Josh, Ryan, Ash, and the other finalists were blinded by a flurry of camera flashes as they stood on the victors' podium together. After the darkness of the caves, the wall of reporters and photographers all clamoring to get pictures was an assault on the Trainers' eyeballs. Thankfully, a League official came forward after a few seconds and reminded the press that there would be plenty of time for pictures and interviews later, and shepherded the Trainers off the podium and into the Indigo Plateau Complex.

It was a giant building; part shopping mall, part history museum, part hotel. The main entrance was flanked by statues of two samurai facing each other, each had a stone hand over their sword, and the other holding a Poke Ball. Once inside, they passed stores that sold Poke Balls, battle items, vitamins, and memorabilia from previous tournaments. There were framed group photos from every year, stretching all the way back to 1953. Ryan and Josh immediately sought out one year in particular.

"Here it is," Ryan declared as he found the right picture. "1973. There's Gramps."

It was a faded picture featuring eight Trainers, standing in two rows on a raised platform — the exact same framing as the picture they had just posed for a few minutes ago. Since Ash, Josh, and Ryan were all the youngest and shortest Trainers there, they had been placed in the front row. Looking at the 1973 photo, Josh immediately recognized Blaine, who was wearing his iconic dark sunglasses — although he still had his hair, as well. And next to Blaine was Professor Oak, sporting a big grin that reminded Josh of Ryan. Next to the Professor was another Trainer Josh didn't recognize.

"Who's that next to the Professor?" Josh wondered aloud.

"That's Agatha," Ash said.

So she already had the limp, back then, Ash thought to herself, as she saw the cane Agatha was leaning on in the picture.

"That's Agatha?" Ryan gaped. "But she's so h— I mean… wow, her hair was long."

"Smooth," Ash said.

A slideshow was playing on TV screens that anchored the sides of each store, showing a picture of each competitor for the current tournament. Josh and Ryan each felt a thrill when they watched their own pictures appear. Ash's face reddened when she saw her own photo — the frizzy hair in her picture made her look like she had just gotten out of bed.

While the stores had all the battle items a Trainer could ever want, there were no stores that sold shoes. And so, Josh continued to walk barefoot as he followed the League official guiding them to the hotel — the second hotel room Josh had ever stayed in that week, or his entire life, for that matter. He was able to grab a pair of bedroom slippers once he finally made it to his own room.

The new hotel room was even fancier than the last one. Josh flipped on the giant flatscreen TV to a news report declaring the end of the Victory Road, and footage of himself emerging from the cave just moments ago. The bathroom was all marble, with a huge tub and a walk-in shower. The bed had sheets made of the softest fabric he'd ever touched.

The windows had no curtains, but a remote next to them allowed Josh to darken the glass. As he fiddled with the remote, he conjured up images of a lush, green forest; a pleasant beach; and a perfectly still lake. Finally, Josh returned the window to normal. Only then did he see the various side buildings that were adjacent to the main Complex — the buildings that held the battlefields. Josh recognized them by their shape. They were vaguely rectangular, tall, with sloped roofs and no windows — reinforced walls, just like a Pokemon Gym. They were covered in a thick layer of snow.

Josh heard his phone buzzing inside of his bag behind him. He had several messages. One from Caitlyn, asking if he had made it through Victory Road. One from Ryan, asking if he had turned on the TV yet. One from Sayuki, asking if that was really him on TV. And one from his mother, asking what happened to his shoes.

Josh smiled as he picked up his phone and started to respond to each message, kicking off his slippers and jumping onto the bed as he did so.

Meanwhile, Ryan Oak carefully slipped into the bathtub and started to scrub himself with his good hand, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his arm, and all the while wishing he could just use the shower instead.

At the same time, Ash Delaney was dropping a complimentary bath bomb she had found in the bathroom into the tub. She watched it dissolve in the water, filling the air with the smell of cotton candy, and then she got in, letting out a soft sigh as she felt the tension in her body melt away.

#

Josh was staring at the tablet screen with several tabs open, trying to absorb all the information he could about his first opponent, when there was a knock at his door. Josh went to answer it, although he already knew who it was because he recognized the exact pattern of the knock at the door. It was the same tap-taptaptap he had grown up his entire life.

"Hey, Mom," he said as he let her in.

Mrs. Dale immediately looked down and sighed in annoyance.

"Get on the bed, let's see those feet," she said.

Josh did, and then he gingerly slipped off the hotel slippers he had been wearing. They were stained with dried blood.

"Mom, it's fine, really," he said as Mrs. Dale bent down and inspected the soles of his feet. "They don't even hurt."

