[ episode one ]

Three.

A hum swarms the stadium as the audience buzzes, delighted.

Two.

Spirits soar as the racers pull down their goggles and collect their bearings. The crowd waits with bated breath.

One.

Rhyhorn stamp and snort, a cloud of dust settling between them. One more second and their future changes forever.

GO! The creatures stampede past the starting line, jostling their riders and shoving their opponents, snorting through wide nostrils. The crowd erupted in a wave of cheers. Whoops and hollers swelled and soared overheard and all around, enveloping and overwhelming Clair.

She stood on the bleachers next to her cousin, rooting for her favorite Rhyder. Grace Gabena, Champion of four Rhyhorn Racing titles, appeared almost overnight from retirement: her son made it to the finals, and Grace was going to show him how a real Rhyder raced. And raced she did. Grace made it to the front of the pack without nary a scratch; her Rhyhorn, Rhyrhy—so named from Grace's son as a child—strongarmed his way past the competitors and stormed the next corner.

"WOO! GO GET 'EM, CALEB!" Lance rooted—wrongly—for Caleb Gabena, the Rhyder of the toffee-colored Rhyhorn. An up-and-comer and son of Grace, Caleb was wildly popular for his dazzling smile and innocuous wit. Lance often claimed they were a lot alike, and that if he wasn't Champion, maybe he'd give racing a go.

"Oh, come on, Lance," Clair muttered, shooting him a sideways glance, "it's not going to happen. Look, everyone knows Coffee's had a rough season. Rhyrhy on the other hand—"

On the racetrack, the Rhyhorn took another lap. Racers were vying for position, and Grace had dropped to third place. Caleb, in deep purple, had taken first. Lance turned to face her, incredulous. "Rhyrhy's rusty; he's been gone too long out of the game. Sure, he might beat Octavius, but—"

"No way!" Clair exclaimed. "The amount of effort she's put in negates all that. Experience beats raw talent any day."

Lance grinned his goofy grin. Clair wanted to smack that dumb smile off his dumb face. "Are you sure you're talking about Rhyhorn racing and not about us?"

Clair elbowed her cousin in the ribs, making him stumble. He laughed and laced an arm over her shoulders, pulling her into a hug and holding her tight. Clair's cheeks flushed. She hadn't been talking about their years-long rivalry. Sure, she was slightly envious of the positive attention he received from their grandfather and other members of their clan, and maybe she didn't have all the accolades that he did. And, yeah, she wasn't a natural like he was. Her point still stood: experience beat raw talent every time.

Just not when it involved her.

The rest of the race proved just as exciting: each Rhyhorn rammed and roared, slamming their horns against their opponents' rough hides. Defense was the best offense, with those who could take more hits proving victorious. Grace's Rhyhorn was older and more experienced than the others, able to penetrate his opponent's weak spots. He was significantly slower than Coffee, Caleb's Rhyhorn, who easily out-maneuvered the others. Octavius fell short of them both, falling into third while Grace and Caleb vied for first.

As the race reached its close, the crowd surged forth. Everyone wanted to be there when Grace-Caleb-Octavius reached the finish line. Clair grabbed Lance's hand and together they forced their way to the front. The ground rumbled beneath them as the Rhyhorn drew near. This was the final lap. The cousins made it to the metal dividers separating the track from the audience just as Grace and Caleb were neck and neck. His Rhyhorn used its horn to bash against Grace's—a desperate move, if you asked Clair—but Rhyrhy endured it. Both beasts were panting hard, their jowls sopping with drool, but still they ran.

Fireworks erupted into the sky as the first Rhyhorn rocketed the finish line, an earthquake of pure muscle, the others hot on its hooves. Fanfare blasted from the speakers, announcing the race's finale. Horn for horn, it was hard to tell who won. Around them, the audience hummed with murmurs and speculation. Clair's hands tightened around the divider. It had to be Grace. She glared as Lance, who'd been whooping since the race's finish, before turning sharp eyes back to the riders. Grace and Caleb shared a familial hug and congratulated the others.

All had their eyes on the giant screen, which now showed the slow-motion video of the Rhyhorn crossing the finish line. Around them, announcers were speculating the judge's decision. Minutes seemed like hours before the winner was announced.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, PLEASE PUT YOUR HANDS TOGETHER FOR THIS YEAR'S PRIME CUP WINNER! GRACE, YOU'VE DONE IT AGAIN!"

