Chapter 30: Unspoken Wounds
The tension in the arena was palpable as Dawn and Eric stepped onto the stage. The crowd murmured with anticipation, the spotlight casting long shadows across the polished floor.
Dawn's face was set, her lips pressed into a tight line as she kept her gaze focused ahead, refusing to meet Eric's eyes.
Eric, on the other hand, was brimming with confidence, his usual sneer stretched across his face. He sauntered up beside her, barely able to contain his mocking tone.
"So, Platinum," he said, his voice dripping with disdain, "still think you've got what it takes? Or are you just going to squeak by like you did before?"
Dawn said nothing, her silence unnerving. She didn't need to waste energy on words; she'd let her actions speak for her.
Eric took her quiet as weakness, his smirk widening. "Well, if you're so sure your little Shellos is tough, why don't you use him? C'mon, show everyone what he can do. Or are you too scared?"
Without a word, Dawn pulled her Poké Ball from her belt and released it in one swift motion. "Shellos, I choose you!" she called out, her voice clear and firm.
Shellos materialized on the stage, his tiny form looking almost out of place in the enormous arena. But Dawn knew better than anyone how strong he was, and that's all that mattered.
Without a word, Dawn's hand drifted toward her bag, her fingers brushing the cool metal surface of the Poké Ball inside. Slowly, she drew the Poké Ball from the bag, her grip tightening around it as she raised it in front of her.
The light faded, revealing Shellos on the stage, his small form standing firm against the grandeur of the arena. But Dawn knew better than anyone how strong he was, and that's all that mattered.
The crowd leaned forward in their seats, eager to see what would happen next.
Eric, not missing a beat, plucked his own Poké Ball from his jacket. "Okay. Let's show them how it's really done!" He tossed it with a flourish, and as it burst open, a cascade of sparkles and gleaming light erupted from the ball, showering the stage in a dazzling display. Xatu emerged from the brilliance, wings spread wide as the sparkles faded. The Psychic-type Pokémon hovered in the air, its sharp eyes immediately locking onto Shellos.
The audience let out a collective gasp at the sight, impressed by the showmanship.
From the judges' table, one of the panelists leaned forward, tapping a pen thoughtfully against her clipboard. "Impressive entry," she muttered to the others. "This Leviathan kid certainly knows how to make an impact."
The lead judge, Amelia nodded slightly. "Yes, but showmanship only gets you so far. It's execution that matters."
Stephanie Schofield, perched off to the side with her camera, never stopped recording. Her lenses zoomed in on Dawn's face, capturing every flicker of emotion, every bead of determination in her eyes. Internally, she mused, we're about to find out if she really is the same girl who stopped Team Galactic. Or if this is all just a flash in the pan.
In the audience, Fantina watched with her arms crossed, her expression unreadable as her gaze flicked towards Dawn. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. Lét's see if zé wretched child 'as becomé any strongair...
Amelia, the lead judge, stood up, her voice echoing throughout the stadium as she raised her microphone to address the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, this will be the first match of the Battle Round! As many of you know, this isn't just about strength or knocking out your opponent's Pokémon. In Pokémon Contests, style, creativity, and control will decide who comes out on top."
She gestured to the large screen behind her, where the faces of Dawn and Eric appeared, flanked by the bright, colorful graphics of the contest scoreboard. Each contestant had a full bar of points beside their name
"In this round," Amelia continued, "each coordinator starts with a full bar of points. Throughout the battle, you'll see points deducted based on their Pokémon's grace, control, and how effectively they handle the battle. Likewise, creative, skillful, or unexpected moves will keep their scores high." Her tone grew more animated as the audience leaned in, eager for the match to begin. "Remember, this is not just a fight—it's a performance!"
The camera panned back to Eric and Dawn standing at opposite sides of the stage. The tension in the air was palpable, the weight of expectation bearing down on them. A large timer flashed onto the screen: 5:00 minutes.
"The battle will last for five minutes," Amelia continued. "When the time runs out, the coordinator with the most points remaining will be declared the winner—unless, of course, one of the Pokémon is knocked out beforehand. Now, without further ado—"
The crowd's anticipation mounted as the scoreboard flickered to life, illuminating the arena in bright colors. The numbers next to each coordinator's name sparkled—Dawn and Eric, neck and neck, for now.
"Let the match begin!"
The buzzer sounded, and all eyes turned to the stage.
As soon as the buzzer went off, Eric wasted no time. "Xatu, Air Slash!" he commanded with a smirk, thrusting his arm forward.
Xatu's eyes glinted as it took to the air, its wings flaring out dramatically. Bright, crescent-shaped blades of air formed in front of it, shimmering with precision before they were sent slicing through the air toward Shellos.
As the sharp gusts spiraled toward her, the crowd gasped, captivated by the grace of Xatu's controlled strike. A few of the audience members murmured in approval at the impressive display.
Dawn remained cool, eyes focused. Without missing a beat, she pointed at Shellos. "Water Gun, Shellos!"
Shellos responded with a burst of water, shooting it with pinpoint accuracy straight at the incoming Air Slash. The water collided with the air blades, deflecting them in a small, elegant explosion of mist. The audience let out an "Ooh!" as the gentle mist sparkled in the stage lights, creating a picturesque moment.
The scoreboard flashed, and Eric's points took a slight dip. He scowled.
"Impressive," Eric muttered sarcastically, but his eyes were sharp, already planning his next move. "Xatu, Aerial Ace!"
Xatu streaked through the air with breathtaking speed, its form a mere shadow as it cut through the arena, honing in on Shellos with deadly precision.
Dawn didn't flinch. "Shellos, Mud Shot—make it elegant!"
Shellos's small, squishy body seemed to bounce with conviction. He launched a blast of mud, but instead of flinging it carelessly, Shellos twirled the mud gracefully, the projectile spiraling in a delicate arc. The mud split mid-air, as though choreographed, creating an almost artistic design. The crowd gasped, both impressed and perplexed at the sight of mud being used with such finesse.
Some of the audience were still unsure, though; mud wasn't exactly the most glamorous thing to showcase, and their confused murmurs filled the arena.
Xatu dodged the Mud Shot with ease, but as it swooped in for Aerial Ace, the mud scattered across the stage, causing it to skid slightly on landing. The elegant entrance Xatu was aiming for faltered for a moment, and more of Eric's points trickled away on the scoreboard.
Eric clenched his teeth, clearly agitated by the subtle point loss.
"Keep it together, Xatu! Drill Peck!"
Xatu's beak glowed as it shot toward Shellos, spiraling with deadly precision. Eric's intent was clear—he was aiming to overwhelm Dawn and end the battle early.
Dawn narrowed her eyes. "Muddy Water, let's dazzle them!"
Shellos's body glowed with determination as she summoned a swirling wave of water, mixed with mud, but instead of just hurling it directly, the water curled around her like a ribbon, swirling into an elegant spiral. The muddy water flowed with unexpected beauty, catching the stage lights in a mesmerizing, fluid motion.
The water surged upward in a sudden arc, catching Xatu mid-flight and sending it reeling backward. Despite the muddy nature of the attack, the sheer grace of how the move was executed drew gasps from the crowd. Some of the previously skeptical audience members began to nod in appreciation.
Eric's face twisted in frustration as his points dropped further. The scoreboard now showed Dawn with a slight lead.
Amelia leaned forward, eyes glinting with interest. "Now that's impressive. Shellos turned a traditionally messy attack into something almost artistic! Dawn Platinum's really playing to the contest's strengths."
Another judge nodded approvingly, jotting down notes. "Look at the fluidity of that Muddy Water! It's not just about power, it's about presentation, and she's using every drop to her advantage."
The third judge smiled faintly, visibly intrigued. "She's managed to take a simple mud-based move and turn it into a spectacle. Unconventional, but undeniably striking."
The audience's murmurs shifted to praise, many of them surprised by the combination of power and grace from such a typically rough attack.
The tension between Dawn and Eric escalated as the battle raged on. Xatu, still recovering from the hit of Muddy Water, circled back into the air with graceful precision, preparing for another strike. Eric's eyes gleamed with confidence.
"Shadow Ball!" he shouted.
Xatu's wings flared, forming a dark, pulsating orb of energy between them. With a sharp cry, it launched the attack toward Shellos, who stood poised, waiting for Dawn's command.
Dawn's voice rang out clear. "Dodge and use Mud Shot!"