"They're not clean, you'll get an infection," Mrs. Dale said. "Get in the shower."

Josh recognized the tone in his mother's voice, it was a tone he had come to call 'Nurse Mode' in his head. When his mother was in Nurse Mode, there was no point arguing. Josh walked to the shower, awkwardly balancing on the balls of his feet to try and avoid the more sensitive areas of his feet, all the while feeling his mother's eyes on his back.

Okay, I lied, Josh admitted to himself, they still hurt like crazy.

Josh hopped into the bathtub and rolled up his pant legs while his mother ran the faucet and took out an ointment. She thoroughly scrubbed Josh's feet — ignoring his winces of pain — and then applied the ointment. Josh balanced on the edge of the bathtub, keeping his feet off the floor while the ointment sank into his skin. Mrs. Dale washed her hands in the sink again. Only then did she take a look around the marble bathroom and shake her head.

"This is the nicest bathroom I've ever seen," she muttered, "and you both get to stay here for free."

"Don't you and Dad get to stay here too?"

"Yes," Mrs. Dale said as she finished washing her hands. She dried them on the towel, her fingers lingered on it as she felt the material. "I always knew you could make plenty of money being a Trainer, but this is just…"

Mrs. Dale pursed her lips and looked away.

"Do you think if I get too much of this, I'll turn into a spoiled brat, like Ryan?" Josh said.

Mrs. Dale looked at her son with widened eyes.

"I never said —"

"It's okay, I thought the same thing for a while," Josh said. "I remember the first time I visited his house."

Ryan Oak's house wasn't just bigger than Josh's, it was full to the brim with things Josh only ever saw on TV. Instead of a little box TV with a Gamecube, Ryan had two giant flatscreen TVs with a Playstation, Gamecube, and an Xbox. The one with the Xbox was in his room, no less. Avery had a laptop and a car, and those were given to her before she even got into Pokemed school. Josh's parents had never said anything about it out loud, but Josh could feel the judgment whenever he mentioned something that Ryan or Avery had just gotten.

Of course, some of it had bothered Josh, too. He'd be lying if he said he had never been jealous. But Ryan had never lorded it over Josh the way some other kids in Pallet Town had with their stuff. Ryan was happy to share all his stuff. Most of all, Ryan had wanted to get a Pokemon of his own. And he had wanted Josh to get one, too.

"I never said Ryan was spoiled," Mrs. Dale repeated.

"Well, not 'spoiled' but… you know what I mean," Josh said. "His attitude?"

"… Maybe," Mrs. Dale finally admitted. "I also don't love how you ruined your feet."

Josh shrugged. "They'll heal. I've had worse from baseball. You know that."

"And your shoes?"

"Really? Shoes?" Josh said with a laugh. "Is that all you've got now? You still don't want me to be a Trainer after all this?"

"Josh, Ryan was put in the hospital," Mrs. Dale said. "You can't ignore that."

"No," Josh said. "But Ryan is also here, even after that happened. You can't ignore that, either. I'm sure a lot of other kids would have quit after that, but not him. And I wouldn't have, either. That's why we're here."

Again, Mrs. Dale shook her head at her son. But then she smiled.

"This might have been the strangest day of my life," she said. "I keep seeing you and your brother on TV. They're selling shirts with your face on them in the stores downstairs. We keep getting calls from people who want to interview us."

"Wait, is it just, like, my face?" Josh asked. "Who would want a shirt of just a person's face?"

"Depends on the girl, I suppose," Mrs. Dale muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing," Mrs. Dale said. She walked to the tub and inspected Josh's feet again. She nodded.

"I'm going to meet your father downstairs and see if we can find you some new shoes and socks," she said.

"I have plenty of socks," Josh said.

"Fine, just shoes then," Mrs. Dale said. She brought a hand to Josh's face to lift his chin and look her son in the eyes. "I may not always love what you do, but know this: I'm so, so proud of you."

Josh stared at her. He couldn't think of what to say.

"… Thanks, Mom," he finally said.

#

Ryan was lounging on the bed, watching himself emerge from Victory Road on the TV when there was a knock at his door.

"It's open," he called out.

The door opened, and Avery walked in carrying a plastic bag. Ryan hardly glanced at her before turning his attention back to the TV.

"Where are Mom and Dad?" he said.

"Downstairs, still trying to give you the silent treatment."

Avery sat at the edge of the bed.

"So why are you here, then?" Ryan asked without looking at her.

"When was the last time you changed that bandage?" she said.