Everything was chaos. The audience, who'd been holding back their excitement, let their emotions free. Shouting and hollering and some disappointed boo's could be heard for miles. This was the race of the year—the race of the last five years! And Grace had won! Clair shouted gleeful victories and Lance clapped her on the back. She launched at him in a massive hug. "I told you!" she repeated, laughing. "I told you!"

Lance laughed and held her tight. "Okay, okay, you win! I'll never underestimate your powers of perception again!" He let go and grabbed her hand. "Let's get out of here before we're crushed. We might not find our way out!"

Clair followed her cousin through the throng of people. She laughed and pushed her way past, reveling in the day's events. Things had been looking up ever since they'd arrived in Kalos. While she loved her time in Johto, there was something exhilarating about traveling far away from everything she knew. That, and being able to get away from her grandfather's disapproving looks. She'd sorely needed a vacation. Though her relationship with her cousin was strained, Clair couldn't think of anyone else she'd rather spend time with. Maybe they'd come back with a horde of dragons and terrorize the Elders like they used to as children. Maybe she'd be recognized for the master tamer she believed herself to be.

Leaving the crowded stadium took longer than expected. People stopped and crowded around the gift shops and stalls, buying merch and gossiping about the race, impeding their progress. More than once Clair shoulder-checked someone for stopping abruptly, leaving Lance to apologize and her to scowl. Once outside, Lance led them down the road, further into Détourner Way, and to a delicious-smelling cart pulled by a pair of docile Ponyta.

Delicious aroma of pastries and smoked meats wafted over them. The shopkeeper smiled and waved at the pair as they came up. "Bonjour! It is lovely to see you. What can I get for you?"

"Clair, you've never lived until you've tried soupe à l'oignon," Lance said, ordering one for each of them. He picked up something called a flamiche and paid the man. Clair scoffed when she saw his wallet was fat with Kalosian currency. Her cousin was always prepared, wasn't he? And what was that accent? Speaking like he was a natural?

But if the smells were anything to go by, this was to be the best meal of the best vacation of her life. So Clair smiled, and waited, and held conversation with the shopkeeper until their food was ready. Lance insisted he carry their meals—his treat!—and Clair followed him to a nearby bench underneath a large willow tree. Lance spread the food in front of them, his eyes sparkling, and grinned broadly at her.

"I'm so glad you could come," he said, handing her a flamiche and the bowl of soup. "I know how hard it is for you to get away. The Elders didn't give you a hard time, did they?"

Clair stared at him. They did, actually, give her a hard time. Some BS about her not being ready, or capable, or whatever excuse they meant to get her to stay. Who would watch the Gym, they asked? How dare she walk away from her responsibilities? "The Elders did what they've always done," she said, each word carefully measured. She sniffed the flamiche and took a bite. Delicious! "But I managed. I am surprised Grandfather didn't make much of a fuss, though."

Lance frowned. "I told them that I'd handle it." He took a bite of his own food and relished it before speaking again. "Aah, that hits the spot! Well, Clair, I'm sorry they gave you a hard time. I hope being here more than makes up for it." He beamed. Lance always was the cheery, happy-go-lucky type. The everything-always-went-right-for-him type. Clair could never dream of being so fortunate.

They ate their late lunch in pleasant silence. Clair enjoyed the Kalosian cuisine much more than she'd thought: the breading was light and fluffy, and not overdone in grease. It was different than the delicate food she ate back home, but it was enjoyable nonetheless. She looked at her cousin and her heart soared. This really was a good day. It was late in the afternoon, but she didn't want this day to end. Would tomorrow be just as good? Would they fight again, as they always seemed to fight? Clair didn't want that to happen. Not this time.

"I'm… thank you, Lance," she stammered, her cheeks flushing. "For bringing me here. This vacation. Being back home can be…" She thought of all the times she'd disappointed her family. All the times she'd shamed her ancestors. "…difficult. I'm glad to be here with you."

Her cousin leapt out of his seat and picked her up for a hug, surprising Clair, and shook her from side to side. He released her, sat by her side, and leaned against her. Clair put her head on his shoulder. "I'd do anything for you, Clair, you know that." His voice was soft. "I know how they can be. I managed to convince Grandfather, but he was stubborn, as always. I don't know why he's so hard on you."

