Special Chapter: Yesterday is Gone, Part 2
About an hour later, Lyn found himself sitting in the waiting room of a district hospital alongside Osmund, who'd come as fast as his legs could carry him after being summoned by a Pelipper neighbor from Lyn's street. The room was built to the left side of a lobby facing the street, where low tables and mostly-backless chairs had been set up under the dim light of glow-moss in glass spheres hung from the ceiling. There was little company to be had for the two that night, barring a Mimikyu in a corner, a Bayleef dozing off at the other end of the room, and an Indeedee receptionist at the counter who lazily picked through a stack of papers, casting glances off at a pair of double doors every so often that the on-site medics had hurried Marina through when they'd first come. All the while, Lyn sat rigid and visibly tense, as Osmund looked over at him with a wary tilt of his head.
"You've been awfully quiet, Lyn," Osmund said. "Did something happen before I got here?"
"No. Nothing's happened since mom got brought in," Lyn answered. "I… just can't really think of anything to talk about right now."
"I mean, no news is good news, isn't it?" the Grass-Type asked. "And if your mom bounced back from this once, what's a second time, huh?"
The Grovyle smiled and nudged at the Dewott's shoulder, only for the otter to continue looking listlessly at the floor, making Osmund shift uncomfortably. Normally, Lyn never seemed to fail to find some glimmer of confidence even in grave circumstances. So whatever happened with Marina had to have been worse than he'd thought for his friend to be such spirits. Osmund wondered to himself what better way there was to try and console Lyn, when he spotted him pawing at his Academy scarf, which gave the gecko a small spark of inspiration.
"Hey, just remember you're not going through this alone," Osmund offered. "You're in the settlement with the best doctors this side of Anyilla, and if you need a helping claw, 'mons in the Company look out for each other on the job."
"Osmund, we haven't even gotten a rank yet," Lyn snapped. "Who's supposed to look out for 'mons like us?"
Osmund opened his mouth to answer, only to trail off as he found himself at a loss for words. It was true, the Academy didn't provide anything to its students beyond an education and a foot in the door for a future rank, and that was assuming they didn't fail one too many courses to graduate or push their luck too far in their antics and get expelled beforehand.
The Grovyle hemmed and hawed a bit when his vision trailed out the window and he saw a white star peeking up over the rooftops to the west with the moon hanging in the middle of the sky. He blanched, realizing that the moon was roughly about where it normally was around midnight, meaning that the moving star was…
"That's the Time Lord's Traveller," Osmund murmured. "I hadn't realized it was already this late."
Lyn turned over to Osmund with a start, as the Dewott began to grow visibly cagey and his expression took on a tinge of barely-concealed alarm.
"S-So?" he stammered. "I mean, surely you've stayed up later in the past, and-"
"Lyn, my uncle gets up early to work before dawn, and I'm already not going to get much sleep by the time I make it back home," Osmund explained. "I'm the only 'mon in the house there to watch over Salvini before going to the Academy every day, and that tournament doesn't make things any easier."
"Osmund, come on…"
Lyn gave his friend a pleading look back. Osmund caught himself as the Dewott stared at him insistently, speaking up with palpable unease.
"Can't- Can't you at least stay a little longer?" the Water-Type asked. "Just this once?"
Osmund hesitated, before shaking his head back with a quiet sigh.
"I'm sorry, Lyn. If I could, I would."
Lyn's face fell, Osmund noting that his friend's eyes looked much as if he had just run the Dewott through with a Leaf Blade. Osmund remained silent, before giving a wary pat at Lyn's shoulder.
"Just hang in there, alright?" he insisted. "I'll check up on you tomorrow at the tournament."
Lyn looked up, trying to muster some reassurance from his friend's words, only to manage little more than a listless mumble back.
"Y-Yeah. See you."
Osmund waved Lyn off, before leaving the waiting room and slipping out into the night, leaving the Dewott behind in the room with none other than the Indeedee receptionist, the dozing Bayleef, and the Mimikyu for company. Lyn stayed seated for a while, occasionally glancing out the window at the stars, and thought to himself a couple times over whether or not to try and strike up a conversation with the Indeedee only to find himself at a loss of words each time.
The Dewott wished quietly to himself that anyone could be there with him at that moment. Sevan… his teacher… Gods even his father being here would be better than this! The one time he could've made the most difference, and he was gone because of that stupid "mission" from years ago that never so much as had a scrap of paper to document its existence!
Lyn shook his head, trying to divert his thoughts to something more positive. Even if he couldn't be there at this moment, Sevan was at least trying to lend a helping paw. Whenever he got word, maybe he'd be able to take a break from sellclawing… maybe he could come back home… so things could be like they used to, even if just for a little while.