With agility that surprised the audience, Shellos deftly sidestepped the Shadow Ball, his small body barely a blur as he avoided the impact. He responded swiftly by firing a stream of mud from his mouth. The attack shot upward, but Xatu managed to twist in the air, narrowly avoiding the strike. The points on Eric's side dropped ever so slightly.
Eric scowled. "Enough of this. Xatu, Air Slash!"
The air around Xatu shimmered as its wings slashed through the atmosphere, creating razor-sharp blades of wind. The attack hurtled toward Shellos with blinding speed.
"Block it with Muddy Water!" Dawn commanded.
Shellos responded instantly, summoning a defensive wave of water and mud that swirled elegantly around him. The Air Slash collided with the watery shield, but the force behind Xatu's attack began to overpower it. The swirling mud broke apart under the pressure, and one final blade of wind sliced through the barrier, striking Shellos directly.
A gasp rose from the crowd as Shellos was sent tumbling across the stage, his small form flung dangerously close to the edge of the arena. For a moment, it seemed like he might fall out of bounds.
But then, with a display of sheer determination, Shellos twisted mid-air, redirecting his fall and gliding across the ground with surprising grace. He slid to a halt, staying firmly within the bounds of the stage, though Dawn's points took a hit, the score displayed on the big screen shifting in Eric's favor.
"Not bad," Eric smirked, clearly pleased by the momentary upper hand. "But it won't save you."
Dawn clenched her fists. "Stay focused, Shellos! We've got this!"
Eric wasted no time. "Drill Peck, finish it!"
Xatu's beak gleamed as it dived, spiraling downward toward Shellos in a blur of speed and precision.
"Water Gun, now!" Dawn called out, her voice firm with determination.
Just as Xatu was about to make contact, Shellos unleashed a powerful jet of water, the stream shooting upward with stunning force. The water spiraled like a torrent, catching Xatu off guard mid-dive. The blast struck Xatu squarely, knocking it off its course. Xatu was thrown back by the sheer power of the attack, tumbling across the stage.
The audience erupted into cheers as Xatu struggled to regain its composure. Eric's eyes widened in disbelief as his points took a drastic dip. Dawn's swift counterattack had turned the tide.
"Let's end this!" Dawn shouted. "Shellos, Water Gun one more time!"
With renewed energy, Shellos blasted another powerful stream of water, the elegant arc of the spray shining under the lights as it made contact with Xatu. The crowd watched in awe as Xatu faltered, unable to keep up the fight. With one last stagger, Xatu collapsed to the ground, knocked out.
The screen flashed with the final score—Dawn had won.
A moment of stunned silence hung in the air before the crowd erupted into thunderous applause, their cheers echoing throughout the arena. The stage lights glistened off Shellos' still-wet body as he stood proudly, and even some of the skeptical audience members were now nodding in approval. On the large display screen, the points showed an undeniable victory for Dawn.
Up at the judges' table, Amelia exchanged approving glances with her fellow judges before leaning into the microphone, her voice resonating through the hall. "And the winner of this round... Dawn Platinum!"
The applause grew louder, filling the room with a sense of excitement and admiration. Dawn stood there, her expression still calm, but a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She looked down at Shellos, who let out a victorious cry.
Across the stage, Eric's face was a mix of emotions—frustration, disbelief, and something else entirely. His confident smirk had vanished, replaced by a scowl as he recalled his defeated Xatu. He stared at Dawn for a moment, the tension between them palpable. Then, something unexpected happened. He cracked a smile, small and tight-lipped.
"Hmph," Eric muttered, stepping closer to Dawn. "Alright, so maybe that Shellos of yours isn't as weak as he looks." He glanced at Shellos, then back at Dawn, his eyes narrowing slightly as though he were still processing the defeat. "I mean, it's still a total fluke you won, but hey... a win's a win, I guess."
With a smirk tugging at his lips, he extended his hand toward her. Dawn stared at his outstretched hand for a moment, surprised by the gesture. Slowly, her smile broadened. She reached out and clasped his hand firmly, shaking it.
Up in the stands, Stephanie Schofield zoomed in with her camera, narrating the scene. "Now that's what you like to see—true sportsmanship between rivals. Even in the heat of competition, these two know how to keep it civil!"
Eric's grip on Dawn's hand tightened ever so slightly as he leaned in, his smile never faltering but his voice dripping with determination. "If we ever meet again, I'm gonna mop the floor with you, remember that."
Dawn, unfazed, raised an eyebrow. "You're welcome to try, loser," she shot back, her eyes flashing with confidence.
Their handshake lingered for a moment longer before they released each other. Eric turned and began walking toward his group of friends waiting at the edge of the stage, their laughter audible even from a distance.
"Hey, it's not funny!" Eric grumbled, throwing a glare over his shoulder. "She just got lucky, that's all!"
In the bleachers, a faint smirk tugged at the corners of Fantina's lips. She tilted her head slightly, her vibrant hair catching the light. So Johanna reahl-lee 'as been working her, she thought, her smile deepening.
As the cheers echoed around the arena, Dawn pulled out her Poké Ball and gently returned Shellos. "You did great," she whispered under her breath, offering the tiniest of smiles before slipping the ball back into her bag.
But as she turned to leave the stage, a sharp pang shot up her arm. She winced, clutching at the bandages wrapped tightly around her wrist, the sting from Eric's grip still fresh. Her steps slowed, the pain momentarily overwhelming the adrenaline of victory.
She gritted her teeth, pressing her fingers harder against the bandages as she made her way off the stage.
The next few matches unfolded quickly, a rapid succession of battles that kept the energy in the arena high.
The second match pitted Gerald Nikolai, a flamboyant man in a sparkling gold suit, against a more subdued coordinator with a sleek Vibrava.
Gerald's Grumpig moved with flair, every psychic attack delivered with a twirl of his cane and a smug grin. Despite Vibrava's impressive speed and ground-based attacks, Grumpig's telekinetic prowess kept it at bay.
The match ended with a dazzling Psychic attack, lifting Vibrava into the air before slamming it back into the ground. The crowd roared with approval as Gerald's points stayed firmly in the lead, his victory sealed.
The third match was more evenly paced, with two up-and-coming coordinators giving their all. It was a close contest—both sides exchanging blows with precision and style.
Sparks flew from a Manectric's Thunderbolt as it clashed against the fiery moves of its opponent's Rapidash.
The back-and-forth seemed endless until, in the final moments, a perfectly timed Flame Charge from Rapidash turned the tide, leaving the audience in awe. The match ended with only a slim margin separating the two competitors, but Rapidash's trainer ultimately advanced.
The final match between Fantina and Michelle Morgan had the crowd buzzing with anticipation. Fantina, as poised and elegant as ever, stood at her side of the stage, her ethereal gown flowing as if it were part of the air around her.
On the other side, Michelle trembled slightly, sweat already beading on her brow. She gripped her Poké Ball tightly, clearly nervous about facing the formidable Gym Leader.
The judges exchanged knowing glances, already predicting the outcome based on Fantina's reputation. Amelia leaned into her microphone, her voice crisp. "It's clear Fantina is the one to beat here today. Michelle looks tense—let's see how she handles this."
Michelle took a shaky breath and threw her Poké Ball into the air, calling out her Pokémon. "Miltank, I choose you!" she cried, her voice faltering. The large, pink bovine appeared on stage, stomping the ground in preparation for the battle.
Fantina, however, remained utterly calm. With a graceful flick of her wrist, she sent out her own Pokémon. "Mismagius, show zem yur your elegance."
A brilliant swirl of purple light erupted from Fantina's Poké Ball, and Mismagius materialized, floating ominously above the stage. Its piercing red eyes glowed with a calm yet eerie intensity, sending a ripple of unease through Michelle and her Miltank.
The timer on the large screen began counting down.
Michelle, desperate to gain some momentum, shouted, "Miltank, use Rollout!"
Miltank curled into a ball and began rolling toward Mismagius, building speed and force. But Fantina didn't even blink. "Magical Leaf, mon dear," she commanded, her voice silky smooth.
Mismagius conjured a flurry of glowing, multicolored leaves that danced around the battlefield with dazzling beauty. The leaves swarmed Miltank, slicing through its Rollout attack effortlessly. The bovine Pokémon was forced to stop in its tracks, momentarily dazed by the overwhelming precision of the attack.
One of the judges, a middle-aged man with a monocle, leaned forward, his voice echoing over the arena speakers. "What impeccable control over Magical Leaf! Fantina is showing us exactly why she's so revered."