Yeah, me neither, Clair thought bitterly. While Lance was always the golden child, she was just her. The spare. Nothing special about her, not like Lance, whose talent was apparent from a young age. Nothing about her warranted being allowed special privileges. She had a responsibility to the clan, and that was it. She was nothing more than what they demanded her to be. Despite doing well at the Pokémon World Tournament a few years ago, Clair would never be Lance. Despite all her efforts, that fact would never change.

"How long is your conference expected to last?" she asked, changing the subject. "There are a few places I would like to see. Does your itinerary cover spending quality time with your favorite cousin?" Clair poked him in the ribs.

Lance laughed. "You got me! I actually don't know what the timeframe is. Each of us is supposed to give a talk, and then there's the Q&A section after… there's a lot of us. Did I tell you all the members from each League are supposed to be there? Diantha supposedly put this all together, but I hear it was from Cynthia who really put this all in motion."

"Uh-huh. Too bad it isn't another Tournament," Clair mused. A light breeze brushed past them, making the willow tree under which they sat dance. The bows sang with the wind, their leaves a pleasant melody. Across the park, Trainers with their Pokémon partners walked aimlessly under the setting sun. She remembered the PWT and how she'd creamed some of the other Leaders, including a few of the Elites. "It would be nice to fight the others again. Would love to wipe their smirks off their dumb faces," she finished, grinning.

Lance hummed. A non-answer. He glanced down at her, smiled, and looked away. "We'll see," he said, grinning wider. "There's a lot to discuss."

Great. He was hiding something. Clair sat up and gave him a hard stare. "And you're not going to say what."

"Nope! You'll just have to wait. Besides, I'm not supposed to be talking about it." He turned to face her, flashed her a dazzling smile, and continued. "We're not even supposed to have phones. But," Lance fished into his pocket and produced a phone in a peculiar-looking white-and-gold case, "I got you this. It's the latest model and came in the this fun Arceus case! It isn't as fancy as my Rotom phone, but it does the trick." He turned the phone on and pointed to an app on the screen. "Look, it even comes with a Pokédex app! And we can message each other through Facetime. Now you can get rid of that old Pokégear."

Clair had never been very good with technology. She blinked once. Twice. A new phone? Apps? Pokédex? Facetime? She tried—and failed—to not gape at her cousin as he gushed about all the details of her new Arc phone, Lysandre Labs, and the different specs he'd looked at before settling on this particular model. She pulled out her own device—an older model, sure, but just as good—and tried to overlook the scratches on the plastic, or the crack in the screen. Failed. "I don't need a new phone," she asserted, showing Lance her Pokégear. "My Pokégear works just fine. I can make calls, and play the radio—"

"—poorly," Lance finished for her. He grabbed the device from her hand and swapped it with the white Arc phone. "You won't have coverage here with this old thing. C'mon, Clair, when was the last time you actually used your Pokégear without complaining?"

She pursed her lips. Lance laughed at her, and her cheeks flushed. "Okay, whatever! What makes you think I'll use this one?" she asked, holding up the fancy new phone.

"I'm hoping all the time," Lance admitted, looking embarrassed. "I got you this phone so we can keep in touch, seeing as I'll be in the conference." He caught Clair's eye and continued, "You can text me and I'll message as soon as I can. We can Facetime, too! It's this app that lets us speak face-to-face directly from our phones. Isn't it neat?"

Clair fiddled with the buttons on the device. Shiny, new, and a whole lot more than she bargained for. She pressed another button, but instead of turning the phone off, the device instead opened the camera. A zoomed-in image of her chin appeared. Clair scrambled to get that ugly image off the screen, repeatedly tapping more buttons. "I guess I'll have to get used to this," she mumbled, reluctantly putting the phone into her pocket.

Her cousin laughed again, and she couldn't help but smile. His joy was contagious. He leaned forward conspiratorially. "I have one more surprise for you," he grinned. "I didn't expect to give it to you today, but, well… I'm in a giving mood. I know you'll love it."

Clair cocked her head. Another surprise? "Lance, you've done enough. I don't need anything more. Being here is enou—mph!"

Lance shooshed her by covering her face with his hands, his grin widening. He then removed his hands and motioned for her to follow him. Clair cleaned up their mess in the nearby trash can and accompanied her cousin down the road, into a secluded grassy patch. He waved to a few Trainers who recognized him—even without his cape, Lance was a celebrity—and gestured for Clair to go before him. She gave him a questioning look, but he merely grinned. A few moments later, far away from prying eyes, Lance stopped her.

"Okay… now face that way, and only turn around when I tell you to."