"Is that Dewott still here?"
Lyn looked over at the receptionists' counter, where he saw the Indeedee talk briefly with a Gardevoir before pointing at him. The Gardevoir turned her attention towards the Dewott, and motioned with her arm to follow along.
"You should come," she said. "It's serious."
Lyn got up from his seat, walking across the waiting room after the Psychic-Type who led him past a set of doors and into a hallway lined with rooms on either end. The Dewott looked up at the Psychic-Type's stern gaze, making him squirm uneasily.
"Wh-What's going on?" he asked.
"Your mother's sick with waterblight, it's a type of poisoning that comes from exposure to water tainted by algal blooms," the Gardevoir explained. "We usually see this from Pokémon around Vollezee that spend a lot of time in water too dirty to be flushed out by the tides or the intervention of Pokémon."
"But if you know what's wrong with her, you can treat her, can't you? She already got better once, didn't she?" Lyn pressed, prompting the doctor to shake her head in response.
"She's most likely been getting exposed for some time and never gotten a chance to properly recover from it," the Gardevoir answered. "In milder cases, waterblight can be fought off naturally by the body. There are some remedies that can also help, but their success rate is far from consistent."
"S-So give her one of them then!" Lyn exclaimed. "If you already know how to help her, why are we even having this conversation?!"
The doctor fell silent for a noticeable pause, before the Gardevoir sighed and pawed at her brow.
"Because none of those remedies would work in your mother's case."
Lyn stared back puzzledly as the Gardevoir inhaled sharply, and continued on with her explanation.
"In severe cases of waterblight, Pokémon like your mother have their ability to consume food impaired and the liver and other internal organs begin to take permanent damage," the doctor said. "With how far along the disease's effects on her body have come, there's nothing we can do for her at this point."
Lyn's jaw hung open limply, before the otter screwed his face up angrily and leaned in with a sharp growl, jabbing a paw against the Gardevoir's arm.
"S-So what am I supposed to do then?!" Lyn demanded. "Just take her home and wait for her to die?!"
"No," she replied. "Because you would be wasting precious time."
Lyn fell silent and blanched at the doctor's response, who shook her head with a low sigh.
"In her present state, it's doubtful your mother will last the night," the Gardevoir said. "I called you over to let you know that if there was anything you two needed to say to each other, that you shouldn't put it off any longer."
Lyn stared ahead in blank shock, the otter moving a paw to his face with shallow, anxious breaths as the Psychic-Type gave a guarded glance back at him.
"Do you need a moment with her alone, Dewott?" the Gardevoir asked.
"Y-Yes," Lyn croaked. "Where is she?"
"Take the stairs at the end of the hall. It's the first room to the right afterwards," the doctor answered. "She should still be awake."
Lyn nodded back glumly to the Psychic-Type and followed her instructions, making his way down the hall and up a coiling set of stone steps where he reached the second floor and another similarly-furnished hallway. The Dewott stepped forward, the floorboards creaking as he approached the first room to the right, when he pushed it open and froze.
There, Marina was resting on straw bedding that had been hastily gathered and spread out in front of a window overlooking a canal outside, with no sign of movement beyond her chest weakly rising and falling. The Samurott raised her head at the sound of Lyn's approaching footsteps, and glanced over, as a tired, mournful expression came over her face.
"Lyn… I'm sorry that I couldn't keep my promise."
Lyn looked back at his mother, tears welling up in his eyes as he made his way over and buried his face in her chest. The Dewott's voice hitched as his breaths came out sharp and intermixed with loud sniffles when he felt Marina paw at his head.
"Dear… please don't cry," the Samurott insisted. "You've got a big day ahead of you tomorrow."
Lyn pulled his head up, his face still wet from his tears as he saw Marina looking down tiredly at him. The Dewott tried to brush away some tears, before setting his teeth on edge with a frustrated snap.
"H-How can you be this calm?!" Lyn exclaimed. "You're dying and you're worrying about how I'm going to do tomorrow?!"
"I've lived my life looking out for you, to make sure that you could get far enough to care for yourself," Marina insisted. "If that's what my life accomplished, I'm happy for it."
"'Care for myself'? Mom, we barely kept a roof over our heads together with Sevan's help!" the Dewott cried. "Travellers Above, h-how am I supposed to go on like this?!"
"You'll find a way, I know you will," Marina reassured. "Because you never give up."
Lyn paused and turned away from his mother when he felt her paw touch his face, the Samurott attempting to wipe away his tears away as her child looked back up at her.
"It's why you're still at the Academy, aren't you?" Marina asked. "Because you were worried for me and wanted to help by graduating into a position in the Company."
"Wh-What good does any of that do now?" Lyn muttered.