Michelle, now visibly sweating, bit her lip. "Body Slam, Miltank, hurry!"
Miltank charged again, its bulky frame barreling toward Mismagius, hoping to make contact this time. But Fantina merely sighed, her expression unchanged. "Thunderbolt, now."
Before Miltank could even get close, Mismagius released a brilliant surge of electricity. The Thunderbolt crackled through the air, striking Miltank and forcing it to retreat with a pained moo. Miltank staggered back, its legs trembling from the shock.
The audience gasped, watching as Michelle's points plummeted on the screen. Amelia spoke again, this time with a hint of sympathy. "Michelle's struggling to keep up—Fantina is absolutely in control of this battle."
Despite the ferocity of the attacks, Miltank hadn't been knocked out, but Michelle's panic was growing. "We...we can't lose! Use Rollout again!" she shouted, her voice quivering.
Miltank tried once more, rolling toward Mismagius with all the force it could muster, but it was no use. Fantina's Mismagius elegantly dodged the attack without effort, barely moving. The ghost-type's eyes gleamed with quiet amusement, as if it barely considered Miltank a threat.
Fantina's calm gaze remained fixed on Michelle, not even deigning to look concerned. "Dark Pulse, darleng."
Mismagius unleashed a swirling wave of dark energy that rippled across the stage. Miltank struggled to keep its balance as the force of the Dark Pulse sent it staggering backward again. Michelle's points dropped even further.
The clock was ticking, and Michelle had barely landed a single move. Dawn, watching from the bleachers, felt a chill crawl up her spine as she observed the sheer dominance Fantina commanded. Her Mismagius hadn't been hit once, and the points reflected that merciless efficiency.
Dawn swallowed, her eyes wide. How am I supposed to beat that...? The thought of facing Fantina in the future filled her with a mix of awe and dread. She couldn't help but be impressed, but the fear gnawed at her too.
Back in the arena, Michelle's time was running out. She looked helpless, her hands trembling as the clock ticked down. Fantina didn't even bother to call another attack, merely watching as Miltank panted heavily, too tired and overwhelmed to land a proper blow.
When the final buzzer sounded, the match ended not with a knockout, but with a complete point victory for Fantina. Michelle's score had been all but drained.
The judges gave their final commentary, with one saying, "Fantina's control over the battlefield is truly remarkable. To dominate without even losing a single point... that's the level of skill we expect from a master of coordination."
Amelia nodded. "An absolute masterclass from Fantina. Michelle fought valiantly, but she was simply outmatched today."
As the crowd clapped and cheered, Stephanie Schofield, who had been capturing the entire battle on camera, leaned forward. "Incredible sportsmanship on display, but Fantina's skill is simply unmatched. A flawless victory without Mismagius taking a single hit!"
Fantina, meanwhile, watched Michelle recall her Miltank, her violet eyes cold. What a wéakleng... she thought, her lips barely twitching in disdain. If Mismagius 'ad uséd any of its movés at full power, the battle would'vé been over een a single strike.
Without a word, Fantina turned away from the stage, her gown billowing around her as Mismagius floated at her side. She barely spared a glance at her defeated opponent. To her, the battle was nothing more than a formality.
Michelle, head down, left the stage in silence, still trembling from the overwhelming performance she had just faced. Meanwhile, Dawn remained in her seat, her heart pounding. The sight of Fantina's flawless victory echoed in her mind. Can I really compete at that level...?
As the applause from the crowd began to die down, the judges stood to make their announcement. Amelia leaned into her microphone once more, her voice carrying through the arena.
"Thank you to all the contestants for their efforts in today's matches. We have seen some truly impressive displays of skill," she said, her eyes scanning the stage and the gathered coordinators. "Now, the moment many of you have been waiting for. The semi-finals of the Battle Round will begin in exactly one hour!"
There was a stir of excitement from the audience and contestants alike, a buzz of anticipation filling the air.
"And," Amelia continued with a smile, "unlike the first round, the semi-finals will be fought in a Double Battle format! Coordinators will have to rely on teamwork, strategy, and coordination to win this next stage."
The crowd murmured with interest, while some of the remaining coordinators exchanged glances, already planning their next moves.
One of the other judges, a woman with a regal demeanor, chimed in, "The Double Battle format requires twice the tactical awareness. Contestants will need to demonstrate not just individual flair, but how they can balance two Pokémon in harmony."
Gerald who had won his match earlier, smirked confidently, crossing his arms as he absorbed the information. Dawn, still sitting in the bleachers, clenched her fist lightly. A Double Battle... She thought back to her earlier training and began to mentally prepare herself for the challenge ahead.
As the lights in the arena dimmed, the large screen at the center of the stadium flickered to life. The audience quieted down in anticipation, and the remaining coordinators watched closely as the faces of the four semi-finalists were displayed: Dawn, Fantina, Gerald Nikolai, and Lloyd Lang.
The screen buzzed with energy as the randomizer began to spin, flashing their portraits in rapid succession. Dawn's face appeared, followed by Gerald's in quick succession. The audience murmured, intrigued by the match-up.
Gerald, dressed in his sparkly gold suit, raised an eyebrow at the result. The Shellos girl, he thought, his fingers tapping his chin. She seemed fairly strong... It'll be fun having an opponent we don't have to hold back on.
Across the bleachers, Dawn caught Gerald's gaze. She felt a pulse of determination surge within her and gave him a firm nod of her head. He smirked back, clearly ready for the challenge.
As for the last pair: Fantina and Lloyd Lang. Lloyd, a tall, broad-shouldered man with wild brown hair and a confident smirk, clenched his fists as he saw his name beside the revered Gym Leader and Contest Master. My Rapidash won't lose to anyone, not even one as experienced as her, he thought, his jaw tightening in resolve.
Fantina, sitting calmly in the bleachers, cast a glance at the screen. She gave no sign of surprise or emotion as her name was paired with Lloyd. There wasn't even a flicker of doubt on her face. Anothair weakleng, she mused internally. Zis won't even be challengeng.
Johanna stood outside the village inn, her suitcase clutched tightly in one hand. She glanced back at the building, her heart aching. Once a place of hope and potential reconciliation, it now seemed to loom with the ghosts of her and Dawn's relationship.
She had come here with the intention of repairing their fractured relationship, of bridging the gap that had grown wider over time. But everything that happened left her feeling defeated, the hope she had clung to now slipping through her fingers.
The early morning sun cast a gentle glow over the town, but it did little to lighten her mood. She spotted a taxi stand nearby and made her way towards it, her heart heavy with each step.
As she waited, Johanna's gaze wandered. A mother and daughter walked past, hand-in-hand, laughing together. The sight tugged at Johanna's heart, stirring a pang of longing and sadness. She watched them for a moment, her eyes reflecting the bittersweet scene, before she turned away, blinking back the emotions that threatened to surface.
Johanna continued her walk, the weight of her suitcase seeming to grow heavier with each step. She reached the taxi stand and checked her watch.
Not very long later, a taxi pulled up to the curb. The driver, an older man with a weathered face and kind eyes, stepped out and opened the trunk for her suitcase.
She approached the waiting taxi, the familiar yellow cab standing out against the gray morning. She tugged her suitcase over to the curb, its wheels bumping over the uneven stones.
"Hey," Johanna greeted the driver as she placed her suitcase in the trunk.
"Morning, miss," he replied, his tone warm despite the early hour. "Where to today?"
"Train station," Johanna answered tersely, sliding into the back seat of the taxi, its interior simple but clean.
As the taxi pulled away from the curb, Johanna glanced out the window, her expression distant. The streets were crowded with early commuters, and the traffic moved sluggishly, the honking of horns and murmur of engines creating a symphony of city life that felt out of sync with her mood.
The driver's casual chatter began as they navigated the traffic. "Looks like it's going to be a busy day," he remarked, peering through the rear-view mirror. "A lot of people out and about already."
Johanna gave a noncommittal nod, her eyes focused on the cityscape that blurred past. She didn't respond to his comment, her thoughts elsewhere.
After a few moments of silence, the driver glanced back at Johanna with a thoughtful frown. He studied her face through the rear-view mirror, his eyes narrowing in concentration. "Hold on a second," he said, his tone tinged with curiosity. "I think I know you."
Johanna kept her gaze fixed out the window, her posture rigid and unyielding. The driver's interest seemed to grow as he continued, his voice taking on a more animated, almost excited quality. "Wait a minute, yeah! I recognize your face now. You're Johanna, aren't you? The coordinator?"