"Lance," Clair warned. "What are you doing?"

"Never mind me. Turn around!"

Clair turned. The sky was a burning orange, just barely kissing the purples of the skyline. It'd be dark soon. And Lance had her standing with her back to him. She felt like an idiot. What nonsense could he have in store for her? The Arc phone or whatever was one thing—she supposed she could figure out how it worked—but Lance hiding stuff from her was something else. He used to do this when they were children, too. But she was more trusting then.

There's a rustle in the grass behind her, and for a moment Clair thinks her cousin had gone and left her. But she hears his footsteps, and she relaxed. Maybe he's going to show her a wicked new dragon he'd captured. Like a Hydreigon. Clair smiled. Man, the things she's accomplished if she had a Hydreigon of her own. But Lance always had the greatest findings, so for him to have captured one so soon after coming to Kalos was an easy feat indeed. "Okay, enough, I'm turning around now."

Clair turned to face her cousin, hopes high, but there was nothing there. Lance looked at her expectantly. She stared back. And then something small clawed at her legs, and she looked down to find a pale-yellow fox Pokémon with large ears and a bushy tail begging to be picked up. It danced on its hind legs, gazing at her with red eyes, yipping cutely. When Clair didn't, it sat back on its haunches, trembling. "Lance, what it this?" she asked, giving it a once-over. The Pokémon ran in overjoyed circles at her voice.

If Lance cared about her unamused tone, he didn't show it. Instead, he kneeled down beside the Pokémon and stroked it. "This is Fennekin," he explained, rubbing underneath the fox's chin. "I've a new professor friend here, and I asked him if he had any Pokémon that would suit you." Lance laughed. "Seems like this silly little girl is perfect for your fiery personality, Clair!"

Silly was the least of what Fennekin was. While she enjoyed being stroked, she seemed to love Clair. She kept running over, hopping on her hind legs, yipping and pleading with large eyes to please, please be picked up. Clair sidestepped the fox, but Fennekin was hot on her heels. Eventually Clair picked up Fennekin—much to her delight—and held her at arm's length. The tiny fox went limp, and, eyes half-closed, fell into a peaceful sleep. Spirits, it was cute. But cute didn't explain why Lance was giving her some random Pokémon out of the blue.

"And just who is this professor friend of yours?" Clair gave him a suspicious look. "This thing—this Fennekin—seems too tame to have been meant for me. Your friend is mistaken."

It was Lance's turn to be embarrassed. "That's, well, I was hoping you'd see him in person," he said, giving a self-conscious smile. "You know, when you thank him. His laboratory is supposed to be in Lumiose… I don't think that's far from here."

Clair had a lot to say, but this silenced her. More than silenced, really, stunned. Lance wanted her to waltz into who-knows-where and thank whoever for a Pokémon that she was literally just gifted. And why? For what? Fennekin yawned and snuggled deeper into her hands. Her brows furrowed. There had to be some sort of catch. And then it hit her. Spirits, she was so dumb.

Coming all the way out here, to Kalos? Having a great time and then gifting her a Pokémon obviously meant for a junior Trainer? Going off to a conference and leaving her alone for an undetermined amount of time? It had her Grandfather's work all over it. "Damn it, Lance, I thought you said Grandfather let me go," Clair mumbled, frowning. She walked to her cousin and thrust the Pokémon into his arms. "What's he punishing me for this time? Or is this just because? Screw it. I'm done. I'm not dealing with this tonight." With that said, she turned on her heels and headed out of the bush.

It was Lance's turn to be shocked. "Wait Clair! It's not what you think. Grandfather has nothing to do with this," he said, hurrying to catch up with her. Clair pressed on, lips held tight in a grimace. Lance jogged to keep up. "Kalos would be the last place he'd interfere. I thought this'd be the perfect time for you to explore, while I'm at the conference."

"Why would I come to another country just to explore?" Clair hissed. She stopped walking and whirled to face him. She thrust a finger into Lance's chest. "I can do that at home, in my mountains. You led me to believe we'd do this together. Now your conference is, what, going to last a few weeks?" When he looked shamefaced, Clair slapped a hand over her face. "Oh, spirits, I can't believe this. I can't believe you."

"I know you're angry, and I'm sorry I wasn't upfront, I just figured—"

"Just figured what? That'd I see this Pokémon, fall in love, and everything would be just fine?"

"Well… yeah."

