Me: I'm just going to keep the plot simple. Very simple.

Also me: Writes this chapter.

Soooo, this chapter is long and much of it is plot layering, but I literally cannot help it. But I really am trying to keep things relatively simple. Next arc, motivations will be fleshed out, and you'll see that really we just have a lot of characters wanting a lot of different things, but using one thing—or man—to get them.

But anyway, I just felt like I had add a little depth, and set the board for the next arc. Ash's reasons for getting gym badges will run a little deeper this time than just "hoping to challenge the League." I found it a little appropriate seeing as his duties are maturing with his title. Furthermore, I literally struggle to half-a** anything, and so even the B-scenes I feel like need to have at least some quality, even if people skip over them (which I will totally not be offended if you do! Seriously, I'm writing this for me as much for you all ;)). BUT I need to know that I at least did my best in adding development to the plot and the surrounding characters.

Okay, some quick housekeeping:

I got a good question about Bonnie and I actually meant to change/clarify this a while ago. When I was doing some research, I actually saw that Kalos trainers don't get their trainer's license until they are 13. And so, Bonnie is 12 going on 13, having been 8 when she, Clemond, Ash, and Serena first traveled Kalos around five years ago (in this AU.)

Geeta's character has gone through a little makeover. Honestly, I feel like I introduced her a little early in the story before really knowing what I wanted to do with her, but now I know and so I went back a few times (even amending her back in February), and altered her interactions a bit. Her dialogue remains the same, just action beats and characterization to make her more cool, pragmatic, and a bit eccentric have been added. This also does keep more in line with her character in the games. Anyway, if you want to reread to see for yourself, the amended parts are at the beginning of Chapter 8 and her interactions at the Showcase in Chapter 9. She isn't actually in this chapter, but she will be mentioned and featured in the next arc pretty heavily.

Next chapter and final chapter of Part I will actually be Tuesday(4/16) or Wednesday (4/17)—maybe even sooner. All of the scenes are already mapped out. Don't want you guys to have to wait too long for the grand finale.

Chapter 16: Masques

Thursday - 48 hours before

Everything around him was swathed in shadows, a thick blanket of blackness that seemed to press in from all sides. For a moment, it was as if he was suspended in a dense fog, where shapes and forms melted into one another, leaving him disoriented. Gradually, however, Ash Ketchum began to hear voices…

"He's waking up,"

Goh?

"It's about time…"

Brock?

With enormous effort that was like swimming through honey, Ash slowly pried open his eyelids. At first, everything was a blur; shapes and colors bleeding into each other before gradually sharpening into actual objects. Goh, Brock, and Pikachu were sitting beside him, their faces etched with concern and relief, a sight that sent a flicker of warmth in the chill of his confusion.

As his gaze wandered, trying to piece together his situation, Ash's attention was drawn to a peculiar sensation in his arm. Looking down, he noticed the IV line inserted into his skin, its tube trailing off to a bag of fluids suspended by his bedside. The sight of it, stark against the soft hues of the room, brought a surge of questions to his mind, each one echoing louder than the last.

Taking in more of his surroundings, Ash's confusion began to clear, replaced by a growing understanding of where he was. The sterile white walls, the faint antiseptic aroma in the air, the unmistakable layout—He was in the school infirmary.

"What happened?" Ash sniffed, his nose scrunching at the blend of sterile cleanliness and something vaguely medicinal he couldn't quite place. His hand found its way to Pikachu's ears and he smiled at his best buddy, who looked more than a little relieved to see his trainer awake.

"Um," Brock exchanged a look with Goh before answering, "you're supposed to tell us that. Goh has been no help."

Goh defensively jumped in. "I told you! We were all like, 'Whoa, watch out—cave-in!' and Ash was like 'Aura Z-move powers activate!'" His hands animatedly mimicked the chaos of the situation they had found themselves in.

Brock responded with a deadpan, then pointed a thumb towards Goh. "See what I mean?"

"Pika-chu," Pikachu chirped, curling up against Ash's arm, happy to see his trainer okay.

Ash blinked and began to sit up, which helped clear some of the fog from his brain. "I remember following Brutus into that cave...the Tera Pokémon...it was super powerful," he mumbled, each memory surfacing like a snapshot.

"Yeah," Brock, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, nodded in confirmation. "Dendra's not too pleased…"

"What did she—,"

Just then, Miriam, with her vibrant, pink and purple hair styled in soft waves and tied back with a matching bow, gently pulled back the curtain that had offered Ash privacy within the relatively quiet infirmary. Her green eyes, filled with professional concern, assessed Ash as she approached, a stethoscope at her throat.

"Oh, you're awake. Good!" she said with a kind smile that carried the reassurance of a seasoned healer. "I'll remove the IV once it's finished. You were severely dehydrated," she explained, while her tone suggesting the matter was well in hand. "You've had people asking for you. I will let them know about your progress."

