The camera in my grip raises without thought and clicks from the camera shutter fill the air. Hammerlocke City - a historic yet technological powerhouse. It's famous for its imposing castle-like architecture mixed with modern design. It has quite a unique aesthetic that isn't common where I'm from. Having been dubbed a must-see for travellers and trainers alike, I thought this place would be perfect for our next issue of 'Trainer's Digest'. I'm yet to find anything here that's a "must-see" worth a cover story though.

A sigh escapes from my lips as more clicks fire off from my camera. My hometown and Hammerlocke are like day and night. In Heahea City, the air is filled with the scent of the ocean breeze, and the pace of life is relaxed, with nature seamlessly integrated into the cityscape. But here in Hammerlocke, it's a different story entirely. The streets are crowded: the buildings tower high above and leave little room for the people themselves below. Being transferred from the Alolan branch to the newly established Galarian branch wasn't ideal, especially since there were hardly any members. Nonetheless, the silver lining was finally receiving the long-awaited promotion I had been striving for.

"Lei.." a disgruntled voice erupts from beside me. Malu - our sole senior writer - was struggling to hold on to both our luggage. His brows furrow as he attempts to juggle the multitude of bags in his arms. The rest of the crew slowly dawdled behind each other with weary expressions.

"I know you want to get this over with, but can we at least get to the hotel first." He groans. "The City will still be here to take pictures of later."

I look up from my camera with a sheepish smile, I guess I did get a little carried away but I can't help but snap a couple more photos. The quicker I finish compiling these next few articles, the sooner I can treat the start of this transfer as a 'paid vacation'.

"Just a few more.." I insist.

To begin with, It's my first time travelling in the Galar region. As a team, we're used to moving around to cover all types of stories but this was completely different. Everything, from the climate to the food and even the Pokémon themselves, was unlike Alola. Though the cold temperatures weren't my ideal it was still quite amazing.

As per company policy, we were entrusted with choosing our living arrangements for the job transfer move. We came to the agreement to settle close to the head office in due to the convenience. I figured it'd be a nice place to stay since the architectural design was a photographer's wet dream. But neither the office nor our lodgings were prepared since we came a day earlier so I made sure to book an inn - the one we were currently en route to.

Malu, the rest of the team and I come to a halt outside the inn, our eyes drawn to the building that blends in seamlessly with the surrounding castle walls. I slip my camera back into its bag and raise my arms to take back my share of luggage from Malu. His demeanour shifts to relief once I reclaim my baggage and we quickly ushered into the inn.

"We've got everything sorted now so feel free to go

do whatever," Malu said as he walked away from the receptionist. "Are you going to start working already?"

I nodded as I nestled my laptop under my arm. As the new managing editor, it's my responsibility to take the initiative in researching the area for the team. The blind can't lead the blind after all and I'd like to make a good impression on the new staff.

"Just remember to send the document to the editorial team later." He reminds me. And with that, he walked off into the inn's lift.

I settled into one of the plush lobby chairs and began checking my documents. Before my team's transfer, I had done a little investigation into the region. They spanned from breakdowns on Galarian myths and the standards of Galarian culture. Nothing especially eye-catching but useful for our trip when conversing with locals.

"...can't believe it!"

My ears perked up. Intrigued, I discreetly edged closer, pretending to adjust my laptop bag as I strained to listen. A few meters away from me, two women, seemingly in their early to mid-twenties were deep in conversation. By the look of their attire... it would seem that they were a pair of office workers.

"I saw him myself, right by the ticket booth," one of the women whispered excitedly, her eyes widening with disbelief.

The other woman gasped in response, her hand flying to her mouth in astonishment. "No way! Are you sure it was him?"

"I'm positive! That aura and that dark uniform... It had to be him." the first woman insisted, her voice filled with conviction.

Oho? A smirk forms on my lips as I realize I'm gaining ground. The mention of uniforms jogs my memory—I did notice many young trainers sporting white sports attire. It would seem that in this region, Gym challengers wear white sports gear while Gym leaders themselves wear varying colours. Given that this city houses a Pokemon Gym, it's highly probable that the Hammerlocke gym leader is the one they're talking about. A lightbulb goes off in my head - he's the cover story I've been looking for!

Determination fueled my every step as I quickly paced out of the Inn. The train station isn't too far from here, he could be anywhere by now. Navigating through the bustling streets, I couldn't help but catch fragments of conversation revolving around the elusive gym leader. Some voices buzzed with excitement and reverence, praising his prowess and charm. Others murmured in cautious tones, casting doubt or scepticism on his recent performance. Intrigued, I observed the diverse reactions, sensing a blend of admiration, curiosity, and uncertainty swirling around this Pokémon Master. It was evident that he had left a lasting impression on the people of Galar.

As I manoeuvred through the crowd I realised I had arrived outside of the stadium. My gaze settled on a tall, slender figure with a dark complexion accompanied by a tall winged Pokemon. He stood surrounded by a throng of admirers, his charismatic grin lighting up as he posed for selfies with eager young fans. It became indisputably obvious that the man before me was none other than Raihan, the Dragon-type gym leader of Hammerlocke - Renowned for his Strategic prowess in battles and his ability to connect with his fans.

At that moment, realization washed over me like a wave crashing against the shore – I had found the perfect model. Based on the youthful faces in the crowd, it appears that Raihan's fanbase aligns well with our magazine's demographic. Raihan's social media influence and popularity would be a perfect fit too. It would double in capturing the attention of a younger audience and providing fresh insights into Pokémon battling in the Galar region. He could be our golden goose! If only I could get through this crowd...