"Just keep striving and never give in," the Samurott insisted. "I know that you'll make me proud, that you'll grow into a strong 'mon like your father."
Lyn fell quiet and bit his tongue. He fought with all his might to try and accept his mother's reassurance, only for the last three words to keep poisoning it. 'Like your father'. Running out on your own family was what a 'strong 'mon' did? Why he'd rather spend the rest of his life begging for scraps on the canals than be like that! Even when she was dying, why did mom insist on clinging to that good-for-nothing like this?!
Marina abruptly dropped her paw and struggled for breath for a moment. Lyn looked back at his mother in alarm as he watched her eyes close and the Samurott feebly gasp for breath. Her chest suddenly stopped moving, before she exhaled one last time and slumped against her bedding.
Lyn's eyes widened, as he went up and tugged at his mother, only for her to give no response.
"Mom? Mom?!"
The following morning, light trickled down through the window above Lyn's bedding, as he laid on his back and the sounds of Pokémon passing in the water and the lanes nearby filtered through. All the while, Lyn stared up blankly at the ceiling, his eyes ruddy and tired, and yet unable to do anything other than look ahead. The Dewott stirred, and sluggishly slouched up onto his feet, walking past his mother's bedding as he stopped and stared at it, the straw still deformed from where Marina had last laid on it.
Lyn forced himself ahead for the doorway to the common room, shuffling in with his head hung low. There, his mother's seamitars were still where he'd left them on the table next to a few cups, when his eyes fell on his father's scope on top of the dresser in the corner. The otter grit his teeth and with an angry shout, dashed it to the floor with a swipe of one of his scalchops. The twinkling of broken glass rang out as the Dewott wedged his paws behind the dresser and threw it out into the center of the room. The dresser struck the table in the middle, knocking the items left on top of it to the floor with a loud clatter, including his mother's seamitars.
"A-Ah!"
Lyn hastily darted over and snatched the seamitars up, carefully checking each of them for chips or cracks. After a few moments looking over the blades, Lyn's paws wavered and his voice hitched, the Dewott pulling the hilts of his mother's blades into his chest as his eyes leaked tears and bitter cries came from the back of his throat.
Tak tak tak!
"Lyn? What are you doing in there?" a Grovyle's voice from the front door barked. "Open up!"
Lyn sniffled and looked up uneasily, the Dewott carefully taking his mother's seamitars over to the bedroom and laying them down on her bed beneath her secondaries. As Osmund's knocks continued to ring out, Lyn retraced his steps back into the common room, trying to wipe away the tears from his face the best the back of his paw allowed him to. He pulled the front door back, where Osmund was waiting for him on the doorstep with an agitated scowl.
"Why are you still here?!" the Grass-Type snapped. "We were supposed to meet up at the arena!"
"Mom's dead, Osmund."
Osmund blanched and let his mouth hang open in startled shock, as Lyn's face took on an increasingly bitter expression. The Grovyle tripped over his tongue, struggling to stammer out a reply.
"… W-Wha-"
"She passed not even an hour after you left me," Lyn spat. "Excuse me if I'm a bit out of it right now."
Osmund fell silent and hesitated a moment, the gecko's face easing as his earlier frustration evaporated and he averted his gaze.
"Hey… I'm sorry, I didn't realize that she was doing that badly. I understand if you're not doing well, but you really can't just stay cooped up at home right now, Lyn," he said. "The second round started an hour ago and you're running out of time to show up. If you don't show, the referee is going to disqualify you."
Osmund reached out to pat at Lyn's shoulder, only for the Dewott to sharply brush his hand aside. The otter shot back a fierce glare, which made Osmund shrink back uneasily. The Grovyle said nothing at first, before pawing at his own shoulder and giving a quiet sigh.
"I'm not trying to minimize your loss or anything, but there's just no putting this off and you know it," Osmund insisted. "You wanted to be in this tournament, and I'm sure that your mother knew that too. Do you think she'd really be happy seeing you throw away your chances like this after all the work you put in?"
Lyn fell quiet for a noticeable pause, before pinning his ears back and looking away with a low growl.
"No. She wouldn't."
Lyn shook his head and brushed past Osmund without saying a word. Osmund pawed at his shoulder as Lyn slipped out the door, the Grovyle looking around at the upended common room, as a gnawing sense that something was deeply amiss with Lyn's attitude came over him. He raised his voice to call off after Lyn, only to catch himself.
It was a mere half hour before Lyn's first match in the current round was due to start. Even if the Dewott was not in a healthy mood right now, it wouldn't do any good to make him later than he already was. Osmund shook his head and headed for the door himself, pulling it shut before ducking out into the lane after Lyn, his cries of 'Lyn, wait up!' fading from the empty room before it was drowned out by the city's din.