At Miriam's arrival, Brock straightened up. His expression turned utterly serious. "Well, I guess it's true what they say," he began, lowering his head as though his body were preparing for some kind of eruption, "an apple a day might keep the doctor away…"

"Oh no, here it comes," Goh clutched Grookey, the two already sweating.

And then Brock exploded. "But a nurse as beautiful as you would convince anyone to stay!"

The Pokédoctor couldn't help but seize the opportunity and drop to one knee before the nurse. He took her hand in his, holding it as though it were the most delicate treasure. Somehow, a soft, melodious tune began on cue to drift through the air, a romantic serenade emerging from nowhere.

Ash, Goh, Pikachu, and Grookey all groaned and covered their faces with their hands (or paws), peeking through their fingers.

"Oh dear Miriam, gentle healer of both body and soul," Brock brought a hand to his heart and cleared his throat, launching into his monologue with all the rich emotion of a poet under the moonlight, "your mere presence has rejuvenated my spirits more than the most potent Potion. When you entered the room, it was as if a Chansey had used Healing Pulse on my heart. Your laughter, a melody sweeter than a Kricketune's serenade, has enraptured my very being. If only I could be the Sudowoodo to your Leavanny, providing steadfast support and care."

It was at this moment that Goh looked at Ash and lipped Sudowoodo what? to which Ash just bared his teeth in a display of supreme discomfort.

"Let me be the Magikarp that leaps over the mountain's peak for you…"

"Oh, he's still going…" Ash murmured

"…evolving into the mighty Gyarados of your dreams, soaring through the skies on a Drifblim of love!" Brock's proclamation grew more impassioned, his hands clutching Miriam's more tightly. "What do you say?"

Grookey wrung his stick anxiously; Pikachu's ears flattened back. Ash and Goh wanted to disappear.

At last, like a breath of relief, Croagunk emerged from his Pokéball, poised to intervene and save Brock from himself. The Pokémon's toxic fingers readied to grab his trainer's ear when…

"You know, you could just ask me to the Homecoming. Teachers are allowed to go too," Miriam, seemingly unphased, gave a playful wink at the gallant doctor kneeling before her. "But we have to chaperone."

Brock suddenly found himself without a next move. His brain short-circuited, his ability to respond blown like a fuse in the dazzling surprise of Miriam's reply. Stiffening, he might as well have been turned to stone—gray, frozen mid-gesture, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape in a silent 'o' of shock.

Croagunk promptly returned to his Pokéball.

Ash, sensing that Brock was not going to be able to recover, decided to step in, "Uh…thanks, Miriam…" he managed, trying to smooth over the awkward silence that had fallen over the room.

Miriam winked again and turned and left Brock kneeling there. Still frozen.

"Should we do something?" Goh muttered, tapping Brock's head without eliciting much of a response.

Before Ash could respond, the infirmary doors swung open again. Aliquis and Nemona, with an air of concern and urgency, walked swiftly toward Ash's bunk. Meowscarada, sleek and lithe, followed behind, her curious eyes taking in the scene, while Pawmo ambled in, her own paws making soft thumps on the tiled floor. In Nemona's hands was a vibrant bouquet of flowers she'd clearly picked from the front lawn in haste.

"Ash! You're okay! Gracías a Arceus…" Nemona breathed out a sigh of relief, shaking her head as she tossed the flowers onto Ash's bed. "But what were you and Goh thinking? Dendra was beside herself…" She trailed off as her eyes landed on Brock, still caught in his statuesque state of shock.

"What's wrong with him?" Nemona asked, waving a hand in front of Brock's unmoving form with a hum.

With a dismissive wave of his hand, Aliquis downplayed Nemona's concern. "Dendra's fine. She's more mad at Brutus, honestly. Goh told her you all were just trying to go after him. Brutus didn't even defend himself, which was weird," he explained, seeming more interested by the Galarian's behavior than concerned.

Goh shrugged, "He knew it was going to be two against one if he tried to give a different story."

"Ese chico is about to be suspended," Nemona interjected, her frown deepening at the thought.

Suddenly, Brock snapped back to life. He stood abruptly, his face a fiery shade of crimson as all semblance of thought returned to him. "So wait. What happened to the Pokémon you all fought? And Ash, seriously—what happened to you?"

Still a bit bewildered himself, Ash shook his head and looked over at Goh, who didn't hesitate to dive into the tale. "I already told you. Ash used a Z-move without a Z-ring! It was totally awesome! He was all like, '10,000,000 Volts!' and Pikachu went all 'Pikaaaaa!'"

Everyone sweatdropped.

However, Ash eventually confirmed Goh's description with a nod, sheepishly scratching the back of his head. "Well, Goh's right actually. That is kind of what happened. I don't know. I can't explain it. I just felt—" He paused, his words trailing off as he was suddenly swept back to that critical moment before the cave-in.