A flicker of surprise crossed Johanna's features. She shifted slightly in her seat, her voice carrying a hint of dry humor as she responded, "I didn't think I left enough of a lasting impression for people to recognize me all the way out here."
The driver's enthusiasm seemed to ignite even further. "Oh, absolutely! I used to watch the Pokémon Contests with my wife—bless her soul. We'd settle in on Saturday nights and cheer you on. I remember seeing you on TV a few times. You were something special, unlike any young coordinator I'd ever seen. That must've been, what, eleven, twelve years ago?"
"Good times..." Johanna said quietly, her tone carrying a hint of nostalgia as she gazed out the window.
"Seriously, you had what it took to become a Top Coordinator," The driver's eyes lit up with genuine admiration. "Forgive me if this sounds rude, but what happened? I mean, you surely had enough ribbons to enter a Grand Festival, right?"
Johanna's gaze remained fixed on the passing scenery, her face set in an unreadable expression. "I had a baby," she said simply.
The driver's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and his voice carried an enthusiastic edge. "Wow, a baby! Congratulations! How old are they?"
"12..." Johanna replied, her voice heavy with resigned reflection, as if the years of her past were weighing on her.
The driver's face softened, a look of understanding spreading across it. "Oh wow, 12 months, lucky you!"
"Years..." Johanna corrected, her tone laced with a hint of frustration as she glanced briefly at him before returning to stare out the window.
At the next red light, the driver pulled to a stop and turned his head back toward Johanna. His expression shifted to one of stunned realization. "Oh... oh." He fell silent, the awkwardness of the moment hanging in the air.
Johanna sighed deeply, looking away from him and back out the window. The driver's initial shock seemed to pass, and after a few moments, he spoke again, his tone more somber. "That must've been tough, becoming a mother at such a young age."
"Yep, pretty much," Johanna responded tersely, crossing her arms as if to shield herself from further inquiry.
The light turned green, and the driver resumed driving, his curiosity not entirely quelled. "Boy, or girl?" he asked, trying to keep the conversation moving despite the earlier awkwardness.
"Girl," Johanna answered curtly.
The driver's interest piqued again, and he looked back at her with renewed curiosity. "12-years old, huh? That's old enough to become a coordinator. Is she following in your footsteps?"
"Trainer," Johanna's expression remained guarded. "Though she's trying her hand at contests."
The driver kept his eyes on the road, but his tone was reflective. "You know, children have a way of taking us on unexpected journeys. Sometimes, we make choices that seem right at the time, but life has a way of challenging those choices."
Johanna's gaze remained fixed on the passing scenery, her arms still crossed. The road ahead was congested with traffic, giving her plenty of time to contemplate the driver's words. "I suppose," she murmured, her voice tinged with a weariness that belied her calm exterior. "But it doesn't always feel like those choices lead anywhere good."
The driver's voice was gentle, yet probing. "Parenting can be incredibly tough. I've had my share of challenges with my own kids. Sometimes, we push them away without realizing it, even when we're trying our best."
"I'm not sure I even know what's best anymore. My daughter—she wants nothing to do with me. And you know what, she's right to," Johanna sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly as if the weight of her thoughts was becoming too much to bear. "Everything I've done in my life has been a mistake."
The driver's eyes flicked to the rear-view mirror, noting the anguish in Johanna's expression. "It sounds like you've been carrying a heavy burden. Parenting isn't just about the right choices; it's also about understanding and adapting to our children's needs. Sometimes, we can't foresee the impact of our actions."
"I tried so hard to give her everything I thought she needed," Johanna's voice grew more despondent as she continued. "But all I've done is hurt her. That's the only thing I'm good at..."
"It's easy to be hard on ourselves when things don't turn out as we hoped," The driver's tone was understanding, though he spoke with a certain wisdom. "But it's also important to recognize that we're all human, and we all make mistakes. It doesn't mean we've failed—just that we have more to learn."
Johanna turned her gaze to him, her eyes reflecting a mixture of frustration and vulnerability. "You think I can fix it? That there's something I can do to make it right?"
The driver's expression grew thoughtful. "Sometimes, our children need to see that we're still willing to try, no matter how many times we've fallen short. They might not understand it right away, but your efforts can show them that you're still there for them."
Johanna sat in silence, her fingers gripping her arms a little tighter. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but the words never came. Instead, she gave a long, quiet sigh and nodded, her eyes drifting back to the window.
As Dawn and Gerald stepped onto the stage, the anticipation in the contest hall rose. The lights dimmed slightly, focusing on the two competitors, each with their Poké Ball in hand. A low murmur spread across the audience, building in excitement for what was to come.
Up at the judges' table, Amelia leaned in with a bright smile, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "This is going to be an exciting round," she said, glancing at her fellow judges. "Dawn has shown great promise in earlier rounds, but Gerald is no stranger to contests either. This one's going to come down to creativity."
Her fellow judge nodded in agreement. "Gerald's style tends to be more traditional, while Dawn's performances have had a certain flair. I'm curious to see how this clash of styles plays out."
"Both coordinators have worked hard to get here," The third judge chimed in with a warm smile. "The key will be in how they handle their Pokémon under pressure. That's where true brilliance shines."
The camera panned across the audience, catching the enthusiastic cheers of the crowd. A group of young fans held up banners with Dawn's name written in bright, colorful letters. "Go Dawn!" they shouted, their voices blending with the overall buzz of excitement. Another section was clearly rooting for Gerald, clapping and chanting his name in rhythmic support.
At the reporters' booth, Stephanie Schofield adjusted her microphone and gave her viewers a professional smile as she began her live commentary. "You can feel the electricity in the air right now. The audience is absolutely buzzing! And no wonder—both coordinators have pulled off incredible feats to make it this far. The question is, who will capture the judges' attention with that extra bit of magic?"
"Just a reminder to everyone watching," Amelia announced with authority, "this will be a double battle, so both coordinators will need to demonstrate exceptional teamwork between their two Pokémon.
Gerald smirked confidently and tossed his Poké Balls with a flourish. As they spun, a shower of multicolored sparks lit the stage. Grumpig and Spinda emerged in perfect sync, accompanied by bursts of light and confetti. Grumpig bounced gracefully on its pearls, while Spinda twirled in a dizzying, spiraling routine.
The audience responded with cheers, impressed by the opening routine. The judges nodded in approval, clearly appreciating the showmanship.
Amelia whispered something to her fellow judges, smiling. "Strong opener. Gerald's Pokémon know how to make an entrance."
Now it was Dawn's turn. Without hesitation, she took her two Poké Balls, holding them with a determined look. "Let's do this! Staravia, Luxio, take the stage!"
With a quick flick of her wrist, the Poké Balls flew into the air, spinning faster and faster. As they reached their peak, the balls cracked open, releasing Staravia and Luxio in a flash of brilliant blue light. The two Pokémon landed in perfect unison on the stage, both striking a powerful, coordinated pose. Luxio growled softly, electricity crackling around his fur, while Staravia stood tall beside him, his gaze sharp and unwavering.
"Impressive," one of the judges murmured, watching the two Pokémon on Dawn's side. "They've got a natural synergy."
The crowd erupted into applause as Dawn and Gerald's fans cheered loudly from the stands. In the audience, Fantina, arms crossed, observed with a raised brow. "A Luxio and a Staravia, intairesténg," she remarked thoughtfully. "Those Pokémon look a step above zat Shellos she's been useng."
The battle began with Gerald confidently calling the first strike. "Grumpig, Bounce! Spinda, Focus Punch!"
Grumpig's reaction was lightning fast, springing off its pearls with such speed that it became a blur, soaring skyward faster than anyone could process. It shot through the clouds, disappearing completely from sight. Meanwhile, Spinda barreled toward Luxio with its arm glowing, charging up a devastating Focus Punch.
Dawn responded swiftly, her voice calm but focused. "Staravia, Quick Attack! Luxio, Thunder Shock!"
Staravia shot forward, blurring across the stage in a flash of speed. His illusions created afterimages, scattering across the battlefield to confuse Spinda. At the same time, Luxio released a powerful Thunder Shock, crackling through the air in dazzling arcs.
The electric current snaked toward Spinda, striking the ground just as Spinda's Focus Punch connected with one of Staravia's illusions, making the attack go wide. The electricity from Luxio's Thunder Shock added a spectacular visual effect, drawing gasps from the audience.
As the battle raged, the scoreboard shifted. Dawn's points dipped slightly as Spinda's attack clipped Staravia, and Gerald's points took a hit when Grumpig's Bounce missed.