"It's fine."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, no new bandages, no pain meds — you're a real tough guy," Avery said as she moved closer and reached for the bandage on his face. Ryan flinched away from her.

"Don't —"

"Shut up and sit still," Avery said, "not like you can stop me, anyway."

Ryan groaned as he finally gave in and stopped moving. Avery unwrapped the bandage around his head and carefully peeled off the cloth covering the cut on his cheek. Ryan grimaced as the smell the bandages had sealed in wafted from his face, but Avery didn't as she brought her face close and inspected the cut.

"Well, it's healing all right," she said, "but it'll definitely leave a scar. You should've let the plastic surgeon do it."

"I honestly couldn't care less," Ryan said.

"Sure," Avery said. She pulled out a clean set of bandages from the plastic bag and got to work. For a moment, Ryan sat in silence as he pretended to watch the TV. Then, he spoke.

"You gave blood for my surgery?" he asked.

"Yeah," Avery said.

"And you're changing my bandages."

"I knew you weren't going to."

Instead of wrapping the bandage around Ryan's entire head, Avery brought out a pair of shears from the bag and cut the bandage to size — just enough to cover the cut — and used small strips of tape which she also cut down to size to apply the new bandage. She carefully taped it down like she was hanging a framed picture.

"That's better," Ryan said. "Thanks."

"Sure," Avery said. "I'll be back to do this again tomorrow."

"Okay."

"One last thing," Avery said. She pulled out a thick rubber band and handed Ryan the now-empty plastic bag. "For when you shower."

"They have a tub, I was just gonna use that."

Avery huffed. "Fine."

She moved to put them away, but Ryan reached over and took them from her with his good hand.

Again, they sat in silence. Finally, Ryan turned off the TV.

"Where's Gramps?" he asked.

Avery looked down.

"Not with us," she said. "Mom and Dad still won't let him near you."

"He always gets a VIP seat," Ryan said.

Sam Oak had competed at the Indigo Plateau more than once. All former competitors got invited to the Conference.

"I thought he didn't even go to these," Avery said.

"He doesn't," Ryan said. "But he could, this year."

Avery looked back up at her brother.

"What are you saying?" she asked.

"I want him here," Ryan said. He stared at Avery with a surprising amount of conviction. It was the kind of look Avery had never seen in her brother before. "If Mom and Dad won't let him talk to me, fine. But I want him here."

#

"You've sure made yourself at home," Mr. Delaney said as his daughter greeted him at the door of his hotel room.

She was wearing a bathrobe and slippers, hair still wet from her bath. She also smelled like cotton candy.

"It's so comfy," she said with a big smile, "I'm totally stealing this."

Ash jumped into her father's arms and he pulled her into a tight hug. When they finished, Ash led her father by the hand to the window and showed him the view.

"Where's Mom?" she asked.

"Downstairs, deciding what to buy," Mr. Delaney said. "My wallet's going to take a beating, so, if you could win this thing, that'd really help."

Ash grinned at him. "I'll see what I can do."

Mr. Delaney looked out the window. Most of the snow was still covering the buildings, which made the entire Plateau vaguely resemble a giant, white castle.

"This reminds me of our first year in Pallet Town," Mr. Delaney said, "remember that tree at your school covered in all that snow?"

Ash tilted her head in confusion. She had no idea what he was talking about.

"Your first year at that school," Mr. Delaney continued. "And they had that massive tree on the playground. One day, I got a call in the middle of work. Your poor teacher was at her wit's end — she couldn't get you to come back down."

Ash pursed her lips and looked down. Now, she remembered.

"Your mother was in bed with a migraine, so I had to leave work and drive all the way over," Mr. Delaney said with a smile. "They sent you to the counselor. And she came to me, saying it was your idea of rebellion, separation anxiety from the move, all kinds of things."

That part, Ash had never heard. She stared at her father, but he kept smiling at her as he shook his head.

"I knew the truth," he said. "You just wanted to climb trees."

"We didn't have any at my old school," Ash said.

Again, Mr. Delaney shook his head.

"You were fearless, from the moment you were born. Always looking for trouble," he said. "Whether it was tree-climbing or you making friends with a wild Clefairy, you always found a way. You've grown so much, Ashley. Sometimes, it scares me."

"Dad, I'm not going anywhere," Ash said. "You don't have to worry about me."

"I know that," Mr. Delaney said. He took his daughter's hands in his own. "But can you do me a favor?"

"Anything."

"After this tournament, let your old man worry about you a little longer, deal?"

Ash looked up at her father and squeezed his hands in her own.

"Deal."