Clair shared a long, uncomfortable look with her cousin. So that's how it was. She pursed her lips. Frowned. Tried to find other words to continue arguing, but fell short. Lance did what he always did, which was do something nice for her even though she didn't deserve it. It wasn't even as if she hated the Fennekin. His professor friend had been right, the small fox had been immediately taken with her as soon as it saw her. And she'd just stomped all over his kindness. Something like shame flared in her cheeks and Clair looked away. She crossed her arms over her chest. It wasn't too late to jump in a hole, or hop on a plane back home. She'd rather face her Grandfather than have Lance upset with her.

Lance walked over to her, Fennekin cradled in his arms. His voice was soft. "I'm sorry. I knew I would be gone for a while, and thought Fennekin here would be a perfect partner as you traveled. If you traveled." He let out a strained chuckle. "If you took on the Gyms here, you could show them the power of the Johtonese leaders."

There was a long pause.

Clair couldn't take the silence anymore. "Don't be. I'm, uh, I should be. Sorry, that is," Clair said. She refused to meet his eyes. Maybe it'd be better if Grandfather was behind this; then she'd be justified for acting shitty. She looked into the distance: lights of houses twinkled into existence as the sunlight faded away. Crowds of people and their Pokémon were heading home from a good day at the park. They should be, too, but she'd messed it up. Again.

Her cousin gave her a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, but nodded. He moved to hand Fennekin back to Clair and relaxed when she took her from him. And when he motioned for them to begin the long walk back to Santalune City, she followed him. "Do you remember when we were kids?" he asked after a brief silence. "Back then I thought things were so much easier. I ran off with my Dragonair and went on my own adventure. I thought I had it all." Lance glanced at her, then looked up at the stars. They were just barely visible under the hazy sky. "I'd been hoping that maybe this was your chance for adventure, too."

She remembered. She remembered him leaving, just as she remembered the tantrums that happened afterwards. He left and she remained, and it was she who took the brunt of the Elder's 'teachings.' She wasn't much younger than him, but her Dratini hadn't evolved, even though they'd had the same training, the same beatings, the same everything. But he was the golden child. And their grandfather never let them forget it.

But this wasn't the same as back then—he'd had his partner with him, and she was getting… Fennekin. Knowing Lance, he'd make sure she didn't have her trusty Dragonite, the same one he'd left as a Dratini all those years ago, while she went on this journey. On the other hand… who knows? Maybe he had a point. She could take on the Gyms and defeat them as easily as she did the Trainers who challenged her Gym.

"You could be right," Clair started slowly. She glanced at the Fennekin in her arms, who slept soundly against her chest. She never could resist her cousin when he'd made a valid argument. How hard could it be? She'd raised dragons from hatchlings. A little fox should be no different. "I'll have to think about it."

They walked in silence until they reached the outskirts of the city. Featuring stone walls with interwoven brick pathways, Santalune was a quaint little town whose populace was as cheerful as its buildings. Gardens and storefronts alike were decorated in colorful flowers, creating a friendly atmosphere for residents and tourists. Clair liked Santalune for its meandering, no-worries way of life. As the cousins passed the center of town, they stopped in front of the giant Roselia fountain that dominated the square. Water trickled down it in rivulets, the pool lapping softly at the fountain's rim. Various coins lay at the bottom, wishes from a recent past.

"In the morning I'll be heading off to the League," Lance said, not looking at her. He watched their reflections in the calm waters. Clair wondered what he saw when he looked at himself. When he looked at her. "We're beginning preparations for the conference, and I'd like to be there to set up." He glanced at Clair, thought better of it, then steeled himself to fully face her. "Today wasn't supposed to turn out like this. You weren't supposed to get angry. But I forgot…" he trailed off. Then he sighed. Lance dismissed her questioning look with a wave. "Don't worry about it." Changing the subject, he said, "I had fun today. That's what matters."

Puzzling. Clair didn't often see her cousin at a loss for words. Didn't often see him struggle with emotions. He'd left things unsaid and she was certain his uneasiness was about her. How could it not? But instead of continuing on an agitated conversation, he'd given her an out. Clair decided she'd take it.

Just as she decided she'd take Fennekin. "So, you're leaving tomorrow?" she started, her words halting, uncomfortable. She was severely lacking when it came to conversations. "What a busy life you lead. Does this mean I won't see you in Lumiose?"

"Lumiose? I think I can manage that," he said, a smile tugging at his lips. There was a knowing look in his eyes. "Give me a few days to set up and I'm yours."