Dawn gritted her teeth but maintained her composure. "Luxio, Fire Fang! Staravia, Double Team!"
Luxio charged forward, flames dancing from his jaws as he leaped at Spinda with a fiery bite. Staravia, quick to follow, blurred into multiple copies again, creating a disorienting field of illusions around Spinda. The combined assault made it impossible for Gerald's Pokémon to anticipate which attack was real.
"Grumpig, come down now! Spinda, Shock Wave!" Gerald's voice was edged with urgency.
High above, Grumpig plummeted from the sky with frightening speed, breaking through the clouds. As it descended, Spinda unleashed a Shock Wave, sending tendrils of electricity outward in every direction. The energy crashed through Staravia's illusions, striking the real Staravia with a sharp crack of lightning. The scoreboard ticked downward on Dawn's side, and the crowd gasped as her points dipped again.
"Keep it together, Staravia!" Dawn urged, her voice cutting through the noise. Staravia shook off the attack, his fierce gaze locked onto his opponent.
Then, just as Grumpig was about to land, Dawn seized the moment. "Luxio, Double Kick! Staravia, Steel Wing!"
In a blur of motion, Luxio dashed toward Grumpig, his first kick hitting like a lightning strike. Before anyone could react, Luxio vanished in a blitz, reappearing behind Grumpig for the second kick.
At the same moment, Staravia charged forward, his wings glowing with a metallic sheen. Though he couldn't fly, he spun gracefully on his talons, his Steel Wing colliding with Spinda in a brilliant display of light and force.
The impact of the two Pokémon's synchronized attacks drew gasps from the audience, and the scoreboard flashed as Gerald's points plummeted. Gerald winced, realizing how quickly the tide was turning.
The judges were quick to comment. "Incredible synergy from Dawn's team! The combination of Luxio's speed and Staravia's power is something to behold!" Amelia said, clearly impressed.
"Grumpig, Psybeam! Spinda, Psycho Cut!" Gerald wasn't done yet, trying to rally his team for a final push. Grumpig unleashed a rainbow-hued Psybeam that shot toward Luxio, while Spinda conjured shimmering blades of psychic energy aimed at Staravia.
Dawn was ready. "Luxio, Thunder Shock! Staravia, Steel Wing—on the Thunder Shock!"
As Grumpig's Psybeam neared, Luxio unleashed a surge of electricity toward Staravia. The lightning arced through the air, striking Staravia's metallic wings just as he spun toward the incoming Psycho Cut. The combination of electricity and steel created a stunning visual display as Staravia's wings, now charged with energy, deflected the attack and continued toward Spinda. The electrified Steel Wing struck with a flash, sending Spinda reeling.
The crowd erupted into cheers, the judges leaning forward with excitement as the final seconds ticked away. The scoreboard flashed once more, and Dawn's points edged out Gerald's by the narrowest margin.
The battle was over. Dawn had won.
Luxio and Staravia landed side by side in perfect unison, their movements still brimming with grace and power. "Star!" Staravia chirped confidently, puffing his chest out. "Lux!" Luxio responded with a proud flick of his tail. The two shared a glance, their eyes meeting for a brief moment before breaking into a smile.
The crowd erupted into thunderous applause, filling the arena with cheers and excitement. Dawn's victory had sent a wave of energy through the audience. Amelia, the lead judge, leaned into her microphone with a smile.
"An absolutely stellar performance by both coordinators," she said. "Dawn Platinum has demonstrated remarkable skill and creativity, earning her a well-deserved spot in the final round. Congratulations, Dawn!"
From the reporters' section, Stephanie Schofield was quick to follow up. "You could feel the tension in that match! Dawn's seamless coordination between Luxio and Staravia showed not just strength, but beauty in motion. A close battle, no doubt—Gerald put up quite a fight, but it's clear we've got a finalist on our hands!"
On stage, Gerald knelt beside his Grumpig and Spinda, offering them kind words despite the loss. "You two were amazing, gave it everything. Thank you," he said, patting them both gently before recalling them into their Poké Balls. He stood up, his expression calm as he looked over at Dawn.
"Well," he said with a good-natured grin, "if I'm to lose to anyone, I'm glad it's a strong coordinator like you. Plenty of luck in the finals." With a respectful nod, Gerald turned and left the stage.
Dawn blinked, slightly taken aback by his sportsmanship. She turned to Luxio and Staravia, her smile returning. "Alright! Awesome work, you two!"
Only Staravia glanced back, his eyes gleaming with pride as he chirped, "Star!" He gave a brief nod before continuing to walk forward. Luxio followed, his focus already forward as they both slowly exited the stage together. Dawn watched them walk ahead, her heart warming for a moment before the familiar wave of insecurity crept in.
Fantina stood with her arms crossed, the cheers of the crowd echoing around her, but she barely heard them. Her eyes narrowed, and her jaw tightened as she watched Dawn's retreating form. Zat girl...
Her teeth gritted, frustration and something deeper bubbling beneath the surface. Without realizing it, her mind slipped back—back to another time, another place.
The sound of creaking wood filled the air, and suddenly, she was sitting at an old, rundown cottage. The dim light flickered from a weak chandelier above, casting long shadows on the faded wallpaper. The dinner table was small, barely enough room for the modest plates of food in front of them.
Fantina sat at the dinner table, holding her spoon delicately, trying to eat her soup with an elegance that felt out of place in such a setting. She kept her back straight, her movements graceful, just as her mother had always demanded. Tonight, though, the pressure felt heavier than usual.
Her parents—once surrounded by lavish feasts and luxury in their grand home on Fullmoon Island—now sat across from her, their faces etched with desperation. They had lost everything. The wealth, the status, the estate with its manicured gardens—gone, thanks to a failed investment in an exclusive resort venture.
Now, they were forced to live in a small rural village on the outskirts of Sandgem Town, clinging to the hope that their daughter's talent as a coordinator would restore their fortunes.
"You must 'uld yur spoon wiv more gracé, Fantina," her mother said, her tone cold as she scrutinized every movement. "A coordinator eez elegant een all things, evén een ze simple act of eateng."
Fantina swallowed hard, the weight of expectation pressing down on her. "Oui, mother," she muttered, forcing herself to remain composed. The demands never stopped.
Her father's utensils clinked loudly as he set them down, his gaze hard. "Your pairfairmances 'ave potential, but potential won't pay our debts. You need to bé flawléz. Every détail matters."
She stared at her soup, her appetite gone. Why couldn't zey just love me fair who I am? Why eez évairythéng abut money? The thoughts screamed in her head, but she knew better than to voice them. Instead, she bit her lip, fighting back the tears welling in her eyes.
Her mother broke the silence again, her voice sharper. "If you don't start winnéng, we weehl 'ave nothéng left. Do you understand? Zis eez not just your future—it's ours."
The bitterness in Fantina's chest swelled, and before she could stop herself, the words spilled out. "I'm tryéng my bést, but maibe if you didn't expect me to fix evairythéng, I could—"
The sharp crack of her mother's hand across her cheek silenced her. Fantina's head snapped to the side, her face stinging from the blow. Her mother's expression was cold, devoid of remorse.
"You weehl not speak to us zat way," her mother hissed. "Go to yur room. Now. And you weehl go wivoot dinner."
Tears burned at the edges of Fantina's eyes as she stood, pushing the chair back with a scrape. Without another word, she fled to her room, her heart aching.
Fantina buried her face in her pillow, muffling her sobs as the tears flowed freely. The sting of her mother's slap still burned on her cheek, but the pain in her heart hurt worse. She wanted to scream, to let out all the frustration and fear, but she couldn't. Instead, she cried quietly, hoping no one would hear.
Suddenly, a faint noise from outside caught her attention. It was soft but persistent—something rhythmic. Sniffling, she lifted her head and wiped her eyes. Through her tears, she glanced out the small window beside her bed.
There, in the pale light of the moon, she saw her. The same girl she had noticed during her first contest a few weeks ago. She was practicing again, just like before, but now in the shadowy yard of the village.
The girl wore ragged clothing—her dress was simple, made of thin, faded fabric, patched in places, and her shoes were scuffed and worn. Her dark hair was tied back with a makeshift ribbon, and her movements were filled with determination, even though her appearance told the story of someone with little to give.
The girl had a Bidoof and a Combee by her side, both performing in sync with her. The Bidoof spun in tight circles, balancing on its hind legs, while the Combee flitted through the air, buzzing in intricate loops around the girl. She moved with grace, guiding them effortlessly, as though the routines came as naturally as breathing.