"Gah!"
Lyn skidded back along a rocky battlefield set out on the pitch of the Strandmeer Arena, the Dewott panting as he steadied himself and looked up at a Kricketune pulling his claw back from a Fury Cutter. The rounds had gone by in a blur ever since Lyn made it back to the tournament, the chaos in his life outside the battlefield crowded out from his mind as all he could think about right then and there was the Bug-Type at the other end of the field uneasily steadying his feet, before tauntingly motioning at him to come with his right arm.
"You'll need to do better than that, Dewott!" the Kricketune jeered. "This is the Quarter-Finals! I dealt with stiffer fights than this in the earlier rounds!"
Lyn huffed and bared his teeth in reply, flashing his scalchops before he lunged at the Kricketune and struck him in his thorax with a crossing pair of water-wreathed slashes. The Dewott felt the cricket fall back under his blows, only for a sudden wind pulling small orbs of light off his body to overtake him.
"Nrk!"
Lyn recoiled from the Absorb, digging his feet in with a venomous glare before letting water build up in his throat. The otter spat up the water as a jet at the Kricketune's head, sending him toppling to the ground. The Bug-Type flailed and tried to scrabble back upright, when he saw Lyn leaping up, bringing his right scalchop down on his face.
THWACK!
The Kricketune abruptly collapsed to the ground and stopped moving, Lyn looking over his foe with tired pants. The sound of loud cheers from the stands made him sigh, sheathe his scalchop, and head off, wholly unaware that from the box above him, he was being closely watched by a Luxray and an Alakazam. The latter shifted his gaze to the Kricketune still on the ground, before shaking his head with an unimpressed scoff.
"Hrmph, clearly some of this year's students leave much to be desired," Gerhard grumbled.
Farn paid the Alakazam no heed as she remained focused on the battlefield, a small smirk spreading over her muzzle as she peered down at the battlefield below.
"You focus too much on the negative, Gerhard," the Luxray retorted. "I personally thought that Dewott put up a strong performance."
Gerhart gave a puzzled look over at Farn as a Hattrem and Wigglytuff helped carry the Kricketune off the field, the Luxray's yellow eyes moving along after Lyn as he slipped off the field for the grated exit from the pit.
"He's clearly approaching this tournament with a lot of vigor and has been cutting right to the chase for his fights," she said. "Do you happen to know who he is?"
Gerhard looked at Farn blankly for a moment, before shaking his head back with a small shrug.
"Nee, geen idee," the Alakazam answered. "I might have seen him around in my classes a few times, but I don't exactly have time to learn the name of every student."
Meanwhile in the access corridor, Lyn took an Oran Berry that had been set out on a ledge for the event that the challenger on his end of the field emerged victorious, and made his way back to the arena's hallways. There, Lyn stopped and began to apply the Oran Berry, when he heard sharp footsteps and looked up to see Osmund staring him down with an agitated glare.
"Lyn, what on earth was that?!" he demanded.
"What on earth was what?" Lyn asked.
"That finisher back there! Why would you hit your opponent in the head when he might not have even been able to get up and keep fighting?!" the Grovyle cried. "And this isn't the first time you've pulled something like that today either!"
Lyn shot back a pointed frown and got up, brushing past the Grovyle. Osmund looked after him with a harsh scowl, when Lyn turned his head back with an unimpressed scoff.
"Osmund, this is a competition," the Dewott harrumphed. "You can do things however you want in your battles, but I'm going to do whatever I need to to win."
Lyn carried on for the matchup board, which had been freshly updated during his battle to reflect the next round's matches. Osmund gave an incredulous glare after the Dewott, grumbling to himself as to what could've made him take such a vicious turn, when his mind turned back to Marina. Ever since he came to the arena today, Lyn had left nothing on the table with his fights, as if he weren't fighting for a shot at an award, but to settle a score after being personally wronged.
"What's gotten into you, Lyn?"
The Grovyle hesitated, half-suspecting that he already knew the answer to his question, but hoping that his friend could still come back to his senses.
The semifinals of the tournament came and went, both Lyn and Osmund emerging victorious in their matches for a final battle between them, the fateful match being set on a battlefield mimicking a wooded forest. While a few days prior, the occasion would've been met with mutual joking and banter between the pair, that day as the two faced each other down, a palpable tension hung in the air. From Lyn's end, the Dewott's face remained locked up in a hardened scowl, while his Grovyle opponent eyed him warily in light of his conduct earlier in the tournament. Still, despite his misgivings, the two of them were friends, and Osmund attempted to take some of the edge off their meeting by forcing a smile over his face and attempting to strike up friendly smalltalk.
"I don't think either of us could've asked for a better way to end this tournament, huh?" he asked. "It'll be just another fight between us."