My fingers quivered as I raised my camera, aiming to capture the gym leader in all his glory. A candid shot always adds a trace of authenticity. Just a subtle touch to enhance the article's appeal. With a quick press of the shutter button, I captured the moment. I lowered the camera to review the shot and my eyes softened in satisfaction at the image displayed on the screen. The composition was perfect, capturing Raihan's aura of charisma and charm. A faint smile graced my lips as I admired my handiwork. Raising my gaze, I was met with Raihan's direct stare, a smirk teasing the corners of his mouth. Heat flooded my cheeks as I realized I'd been caught in the act.

Raihan strides over to me, a playful glint in his eyes.

"Impressive," he remarks, bending towards my camera. His long stature requires him to bow slightly to reach my height. I'm kind of tall for a woman, 5'8, and yet my head only reaches his shoulders.

"Thank you," I respond, putting my camera away. "You make for a great subject."

Raihan chuckles, his grin widening. "Well, when you've got a talent like mine, it's hard not to," he quips, his tone light and teasing.

I couldn't help but crack up at his comment, deciding to go along with the playful banter.

"Ah, well, what can I say? Your charm is hard to resist," I replied with a smile.

"To think such a cute lady was managing one of my fan sites, it warms my heart."

Fansite? Ah, that explained it. Among his admirers, it was easy to mistake my enthusiasm for that of a dedicated fan - especially when I had been so eager to take photos of him.

As my initial excitement begins to fade, I gather my thoughts to rectify the misunderstanding. Awkwardly, I clear my throat before setting the record straight.

"Actually, I'm not affiliated with any fansite," I confess. "

Raihan's smile falters momentarily as he processes my words, but he quickly recovers, offering an apologetic grin.

"My mistake," he admits, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "I guess I jumped to conclusions."

Sensing an opportunity, I take the time to introduce myself. "I'm Lei Kekoa, the managing editor of 'Trainer's Digest' Magazine's Galar branch."

I retrieve a business card from my breast pocket and hold it out to him, offering it as a means of contact. Our company's phone lines aren't operational yet because the office hasn't been fully furnished so I suggested he should contact me through our website.

"About that..."

His gaze shifts toward the still bustling crowd before us. Throughout our conversation, they had been snapping pictures and chanting his name fervently.

Raihan takes hold of my hand, the sudden touch sending a tingling sensation down my spine. He fishes around for a pen in his pocket and hovers it over my palm. I feel the smooth glide of the pen tracing out a series of numbers rather than letters. My curiosity piqued, I glance down and see an 11-digit sequence forming under the pen's tip. It's his number.

"I'm not up for the back-and-forth; it drags on."

Before I could raise a suggestion, Raihan headed back into the stadium. he grins mischievously and playfully mimics holding a phone to his ear, silently mouthing the words 'Just call me.'

I knocked on the door adjacent to mine in the hallway, the sound echoing softly in the corridor. Within moments, I heard footsteps approaching and watched as a shadow emerged from under the door. The door swung open, revealing Malu on the other side.

"Hey, you're back," he greeted me casually. "Next time, don't leave your laptop in the lo-"

"I think I might have stumbled upon something big," I began, excitement bubbling in my voice. I proceeded to fill him in on the conversation between the two office workers I had overheard earlier, completely ignoring his previous statement.

Malu returns to lounging in his makeshift office space within his room, his expression one of mild indifference as he types onto his laptop. I recount my encounter with Raihan to him, detailing how he shared his phone number and hinted at potential collaboration opportunities.

He listens attentively, his usual apathy momentarily replaced by a flicker of interest. "Hmm, sounds promising," he remarks, nodding in agreement. "This could be a big break for our branch."

Despite his acknowledgement of the situation, I can sense that Malu isn't exactly enthusiastic about the prospect. I can't blame him – after all, he's never been one to embrace work with open arms. Even with the transfer, he agreed merely out of obligation.

"Come on, Malu," I urged, a hint of frustration creeping into my voice. "Think of the possibilities!"

With our team being so small at the moment, I felt an absolute need to have Malu cover Raihan's story. Though usually apathetic, his ability to convey emotion with his writing and his keen eye for detail made him the ideal contender.

"...Once the office is set up I'll let you continue the 'Bulbasaur bites' column." I negotiated.

At the mention of his favourite column, Malu abruptly stops typing away on his laptop. He leans back into his seat and turns to face me.

"Alright," he conceded, a faint smile playing on his lips. "You've got yourself a deal. I'll help you handle the Raihan story, but I want full creative control over the 'Bulbasaur Bites' column."

I embraced him tightly. "Thank you so much, Malu," I say, pulling back from the hug with a warm smile. "I appreciate it."

"Once the interview is confirmed, I'd like this feature to become our cover story," I explain while taking back my laptop from him. "Please draft an email to inform the rest of the writers."

I returned to my room and sat myself in front of the phone. I punched in a digit on the answering machine, Checking the hand he wrote on each time. My focus is set on the handset phone, my fingers hovering over the screen as I prepare to make the call.

"Hello?" Raihan's voice sounds warm and inviting through the phone.

"Hi Raihan, This is Lei - From the magazine company. ," I nervously respond, attempting to maintain my professionalism. "I'd like to meet next weekend if that's alright?"