Fantina couldn't take her eyes off her. How eez she zo confident? Zo graceful? she wondered. The girl's practice wasn't flawless, but it had a certain magic to it. The girl's smile—small, but proud—shone through, even in the dim light.
Without thinking, Fantina found herself sitting up in bed. She wiped the last of her tears away and peeked out of her room. Her parents were still sitting at the kitchen table, quietly speaking in hushed tones, far too consumed with their own thoughts to notice her.
Heart racing, Fantina tiptoed back to the window. Slowly, she unlatched it and pushed it open, the cool night air rushing in. Taking one last look at the girl outside, she steeled herself.
As Fantina tried to quietly slide out of the window, her foot slipped on the ledge. Before she could catch herself, she tumbled forward, landing flat on her face with a muffled thud in the grass below. A sharp pain shot through her knee, but worse than the ache was the humiliation that quickly set in.
The girl, her Bidoof, and Combee immediately stopped their practice, all eyes turning to the sudden commotion. Fantina groaned, slowly pushing herself up from the ground, feeling the heat of embarrassment rising in her cheeks.
The girl walked over, hands on her hips, her Bidoof trailing behind her. "Yo, you alright?" she asked, looking down at Fantina with a raised eyebrow.
Fantina's face flushed even deeper. "I-I'm fine!" she stammered, trying to brush off the dirt from her dress with shaky hands.
The girl raised an eyebrow, giving Fantina a skeptical look. "You sure? That looked like a pretty rough fall," she said, smirking as she held up her hand. "How many fingers am I holding up?"
Fantina, still flustered, quickly averted her gaze, trying to hide her face. "I-I don't need to—"
"Hold on a sec!" The girl stepped closer, squinting at her in the dim light. "Wait a minute..." Her eyes widened, and a grin spread across her face. "I know you!"
Fantina froze, her heart sinking as the girl burst into laughter.
"You're that girl from the contest in Jubilife!" The girl was practically doubled over now, her Bidoof watching with its head tilted in confusion. "You're that girl from Jubilife! The one who got coffee dumped all over her at the contest!"
Fantina's face turned red as she stumbled back to her feet, trying to smooth out her dress and her nerves. "I-it was not my fault!" she stammered, still feeling the sting of the memory. "Zat boy, he—"
But the girl waved her hand dismissively, clearly not holding it against her. "Oh, trust me, I know, I was there after all. That guy was a total jerk. But hey, not many people can pull off wearing hot coffee as part of their contest look."
Fantina huffed, trying to keep her composure as the girl's Bidoof and Combee buzzed nearby, watching curiously. "I... I am bettair now!" she insisted, folding her arms. "And zat won't 'appen again."
"Let's see, what was your name again?" The girl tilted her head, squinting slightly as if she was trying to recall some distant memory.
"Fantina," she answered with a little more confidence now. Then, after a pause, she looked at the girl. "And yurs?"
The girl flashed a grin, giving a playful thumbs-up. "Johanna. And you're looking at the soon-to-be best coordinator in the world!"
Fantina smiled, a spark of competitiveness lighting up in her eyes. "Oh? Well, zat title weehl bé mine first."
Johanna laughed, shaking her head. "We'll see about that, won't we?"
They continued talking, the conversation flowing with ease. Johanna shared stories about growing up in the village, her struggles and dreams of becoming a coordinator, and Fantina spoke about her life abroad, her love for performance, and the challenges she faced adjusting to her new life in Sinnoh.
As they spoke, an hour passed in what felt like minutes. The night sky had taken over the evening, stars twinkling against a deep velvet backdrop. The moon hung low, casting a soft glow over the village as a gentle breeze rustled through the trees. Kricketots chirped in the distance, filling the air with a peaceful melody.
Both girls now sat upon an old swing set behind the house, their legs gently kicking at the ground as they rocked back and forth.
"This place," Fantina said, her voice quiet, "it feels so different at night. Peaceful. You know, back in Fullmoon everything always feels... busy."
Johanna nodded, looking up at the stars. "Yeah, I get that. But sometimes the quiet can feel too quiet, you know? Like the whole world's sleeping and you're just... waiting." She glanced over at Fantina. "What about you? You miss it? Fullmoon, I mean."
Fantina thought for a moment. "Zumtimes. But I like eet haire too. Zis place feels... like a new start." She smiled softly. "Besides, I've got ze competition to focus on."
Johanna nudged her with her elbow. "Right, and I'm going to give you some tough competition!" She grinned mischievously, then kicked off the ground to make the swing go higher. "Better watch out, Fantina. I've got tricks up my sleeve you haven't even seen yet."
Fantina laughed, though it was cut short by the sound of footsteps—loud, angry footsteps. She froze, her body tensing as she turned her head.
Her parents stormed up to her with an urgency that made Fantina's breath catch in her throat. The moonlight caught the fury in their eyes, making their anger seem even more menacing against the shadowed backdrop of the night.
"Fantina!" Her mother's voice sliced through the tranquility. "What on airth do you think you're doéng oot haire?"
Her father's face was a storm cloud of frustration. "You'vé disobeyed us! How dare you sneak oot of yur ruhm? You're a terrible child!"
Before Fantina could react, her mother's hand gripped her arm tightly, pulling her towards them with an iron will. The harshness of the grip made Fantina wince. "You are een big troubuhl, young lady!" her father added, his voice tinged with an edge of contempt. "Do you know what zis means? You'll bé punished fair zis!"
Johanna, who had been sitting silently on the swing, jumped up, concern and defiance coloring her face. "Hey, ease up on her! She didn't do anything wrong!" she called out, stepping forward to stand between Fantina and her parents.
The disdain was immediate and palpable. Her mother's eyes narrowed as she took in Johanna's appearance—her simple, worn dress and the resigned posture that spoke of poverty.
"Who do you think you aré, speakng to us lik zat?" Her mother's voice was dripping with condescension. "Zis girl," she gestured towards Johanna, "is non bettair than dirt. She's from zis town, and she's beneath us."
Fantina's heart ached at the cruel words, but she forced herself to hold back tears. She could feel her mother's disapproving gaze burning into her. "Yes, I'm sorry, Mother," she said softly, her voice trembling with fear and resignation.
She turned her face back to Johanna, but her eyes were sharp and steely. "I... I shouldn't 'ave been talkéng to you. You're just... not wairth my time." Her words were harsh, each syllable like a cutting edge.
Her parents' faces brightened with a twisted sense of pride, and they placed a hand on Fantina's back, their smiles smug and satisfied.
Johanna stood there, her expression one of quiet hurt, her shoulders slumped as she watched Fantina walk away. The weight of the moment seemed to press heavily on her, but she tried to mask it with a forced calmness.
As Fantina walked away from Johanna, she glanced back one last time. But instead of Johanna, she saw a flash of another girl's face—Dawn. The brief image was vivid, etched with a sense of familiarity and sadness that she couldn't quite place.
The scene dissolved, and Fantina's gaze snapped back to the present. From her seat in the audience, her eyes were fixed on Dawn, who's performance on stage had grace that made Fantina's heart ache. The performance, so reminiscent of her mother's style, stirred an unsettling mix of emotions within her.
As Fantina's name flashed on the large screen, she shook her head in disbelief, her thoughts still swirling from the memories she had just relived. Her name was called alongside her opponent, Lloyd, and she felt a momentary pang of disorientation.
Determined to refocus, Fantina descended the bleachers. The audience's murmurs grew louder, and several heads turned to watch her with awe and curiosity.
Passing by Dawn, their eyes met for a fleeting second—in that brief moment, Fantina noticed something in Dawn's eyes that was eerily familiar. It was the same look Johanna had given her years ago—a penetrating stare that seemed to see right through her.
Fantina was momentarily caught off guard by the intensity of Dawn's gaze. The recognition was brief but powerful enough to unsettle her. With a final, resolute breath, she shook off the residual unease and stepped onto the stage.
Lloyd stepped onto the stage, his heart racing as the lights brightened. The crowd's applause felt distant, almost muffled by the pounding in his chest. He gave a quick glance around, trying to steady his nerves, and his eyes landed on Fantina. Her cold, calculating stare only made his pulse quicken.
"No matter who wins," Lloyd said, trying to sound confident, "this is sure to be a good battle."