"Hrmph. Maybe for you," Lyn scoffed. "But I'm fighting to win here."
Osmund fell silent and gave a worried tilt of his head reply, the Grovyle extending a hand as he gave a reassuring wave back.
"Hey, lighten up a bit, will ya? It doesn't do you any good to be this tense."
Lyn dismissed the gesture with a small harrumph and drew his scalchops. Osmund blinked in surprise, as he heard the Castform referee starting to count down to the start of the match. The Grovyle eased into a fighting stance, the leaves on his arms folding against each other into a bladed arrangement as the Castform finished her count.
"Go!"
The Castform's Weather Ball sailed up into the air, as Osmund tore along the battlefield with his blades drawn. The Dewott attempted to run to the side, making his Grovyle opponent adjust course to chase him down. As he neared, Osmund swung his arm in an uppercutting slash, only for Lyn to suddenly catch his blow with a Razor Shell from his right scalchop. The Dewott attempted to follow suit with another blow from his left blade, making Osmund jump back and give a teasing smirk.
"Heh, not bad," the gecko remarked. "But you should be a bit less predictable!"
Osmund pulled his claws in and whipped up a greenish vortex of wind that peeled orbs of light off Lyn's body. The Dewott recoiled, before steadying himself with gritted teeth and throwing an elbow forward that connected with Osmund's snout.
"Grah!"
Osmund reeled and stumbled back from Lyn's blow, as the Dewott flashed his scalchops and attempted to follow up his Revenge with a hail of slashes. The otter bore down on the gecko, when at the last moment, Osmund jumped up and clambered onto a branch of an overhead tree, before bringing his arms in to use another Mega Drain.
Lyn recoiled from the draining attack with a sharp yelp and wobbled from his abrupt loss of vitality. Out of reflex, the Dewott spat a jet of water up at Osmund's branch, only for the Grovyle to casually leap to another branch and call back to his opponent.
"You didn't think I was going to make this easy, did you?" he chided.
Lyn blanched as Osmund taunted him from the next tree over, his thoughts immediately turning to all the trouble Osmund had given him from the scaffolding on the night they'd snuck into the arena together. Why, as long as Osmund stayed out of reach like this, just what could he do to beat him?
The Dewott looked around when he noticed that one of the trees that had been set out for the battlefield was noticeably thinner, enough so that a casual Cut ought to be able to hack it down. Lyn looked back up at Osmund as he readied another Mega Drain, and spat out another jet of water, forcing him to retreat to another branch, this one closer to the thin tree. With one eye on the target tree in the background and his paws tightly on his scalchops, Lyn repeated his sprays of water, driving Osmund from one tree to the next until at last the Grovyle leapt into the boughs of the thin tree, which made Lyn's eyes light up and rush forward.
"Got you!"
With a swift slash of his scalchop, Lyn hacked the tree down, sending it crashing to earth with Osmund still in its branches. The Grovyle hit the ground and tumbled along the grassy pitch, hurriedly getting up to attempt to scamper back to safety when a scalchop struck the side of his head.
"Ack!"
Osmund toppled over in a stunned daze as he heard Lyn run for him, the Grovyle hastily rolling out of the way just as Lyn attempted to bring an overhead slash down on him. The Grass-Type threw himself back onto his feet and threw a bladed arm out, striking Lyn in his chest and making him stagger. The otter's left paw slackened for a moment, when he hastily tightened his grip on the scalchop and reflexively swiped forward just as Osmund started to pull his blade back.
Thwip!
Lyn felt his blade zip forward before running along a rough surface and saw a trio of green leaves fall to the ground, paying them no heed as a roar went up from the stands. The otter fell back and reflexively braced himself for Osmund's next blow, when he saw the Grovyle's eyes abruptly shoot wide and the Grass-Type recoiling and grabbing at his right arm much as if he'd been set aflame.
"AAAAGH!"
Lyn hesitated as Osmund howled in pain, the Dewott looking down to see the leaves from Osmund's right arm laying on the ground with small droplets of blood beside them. The Water-Type froze, turning back to his friend as Osmund's face contorted into a venomous glare. The Grovyle pulled his claw back from his stricken arm to reveal that the leaves on it had been cut to nubs and he was now sporting a bloodied blotch just past them.
"So you'd throw a low blow like that even against your own friend?!" Osmund shouted. "Fine, let's see how you like it!"
The Grovyle lunged forward in a rage, bringing the leaves on his uninjured arm together into a blade that he ran square into the Dewott's stomach. Lyn gagged and staggered from the blow, the world around him going fuzzy as Osmund started to fall back. Fighting against the searing pain in his stomach, the Dewott grit his teeth, thrusting the back of his right scalchop forward and striking Osmund between his eyes before the gecko could slip his grasp.
