he was still crouched next to his Fuecoco.

‟Oye! You ready to battle, or what? I don't have all day!".

‟… I'm ready."

A bit over-dramatic, she thought.‟Alright then! It's gonna be my new Sprigatito against your Fuecoco. And don't hold anything back!" Her new pet flew out of its pokéball, stretching its front paws and showing its claws.

The battle had begun. She felt sparks gather in her extremities. The air around her was starting to heat up as she started sweating. A grin escaped her, she was trying her hardest to not look too intense. All that mattered was her, her opponent, and the two pokémon. And ten more in reserve. She felt her hair stand up. Just because she was at a big disadvantage, didn't mean she wasn't aiming to win. But a single Ember from that Fuecoco would shrink her chances of victory to none. Leafage wasn't very effective, even with stab. And Tail Whip would be a waste of tempo… She'd just have to keep tackling and hope luck was with her. Probably wasn't gonna win. But playing to lose was a stupid oxymoron.

He hadn't made a move yet. Too bad for him. Her hands flew forward ‟Sprigatito! Tackle!"

The grass-type launched like a coiled spring, flinging its entire body into its opponent.

The Fuecoco didn't recoil as much as its trainer. Who seemed to be sweating bullets already.

‟Alright Apple… Go! Attack!… Do it!"

The Fuecoco turned around. Looking up at its trainer, its face a question mark. ‟Fue?"

A knowing smirk escaped her face. Forget using apps or knowing the type match-ups, this kid was cluelessabout pokémon battling! And his pokémon had its back turned!

‟Tackle!" And her Sprigatito Jumped head-first onto the Fuecoco's exposed backside. The alligator crawed in pain as its body fell forward and its snout hit the ground.

‟A critical hit!"

Her rotom phone called out.

The little kid was frustrated, clenching his fists. A part of her felt bad, ‟Apple! Attack! Please!"

The Fuecoco actually got up and shook the dust off. It lurched over the divider and shoulder tackled her tomcat. But it was already too late. She already had the lead.

‟Tackle!" her pokémon slammed into the crocodile.

‟No! Apple, retaliate!"

‟Sprigatito! Tackle again!"

She let her arms down. Not the most thrillingof fights, she sardonically admitted. After experiencing dragons colliding inches away from your whole being, baby pokémon pillow-fighting with their own weight wasn't exactly apasionante. She was still completely focused though. She'd kept the lead. And she was this close to winning. The fire-type looked ready to eat sand. One more hit and it was curtains for little Fuecoco.

Her opponent's voice was raspy, like the words were having trouble coming out. ‟Come on, Apple! Don't give up! You can't die here!"

Turning its head, like to hear better, the bipedal crocodile slammed its feet into sand, bracing itself. It gulped down and she could see the resolve form on its face. From its closed jaw she saw sparks starting to emerge.
Wouldn't work on her. ‟Oh, don't think you can try that now!" She threw her braced arm out. ‟Sprigatito, tackle with gusto!"

Her cat growled, throwing itself fangs first toward the fire. A flaming ball as big as its face launched, ready to collide head-on with its body. It was big enough to make its fur look orange.

‟It's super effective!"

‟Sprigatito was burned!"

It didn't matter, her pokémon broke through the flames as embers scattered across its fur. It had enough oomph left to survive. And the Fuecoco only needed a light push, and it fell over sideways. It didn't move again.

She won.

And that was that. Nemona started to get the cricks out of her spine, taking in the morning sun. ‟Phew! What a battle, eh?" she said, aimed at her would-have-been partner. And he was fumbling with his poké ball. She was about to explain how to use it when a yowl rang out. Her poor Sprigatito was trying to put its burn out. ‟Oh, sorry for that 'tito. Let me find a burn heal…" But before she even zipped her sling pack open she heard a sad hiss as her kitty-cat fainted back into its ball.

‟Sprigatito fainted!"

‟Pokémon Trainer Haruto won the battle!"

…

… Huh!? Did—Wha—Hewon?! How did he win!?

She snatched the phone from midair. Battle app still running. Nemona looked at the animated fight screen with the pokémon's species and levels and hp and… ‟Apple" had 1 hp left.

She frowned. What the hell happened? Its hp had been in the red. She could see it on the ground and her phone was brand new so everything had to be working. She tapped to look at the full battle log.

…

Sprigatito used Tackle! (8/22-5/22)

Apple used Tackle! (15/25-12/25)

Sprigatito used Tackle! (5/22-2/22)

Apple used Ember! (12/25-4/25)

Sprigatito was burned!

Sprigatito used Tackle! (2/22-1/22)

Apple toughed it out to show its best side to Haruto!

Sprigatito was burned! (4/25-2/25)

Sprigatito was burned! (2/25-0/25)

Sprigatito Fainted!