Fantina didn't respond, her gaze hard and distant. She simply glared at him, her piercing eyes betraying no warmth, only icy determination. Lloyd swallowed hard, the knot in his stomach tightening. He was up against a force unlike anything he had faced before.
The buzzer echoed across the stage, signaling the start of the battle.
"May the match begin!" the judge announced.
Lloyd moved first, throwing his Poké Balls into the air with a flourish. "Rapidash, Jynx—let's show them our elegance!"
In flashes of light, Rapidash appeared, its flaming mane flickering in the spotlight, while Jynx swirled gracefully onto the stage, her movements fluid and poised.
Fantina followed suit with her own dramatic entrance. "Mismagius, Haunter, to the stage!"
Her ghostly companions emerged, Mismagius hovering with an air of mystique, while Haunter's eerie grin floated menacingly in the background. The crowd murmured in awe at the elegant display of both trainers.
"Let's go!" Lloyd called out. "Rapidash, use Fire Blast! Jynx, Ice Beam!"
Rapidash reared up on its hind legs, its fiery mane flaring brightly, casting an intense glow across the stage. With a fierce neigh, flames spiraled from its form, wrapping around its body like a fiery cyclone.
The blaze surged forward, Rapidash charging full-speed toward Mismagius and Haunter, leaving a scorching trail in its wake.
Behind Rapidash, Jynx twirled elegantly, its gloved hands tracing intricate patterns in the air. With a sudden flick of its wrists, a beam of glittering ice shot forth, the cold energy swirling and crackling as it followed closely behind Rapidash's fiery onslaught.
In the audience, Dawn's eyes widened. She leaned forward in her seat, gripping the armrest. "Woah, so that's the completed move Shellos is trying to master!?"
Fantina, not missing a beat, raised a hand with sharp precision. "Mismagius, Thunderbolt! Haunter, Night Shade!"
Mismagius cackled as it released a jagged surge of electricity, crashing into Rapidash's Fire Blast, creating a dazzling display of sparks. Haunter's dark aura enveloped it as Night Shade twisted through the air, intercepting Jynx's Ice Beam with shadowy tendrils.
The attacks collided in the air, explosions of light and darkness creating a spectacular show for the audience. Yet despite the elegance of the moves, Fantina's focus wasn't entirely there. Her cold demeanor began to crack under the surface. She was distracted, her mind clouded by thoughts she couldn't push away.
While Mismagius and Haunter danced elegantly, Lloyd noticed a slight falter in her timing, a hesitation that hadn't been there at the start.
He seized the moment. "Rapidash, Flare Blitz! Jynx, Psychic!"
Rapidash's hooves thundered across the stage, each step igniting the ground beneath it. Its entire body was consumed by a roaring inferno, flames licking upwards in a dazzling display of power.
The fiery aura intensified as it charged forward, the heat almost palpable as it barreled toward Mismagius. Flames curled and twisted around Rapidash's form, creating a blazing comet hurtling toward its target.
Jynx, meanwhile, stood poised with a sinister elegance, her violet eyes glowing with a fierce psychic energy. Waves of shimmering, invisible power rippled outward from her, distorting the air between her and Mismagius as she launched a focused attack, aiming to disorient the ghostly Pokémon with a mental assault.
Fantina, her usually unshakable poise faltering, hesitated for the briefest moment, her eyes widening as she saw the attacks converging. "Mismagius, Psywave—" her voice cracked with urgency, her arm lifting in a sharp command.
But the order came too late. Rapidash, surging with heat and speed, smashed into Mismagius with devastating force.
The fiery impact sent Mismagius flying backward, its ethereal form engulfed in a burst of flames as it sailed through the air. The crowd collectively held their breath, the tension thick as Mismagius hit the ground hard, its body tumbling before finally lying still.
Dawn, watching from the audience, leaned forward in her seat, her eyes wide with shock. "No way..." she whispered, unable to believe what she was seeing. Fantina, usually so composed, was losing her grip on the battle.
"A critical blow from Rapidash! Fantina's Mismagius was unable to dodge in time," Amelia noted, his tone measured but clearly surprised. "This is an unexpected turn of events. You don't often see a hit land like that on one of Fantina's Pokémon."
"Indeed, Mr. Contesta," added another judge, his eyes wide with concern. "Mismagius has taken some serious damage. Fantina will need to recover quickly to stay in control of this battle."
Stephanie Schofield leaned closer to her mic, her voice excited but tinged with curiosity. "What a hit, folks! This is a rare sight—Fantina, usually known for her flawless coordination, seems shaken. Could it be that Lloyd is managing to get under her skin?"
Fantina's heart pounded as the shock of the hit washed over her. Her normally composed face twisted with anger as she stared at Mismagius, still lying on the ground, its form flickering weakly from the intense flames of Rapidash's attack. Her eyes darted toward the scoreboard, where her points plummeted rapidly. A sharp inhale escaped her lips.
She clenched her fists, her voice dripping with frustration. "No… this can't be happening," she muttered, barely able to contain her rising fury.
Her gaze snapped back to Mismagius, and before she knew it, the words came out in a venomous burst. "Get up, Mismagius!" she shouted, her voice cracking with a harsh edge. "What are you doéng, lyéng zéré like zat?! You're embarrasseng yurself!"
Mismagius struggled to lift itself, its eyes filled with pain as it wavered in the air. But Fantina's anger only grew. She pointed a trembling finger at her Pokémon. "I trained you bettair than zis! Don't just sit zere and losé us points! Move, now!"
The crowd shifted uncomfortably, murmurs spreading through the audience. Even the judges exchanged glances of unease at Fantina's harsh outburst.
Lloyd's eyes widened as he watched Fantina's outburst. His grip tightened on his Poké Ball, the tension from the stage palpable.
Mismagius, trembling from the blow and from its trainer's rage, floated unsteadily but managed to rise back into the air. Its eyes glowed faintly, but now, something more than just exhaustion lingered there—a deep, painful determination. It refused to fail.
Fantina's sharp gaze softened for only a fraction of a second as Mismagius pulled itself together, but then her fierce focus returned. "Now, no mairé meestakés!" Her voice had lost its earlier anger, but the command was still rigid, cold. "Mismagius, Psywave! Haunter, Sucker Punch!"
The battle continued with no room for hesitation. Fantina, fully composed now, gave precise and calculated orders. Her Mismagius moved swiftly through the air, executing each command with sharp precision. Haunter joined in, its Shadow Claw slicing through Lloyd's defenses, while Night Shade created eerie projections that disoriented Jynx.
Lloyd, clearly shaken by the earlier turn of events, fought valiantly to keep up. "Jynx, dodge and counter with Ice Beam! Rapidash, Flamethrower!" He tried to focus, but Fantina's flawless execution left him scrambling to keep control of the battle.
As the seconds ticked away, the audience watched in awe as Fantina and her Pokémon regained their footing, their graceful movements cutting through Lloyd's defenses. Her Pokémon danced in unison, Mismagius sending waves of psychic energy, while Haunter's ghostly attacks kept Lloyd's Rapidash and Jynx on edge.
The buzzer sounded, marking the end of the battle. A tense silence fell as both coordinators turned toward the scoreboard. Lloyd's face paled as the final points displayed—Fantina had won by a mere 30 points.
The judges smiled and nodded in approval, impressed by Fantina's comeback. Stephanie Schofield leaned toward her microphone, her voice echoing through the stadium. "And with that final surge of elegance and power, Fantina takes the victory! What a stunning performance!"
Lloyd took a deep breath as he walked up to Fantina, trying to steady his nerves. He extended his hand toward her, offering a shaky smile. "W-wow, I may have lost, but that was a good match, ma'am. You're really talented."
He stood there, his arm outstretched, but Fantina didn't even look at him. She simply turned, her cape swirling as she began to walk away. "Come on, Mismagius. Haunter," she called, her voice cold and devoid of emotion.
Lloyd's hand faltered in the air, his expression sinking as he lowered his arm, watching her retreat.
Fantina's two ghostly Pokémon floated beside her in silence. Her eyes narrowed in frustration as she glanced over at them. "Yur pairfairmancés," she muttered, her tone biting, " zey were disappointeng.."
Mismagius let out a soft, low murmur. "May..." it whispered, its ethereal form sagging slightly. Haunter, normally brimming with mischievous energy, simply dropped his head, the playful gleam in his eyes dulled by the reprimand.
The crowd's cheers faded behind them as Fantina exited the stage, her steps rigid, her frustration heavy in the air. Her victory felt hollow, overshadowed by the weight of her anger.