"Gack!"
Osmund flopped back and hit the ground, coming to a hard stop on his back. Lyn stood over his opponent, clutching at his wounded stomach, his eyes still wide and his breaths coming out as tired, rattled pants as he half-expected Osmund to spring up at him in a slashing fury at any moment.
"Hah… Hah…"
As Lyn panted, a loud roar pricked his ears, making him look off past the treetops towards the stands. There, the Dewott saw a sea of Pokémon in the lower rung standing up, cheering and hollering their approval of the match. The Water-Type stood there blankly for a moment as things slowly sunk in for him. He'd won. In spite of everything that had happened to him since the tournament started, he'd actually won!
A low groan pricked his ears as the medics helped carry Osmund off the field. Lyn looked after his friend uneasily for a moment, before shaking his head, and limping off for the exit on his end of the battlefield, a relieved smile spreading over his muzzle.
"And the winner of this year's Academy Tournament is Lyn the Dewott!"
Roughly 30 minutes had passed since the end of the tournament, and a voice rang out from the arena's badge system that stirred the crowd up into a cheering frenzy. The field had been cleared as the sky began to flush orange with the hues of late evening. In the pit, the speaker's podium from the first day had been reassembled, and Lyn's wounds from battle were hastily treated and his fur groomed to make him more presentable as he mounted the stage from the right. There, waiting for him at the other end was Professor Gerhard, who frowned skeptically and stepped a few paces forward. The Alakazam paused about halfway to the center of the stage, the professor's eyes suddenly glowing blue as he held his right hand out to telekinetically float the trophy out to the center. Lyn frowned a bit at the Psychic-Type choosing to flaunt himself even here, before dismissing the Alakazam's behavior and going up to the floating cup, reaching his paws out to take it when a sharp growl reached his ears from the rear of the podium.
"Not so fast!"
Lyn jumped back as a black and blue blur suddenly rushed in and snatched the trophy out of the air. Lyn stumbled and fell back onto his rump, the otter looking up to see Farn latching onto the trophy with her mouth before setting it down at her feet. At the other end of the stage, Professor Gerhard looked on in slack-jawed astonishment, before calling out to the Luxray Administrator.
"Administrator Farn, what are you doing?!" Gerhard exclaimed. "The tournament is over!"
"Not if I have anything to say about it," the Luxray chided. "This tournament ended much faster than I expected, so, I would like to see a bit more from that Dewott before handing it over."
Lyn flinched and pinned his ears to his head at the sight of Farn's piercing eyes boring into him. The Dewott's gaze fell on the trophy sitting between her paws, when his thoughts turned back to his mother's dying reassurance that he'd make her proud, and everything that he'd endured to make it to the stage. Still shivering, he summoned all the courage he could muster and balled his paws up into fists before raising his voice in an indignant, if still-stammering protest.
"H-How is that justified?! I fought my way to the finals and won the last match!" Lyn cried. "That's by definition the end of the tournament!"
"Yes, it's the end of that part of it," Farn huffed back. "Now you must fight me."
Lyn visibly blanched and felt the color drain out from his face, the Water-Type looking up at the Administrator with a quiet gulp.
"Fight… you?"
"Did I stutter?" the Luxray asked. "I want you to prove yourself, Dewott. To show me that you have what it really takes to become a Second-Rank so quickly."
Farn stepped forward, the Administrator lowering her head down towards Lyn's with a taunting smile.
"So are you going to do it, or turn around and slink off?"
Lyn hesitated for a moment, before his eyes narrowed and his ears popped back up. With a still-wavering voice, the Dewott grabbed his scalchops off his waist and drew them at his ready.
"I-I'm not just walking away from the victory I fought for!" he protested. "I'll take your challenge!"
Farn's eyes remained fixed sternly at the Dewott, letting her tail bob back and forth as a small smirk crept over her face.
"Glad to hear it," she said. "Then let's move this along, there's a battlefield waiting for us."
Lyn and Farn walked off to the opposite ends of the battlefield in front of the podium and stared each other down. The Castform referee looked over the two, hesitating a moment, before she launched into her countdown. As the last seconds of quiet ticked off, Lyn inhaled sharply, seeing that there was nothing between him and Farn but his skills, his wits, and the battlefield between them.
"Go!"
Lyn sprang forward and darted along the battlefield, running at Farn in a zigzagging pattern in anticipation of a crackling bolt of electricity being thrown his way at any moment. As he closed in, Lyn tightened his grip on his shells while water began to wreath them. The Dewott threw his right paw forward, swinging his blade at Farn's head, when the Luxray abruptly jumped back and swung her tail at him. At once, Lyn saw the lioness' tail had taken on a metallic sheen, the otter going wide-eyed before the Iron Tail struck him in his face and knocked him back tumbling off his feet.