Pokémon Trainer Haruto won the battle!

‟… ¿Qué?"

It toughed the hit!? How— How's that possible?! He's barely had that pokémon for 10 minutes! Pokémon she's had for years have never done that for her!

She looked back up at her opponent, and he was cradling his Fuecoco, looking at it like it was about to die. Were those tears in his eyes? Did she—

‟I-I'm so sorry Apple… I… I promise you're going to get the nicest fune—"

Then he was interrupted by Apple coughing back to life. Like a dead engine starting on a cold day. Eyes glazed over, but filled with the same fortitude as before.

‟Y-You're alive!? Apple! Apple!" the little kid cried into it.

And then they hugged in the sunrise, like some cheesy feel-good movie's cliche ending.

It took a moment for her to take in all that just happened. While her gears were turning, her body coiled itself in anticipation for her excitement. She'd just lost! And she didn't even realize it! She had fifteen—No, twenty! — different pokémon she had to throw at him! She was SO GLAD her schedule was empty.

‟Look at you! Winning your first ever pokémon battle! You've got way more potential than I thought!"

But looking at Haruto, he was still cradling his partner like a newborn, ‟… I'm just so happy he isn't—… Wait, I won?"

…

A Drifloon isn't as airheaded as this kid. She'd never in her life seen someone who knew less about pokémon battling than him. Her first impression was right.

He really was funny.

And he still beat her in a pokémon battle. She couldn't help but break into a laugh.

… Haruto

She repeated it to herself. Haruto, her neighbor. Haruto, her schoolmate. Haruto, her equal. Haruto. Her rival.

That last one sent a shiver up her spine. Just imagine how he'd fight after she'd fix him into a real trainer… Oooh… But first, she had to make sure it wasn't just a fluke. She wasn't sold just yet. And there was only one way to make sure…

They were going tobattle again. And again. And again. And again. Until she could be sure. And when she's finally sure…

They can battle some more. Just to be extra sure.

The poké ball wasn't working. He was slamming the button and Apple laid slumped on the ground. She said something. He didn't hear. The salty air blew past him.

No external damage. Something had to be broken on the inside. The fire reservoir… or the like. Maybe he'd fried his mouth from that fireball. He shook him lightly. Apple's eyes were closed. If he'd fainted he'd have gone in the ball, right?…

The penny dropped. Apple was dead. He was a killer. He'd just murdered Apple. He and that girl. And that dumb cat.

He'd messed everything up and he hadn't even arrived at Naranja, ‟I-I'm so sorry Apple… I…I promise you're going to get the nicest fune—" But, while his eyes were closed, soot and ash blasted him in the face. Red scales reflected the sunrise. His tie hooked by a bucktooth.

‟Y-You're alive!? Apple! Apple!" He didn't have time to not hug him. Tight and warm and slightly wet. Few seconds later he realized how hard he was squeezing. Some wet spots landed on Apple's snout and he noticed they were from him. He heard her speak.

‟Look at you! Winning your first ever pokémon battle! You've got way more potential than I thought!"

‟… I'm just so happy he isn't—" he had to take a double take, what'd she say? ‟… Wait, I won?"

Apple had almost died. How could he have won? And why was she so happy—

His line of thought was abruptly cut off. A laughter resounded over the beach. It sounded like a screeching viola, it was horrible. It clawed into his dwindling patience.

He didn't know if it was the customs or the language or the time or day or his pokémon or something he did or said or wore or even more. Whatever it was, she obviously found it funny enough to laugh at him when he was obviously not having any fun and his pokémon almost literally died.

He didn't even want to be there. He was literally dragged against his will. Apple could've died. His shirt was full of soot and he had a hole in his new tie. Worst of all: He'd just beat her. And she was happy. Which meant he wasn't. Actually, he felt sick. He'd just played into her twisted hand. She seemed like a nice and friendly girl, but in reality she wasn't even a bully, she was just some sort of… nutjob. Some pokémon battling weirdo, she probably even ‟gets off" on this stuff. His mom did say to watch out for Paldean girls, but he wasn't ready for this.

… Well, that was that. The calm waves washed over the battle field. Surprisingly the fight-thingy remained. Apple went into his poké ball. He stood up off the sand and dusted himself. Didn't look at whatever else, just how he'd get to school.

He remembered his resolve before he moved to Paldea. He would enroll in the ‟Venerable Naranja Academy", one of the best schools in the world. It wouldn't be easy, and he would be tested in everything related to pokémon, even tangentially. He was going to have to battle sooner or later, he knew it'd be numerous times as well. Regardless of what he had to say about it. So he had prepared himself mentally. When the time would come he would square his shoulders and keep his head high.

He would fight. He'd have to. But not her. He would not fight heragain.

Because at that moment, he swore on his days, and all his love of pokémon…

He is NEVER battling her again!