Amelia strode confidently onto the stage, her heels clicking against the polished floor as the audience buzzed with excitement. She raised her microphone, her voice clear and full of energy.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" she announced, her tone electric. "The final round of the contest will begin in exactly one hour!"
The screen behind her lit up, and the two final names appeared in bold letters: Dawn versus Fantina.
"This is the match you've all been waiting for! The winner of this final battle will take home the coveted ribbon!"
From opposite sides of the audience, Dawn and Fantina locked eyes. The tension between them was palpable, like a silent storm brewing. Fantina's gaze burned with unfiltered hatred, her eyes narrowing into a venomous glare that pierced through the room.
Dawn swallowed hard, her confidence wavering under the weight of Fantina's glare. A single drop of sweat slid down her brow, the pressure of the moment pressing down on her shoulders. She wiped it away quickly but couldn't shake the unease bubbling in her chest.
The crowd erupted into chatter as both coordinators prepared themselves mentally for what was to come. This wasn't just another contest—it was personal.
In the locker room, the walls were lined with scuffed lockers, some slightly ajar with clutter spilling out. The room had barely enough space for a single bench along one side, with a few faded posters of past contests and gym battles decorating the walls.
A large mirror stretched across one wall, its glass slightly smudged, reflecting the nervousness etched into Dawn's face.
She stood in front of the mirror, her reflection framed by the harsh overhead light. The edges of her dress were slightly wrinkled from her earlier encounters, and a stray lock of hair had fallen out of place.
It was the first time she had really looked at her reflection since back that fateful night in Eterna. Dawn couldn't remember the last time she had stared at her own image and recognized who was looking back at her. The familiar, comforting face from her hometown seemed almost foreign now.
"Alright, Dawn," she muttered to herself, her voice trembling slightly. "If you don't win this, you're gonna have to wait months for another Gym Leader to replace Fantina. If I lose this, then I can kiss the Relic Badge goodbye... and Barry will be even more ahead of me."
The room seemed to grow quieter, her reflection growing even more uncertain as she struggled to maintain her focus. Just then, the door to the locker room creaked open slowly. She straightened up, her heart racing as she turned her head toward the sound, trying to steady her breath.
Fantina stepped inside. Her presence filled the small space with an unsettling intensity. Her eyes, sharp and focused, were locked onto Dawn with a predatory gaze.
Dawn's face twisted into a grimace at the sight of Fantina, and she deliberately turned her gaze away, trying to avoid the confrontation. Fantina took a few deliberate steps closer, the swish of her costume echoing softly against the locker room's walls.
"Our match," Fantina said, her voice smooth but carrying an edge, "eet eez een abut fifteen minutes now."
Dawn kept her eyes fixed on the ground, her voice tight with frustration. "What do you want?"
Fantina paused for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly as she assessed Dawn. "I went to know," she continued, her tone shifting to a more probing, almost accusatory note, "why isn't Johanna hairé? She should be haire to suppairt you, shouldn't she?"
Dawn's eyes, once fixed on the ground, finally met Fantina's gaze with a determined glint. "Don't concern yourself with worrying about her," she said, her voice edged with frustration. "All my life, all I've ever done is worry about her. I'm done doing that now."
Her expression hardened as she continued, "You know, during that first match of yours, I was actually quite scared to face you... but in that match against that Rapidash guy," she smiled, "you're slipping. I don't know why, but that poker face of yours is diminishing, and you know it."
Fantina's eyes narrowed slightly, a flash of irritation crossing her face before she composed herself. She let out a soft, almost mocking laugh, her voice laced with scorn. "Really, my poker facé eez diminishing? That's rich, coméng from a child who was névair meent to come into zis whirld."
"Call me whatever you want, Fantina. It doesn't matter," Dawn stood up, her posture defiant, and a smirk played on her lips. "What did you call me before? A devil's spawn? I like that. It'll be the spawn of the woman you hate the most that defeats you!"
Fantina's eyes flashed with a mixture of irritation and intrigue, but Dawn didn't falter. "Just keep your word. When I win, that badge is mine, right?"
The challenge in Dawn's voice was unmistakable. Fantina's serene expression wavered for a moment before she managed a tight-lipped smile. "We'll see, child. We'll see."
With that, Fantina turned on her heel and walked towards the door, and lingered on the door handle as she prepared to leave, a suspenseful pause stretching between them. She glanced back at Dawn, her eyes narrowing slightly. "You know," she said, her voice lowering, "I'm feeleng a bit nostalgic. Facéng ze daughter of my fairmair rival."
Dawn's brow furrowed, but she kept her tone steady. "I thought I told you—I'm nothing like my mother."
"Oh, believe me, I know. Despite our animosity, Johanna and I shared an underlying respect for each other," Fantina's lips curved into a knowing smile. "When I look at you, I feel nothing of that. You're a stark contrast."
"Gee, hadn't notice," Dawn's expression hardened, her voice tinged with sarcasm.
"Johanna and I, we faced éach othair coun-tellz timés een our youth," Fantina's voice took on a nostalgic and bitter tone as she began to speak, her gaze distant as she reminisced. "Wé compétéd een many contests, and our skills were so evén-lee matched. Some contests I won, othairs shé did. We waire equals, both striveng for the same goal."
Her expression hardened as she continued, "Ovair ze years, we both struggléd to airn enough badges to compéte een la Grand Festival. Ze rivalry zat defined us carried on until zat fateful moment when wé both 'éld four ribbons. Just one more would secure our place een ze Grand Festival. Our rivalry was set to culminate een zat final Bat-tell Round."
Fantina's voice grew more bitter, a sharp edge to her words. "I remembair ze enticipashe-on, waiteng fair Johanna to take ze stage for zat décisivé match. But she nevair arrived. Instead, I was declared the winnair by default. Ze victory, 'ullow as eet was, brought mé no joy."
Her eyes met Dawn's, a mix of resentment and sorrow reflected in them. "When I final-lee found Johanna, shé was een le restruhm, her 'ands trémbleng as she clutched a positive pregnancy test. She was 'aveng a panic attak, overwhelmed by the realization of her situashe-on. Zhat moment, zat image—"
Fantina's voice broke, her words laced with the weight of the past. "I may 'ave won zat ribbon, but eet was tainted. I felt a deep sensé of shame, knowéng zat my victairy was not airned een true competishe-on. Coordination, which 'ad once been my passion, lost its meaneng fair me. And so, I rénouncéd it."
Dawn's eyes wavered as Fantina's words sank in, the weight of the past pressing down on her. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "I'm sorry for what happened to you." She met Fantina's gaze, her own eyes firm despite the tremor of uncertainty. "But you should know, I'm not the same as my mother. Beating me won't change what happened back then. Not that I'd let you beat me."
Fantina's smile widened, her eyes narrowing with both malice and anticipation. "I know, deféaténg you won't change ze past," she said, her voice dripping with venom. "But eet weehl définite-lee 'elp me blow off zum steam, crusheng you in front of everyone."
"Fine, if that's how you feel," Dawn's expression hardened in response. "Just get lost so I can finish preparing."
As Fantina made her way toward the door, her smirk never faltering, she tossed a final taunt over her shoulder. "I on-lee wish your mother were haire to see this. But of course, zat won't 'appen."
Dawn's fingers trembled as she turned to face her reflection, pulling out a compact and applying a stroke of eyeshadow. Her motions were mechanical, almost absentminded, as she tried to focus on something other than the confrontation.
"And zis momont 'it 'ard," Fantina said, her voice taking on a chilling edge. "You know, ze first théng she did when grappléng wiv ze pregnancy? Shé triéd to drink nail polish remover."
Dawn's eyes widened in shock, her hand freezing mid-application. The eyeshadow applicator slipped from her fingers, clattering to the floor as she stared at Fantina, her face pale.
Fantina's voice was laced with dark satisfaction as she added, "It's a shame eet failed."
Dawn stood motionless, her heart racing, unable to fully process the cruel words she had just heard. The world felt distant, and the weight of Fantina's words hung heavy on her shoulders as she stared blankly at her reflection, struggling to reconcile the image in the mirror with the harsh reality she was faced with
Yeah, I don't have any words for this author's note, we're going deeper with the angst guys. Though I do promise, that after this arc concludes I plan for the following arc to be a lot lighter in tone.
Anyways, surprise, I'm actually going to be uploading the second chapter to this right away, since, well, screw it. So, if you like this chapter and want to find out what happens next, you know what to do.
—Yonas813, out.