As Lyn rolled to a stop, he coughed and spat up dust as he steadied himself , the Dewott looking back at the Luxray Administrator to see her sporting an unimpressed scowl.
"Hmph, you didn't think that after becoming a Second-Rank you'd only fight others that were as seasoned as you, did you?" Farn scoffed. "As a Second-Rank, you'll wind up in situations where you'll be outmatched, and you'll need to do better than that to handle them."
Lyn got up and hastily re-entered a guarded stance. With how strong of a blow she'd dealt with a mere Iron Tail, trying to fight Farn at close quarters was sheer folly. In that case, perhaps he was better off attempting to keep his distance, prompting him to build up water in his throat and disgorge it at the Administrator in a pressurized jet.
The Water Gun sailed on as Farn ran ahead, striking her shoulder but much to Lyn's alarm, doing little beyond slowing her paces briefly. Lyn attempted to duck out of the way as the Luxray lunged at him, only to feel a stabbing pain shoot through his left arm. Lyn screamed in pain, looking over to see Farn's jaws wrapped about his arm and reflexively slashed at her face. His scalchop glanced off the Electric-Type's brow, making her lose her grip as Lyn ran back and cradled his stricken arm with a pained whine. The Dewott shook some feeling back into his bitten arm and struggled to keep his composure when he glanced back to see Farn pawing at a ruddy streak right above her eye, before shaking her head and letting out a sharp harrumph.
"How are you planning on handling situations like these out in the field, Dewott?" she questioned. "Pirates and Imperial lackeys certainly aren't going to go out of their way to give you a 'fair' fight."
Lyn grimaced as he saw sparks begin to dance on Farn's fur, the Luxray's face curling into a visible sneer.
"Like me, they're going to fight to win. By any means necessary."
Farn shot out a wide spread of blue electrical bolts, making Lyn hastily jump back and roll as the bolts passed overhead. The Dewott scrambled backwards, seeing an errant bolt still coming for him that he hastily blocked by raising his scalchops in an overlapping shield. The otter braced himself as the hail of sparks subsided, leaving him panting raggedly as he looked back up at the Company Administrator and saw what for once appeared to be a genuine smile.
"That's more like it," she said. "Though I wonder how you'll fare once I stop holding back?"
Lyn's eyes shot wide at the Luxray's question. After everything he'd been through, all this time Administrator Farn had been merely toying with him?!
"Wait, wha-?!"
Any doubts Lyn had about Farn's claim were quickly dashed when she barreled into him with a spark-wreathed tackle. The Dewott flew back, hitting the ground with a dull thud where he lay there panting for a moment. Lyn cracked open his eyes and saw errant static arc on his pelt, staring up into the sky with muddy and spotty vision.
His mind turned back to the trophy on the podium, and of everything that he'd endured just to lift his paws out to grab at it. Was… Was it really all for nothing?
No. It couldn't be. He wouldn't let it!
Lyn groped with his right paw at one of his scalchops on the battlefield's earth, tightening his grasp as he rolled over and struggled onto his feet. For a fleeting moment, he managed to stumble mostly upright, when his strength abruptly gave out and he flopped back down onto the ground on his belly.
The Dewott laid there breathing tiredly, as in spite of all of his determination, in spite of everything he'd done to try and pursue his mother's dying wish, his efforts proved to be for naught. And now, there would be no prize to the tournament, he'd gone through the matches, been chewed up, and even angered his best friend with nothing to show to his name for it all. Lyn's voice hitched and tears began to well up in the corners of his eyes, when he saw an Oran Berry get pushed in front of his face, and looked up to see Farn staring down at him.
"Get up, Champion. You've earned your title."
Lyn stared up at the Luxray before hesitantly taking the Oran Berry and biting down on it. As he wiped the tears from his eyes and began to feel the berry's healing effects revitalize him, he heard cries go up from the stands, looking to see the entire audience standing and cheering on the scene. The Dewott turned to Farn with a confused glance and a twitch of his whiskers as she gave a knowing smile back.
"What's with that look? I just said you had to fight me," the Luxray said. "I wasn't daft enough to expect you to win."
Farn turned and began to leave as Lyn watched her stride off, the Luxray looking over her shoulder to call back to him.
"You have a bright future ahead of yourself, Dewott. I'm sure we'll be seeing more of each other soon enough."
Farn left the battlefield through the exit tunnel at the other end, the raucous cheers reverberating through the arena. For a moment, Lyn looked on blankly, as a tired smile spread over his muzzle and he soaked in his hard-earned adulation.
Just after sunset, Lyn exited the arena's medbay back out into its corridors, making his way with his trophy in tow for the circular passageway that ran its outer rim. The Dewott winced slightly and set his prize down, looking down at a bandaged arm from where Farn had bitten him earlier. The medics had assured him that it would heal up within a day or two, not that that didn't mean he couldn't feel the wounds now, and pawed at it for a moment when he heard footsteps and a sharp huff from behind.
"Hey."
Lyn paused and turned around, seeing Osmund's yellow eyes boring into him with a fierce scowl. The Grovyle pawed at the cut leaves on his right arm, as he spoke up with a bitter huff.
"So you won the tournament like you wanted," the Grass-Type spat. "I hope you're happy with yourself."
Lyn narrowed his eyes in reply, the Dewott subconsciously digging his feet into the ground to brace himself before speaking up.
"… Is there a reason why I'm not supposed to be?" he scoffed, prompting Osmund to angrily flash his teeth back.
"Oh I dunno, because you won by cutting my leaves?! What on earth would make you think that was a good idea?!" the Grovyle cried. "How about we have a rematch where I start things off by smashing your scalchops to get an edge?! Let's see how good of a mood you're in when you lose from a low blow like that!"
Lyn folded his ears against his head and tensed his body, as he sharply frowned back with an exasperated grumble.
"Osmund, I didn't try to cut your leaves," the Dewott insisted. "My aim was off and my slash didn't go where I wanted it to."
"Yeah right. You've been throwing low blows all day during the tournament," Osmund growled. "I'm sure that the one you threw against me was the one time that it was really just an accident!"
"Yeah, well I'm sure you were really busy last night and just happened to leave me right as my mom was dying," Lyn snapped, glaring back at the Grovyle. "If that was really an accident, then so was this!"
Osmund reflexively shifted back, his expression wavering for a moment before he uneasily brushed at his uninjured arm.
"Lyn, be reasonable. I didn't know that your mom was gonna die, but I did know that my little sister would have been all alone if I had stayed with you," Osmund insisted. "And I still came over to the hospital in the middle of the night right before the day when most of the tournament's rounds were happening. Doesn't that count for anything? Not every friend would have done something like that!"
Lyn's expression hardened as he shot back a sharp glare back.
"So you're not sorry at all about what happened," he growled. "Then why should I feel sorry over some leaves that will just grow back in a week or two anyways?"
Osmund stiffened up and his eyes lit up with livid indignation. The Grovyle's leaves on his uninjured arm began to close in on each other into a blade, only for him to sharply inhale and pause, the leaves unfurling as he shook his head and glared back bitterly.
"Goodbye, Lyn," he hissed. "Good luck with making Second-Rank, I hope it was worth it."
Osmund turned and stomped off, as Lyn looked after him with a sharp scowl. As the Grovyle drifted away, Lyn's expression began to waver and grow uneasy. He'd never seen Osmund this angry before, and even with how upset he'd gotten with him following his mother's death, until now, he'd never really worried whether or not he was also losing Osmund as a friend. Lyn reflexively followed after the Grovyle, stopping to snatch up his trophy once he realized he'd started off without it, when he heard footsteps approaching behind him.
"Ah, you must be Lyn."
Lyn flicked his ears and turned around, where he spotted a Lombre in a First-Rank scarf waiting behind him.
"Administrator Farn wishes to speak with you," she said, prompting Lyn to blink and tilt his head back puzzledly.
"About what?"
"She was quite pleased with your performance during the tournament and would like to spend some time talking with you about what your future may hold," the Lombre messenger explained. "Will you be coming?"
Lyn looked back down at the trophy in his paws and thought back to his mother's last words… "Just keep striving and never give in. I know that you'll make me proud…" He'd- He'd done that today, and the trophy in his paws was proof of it. Surely after a day or two to calm down, Osmund would come around, wouldn't he? After all, 'mons said things off-the-cuff to each other all the time, and it wasn't as if the damage to his leaves was permanent.
Really, if Osmund would let their friendship get sunk over a temporary wound, just how good of a friend could he be? And Osmund would understand him responding to a summons from an Administrator, wouldn't he? With him now on his own aside from whatever Sevan could scrape together from sellclawing, he needed to look out for himself for a while. And the best way to do that was to not let the Second-Rank position he'd fought so hard for slip through his paws. With his mind made up, the Dewott smiled back and nodded to the Lombre, eager to take her up on her offer.
"Of course," the Dewott answered. "Where is she?"
"She's waiting at her box in the stands," the messenger replied. "Follow after me."
Lyn followed after the Lombre, setting off down the hallway with an excited smile towards a new life, one that would surely be happier than the one he was about to leave behind.
Author's Notes:
- Nee, geen idee - Dutch: "No, (I have) no idea"