Visions of the cave's imminent collapse flashed through his mind, the weight of responsibility for his friends' lives heavy on his shoulders. The sense of urgency had been palpable, suffocating—a desperate need to act, to save them, to save himself. Ash remembered the surge of emotions that had coursed through him, thoughts of Serena and a fierce, almost primal instinct that willed all the energy within him, every shred of willpower, to funnel into Pikachu, triggering the attack.

Snapping back to the present, Ash noticed everyone in the infirmary was waiting for him to finish. "I…I don't know. Pikachu and I were just able to bond for a moment as if I'd had the Z-ring," he attempted to clarify, still struggling to wrap his head around it all.

At his words, Nemona couldn't contain her excitement as she pitched into a squeal. "Well, that is incredible! You have to teach me! I want to learn."

"He can't teach you," Goh announced firmly, his hands a bit petulantly on his hips, "Ash has Aura. It's like his thing. That's what allows him to bond with Pokémon without, like, mega stones and I guess other aura channeling items."

Taken aback by the revelation, Aliquis and Nemona blinked in unison.

"So wait," Aliquis, his blue brows furrowed in thought, scratched his chin and let his jaw hang a little agape as he processed all this,"you're telling us that Ash has superpowers? Like a superhero?"

"Pretty much!" Goh gave Ash a hearty smack on the back, and a smug grin conveyed his firm belief in his best friend's unique abilities.

After a brief pause, during which Aliquis seemed to weigh the reality of such a claim, the blue-haired trainer was suddenly animated by the idea. He clenched his fists excitedly in front of his face and stars formed in his eyes. "This is totally awesome! You're like…the next Lucius!" He pumped his arms up and down.

Riding the wave of excitement, Goh began jumping back and forth like a cheerleader, "He is, isn't he!? And I mean, he's pretty much met like every legendary Pokémon so…"

As the two boys gushed over Ash's extraordinary feats—much to the latter's discomfort—the infirmary doors opened once again, and Arven and Clavell stepped inside. Arven seemed restless, shifting his weight from one foot to another, his eyes darting around as if looking for an escape route. Clavell, in stark contrast, was the epitome of calm, his composed demeanor as unflappable as always. His orange suit was the only vibrant color in the otherwise muted surroundings—he looked immaculate and sharp.

"Ah," Clavell began, a small smile gracing his lips as he regarded Ash. "I am relieved to see you conscious once again, monarch. Dendra will be much relieved."

Ash's face lit up with a flicker of hope. "So she's not mad?!" he ventured.

With a hint of sympathetic humor, Clavell simply stated, "She is incensed."

In a perfectly choreographed reaction, everyone collectively fell over.

"As she should be," Clavell started, gracefully taking a seat next to Ash's bed, his movements deliberate and serene. "Whenever a teacher takes their students out of the classroom, the class's safety is their responsibility. And so, she is just as disappointed with herself for not being there to help."

Appearing reflective, Ash shook his head gently. "She doesn't need to be that hard on herself. I should have tried harder to get her attention before going off."

Clavell's response was measured, his lips forming a thin line of disapproval—not at Ash, but at the situation. "It was impossible to know what you would encounter."

"What did we encounter exactly?" Ash, seeking answers, exchanged a quick glance with Pikachu, who mirrored his trainer's confusion and curiosity.

Standing a bit apart, Arven fidgeted uncomfortably under the weight of the conversation. His gaze darted towards Aliquis, who seemed to be trying to hide in the shadows in order to hear more. Clavell, unaware of the ace trainer's presence, remained unfazed by the tension in the room and continued in his calm manner, "A Paradox Pokémon."

Ash's stare widened in disbelief at this. "Wait, how do we know?" he asked, turning to Goh in search of answers. "Did you catch it?"

Growing serious, Goh nodded. "I gave the Pokémon to Clavell and Jaqu," he admitted with a hint of resignation. He lifted his shoulders slightly. "It really should be yours anyway, but I told Dendra that I'd caught it, and Jaqu did a scan of the Pokéball. I told them the Pokémon didn't even show up on the Pokédex, and, well…" he trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid.

"It was confirmed to be a Paradox Pokémon." Clavell finished succinctly, "Arven was the one to identify it for us, actually."

The botanist added with a look of disappointment contorting his features, "Slither Wings. It is said to share traits with Volcarona. My father discovered it…I-I think it was first revived from a fossil from a prehistoric era but there's no proof of that. It's just something he told me once." He sighed, pushing his dirty blond bangs away from his eyes rather ineffectually.

"And so," Clavell continued, absorbing Arven's input with an air of satisfaction, "Jaqu and I will keep the Pokémon at our lab for safekeeping. It seems as though Area Zero is losing the capability of containing these anomalies…we know there might be more of them." His declaration painted a broader picture of the challenges they faced, extending beyond a single escaped Pokémon.

"Wait," Brock stepped forward with a thoughtful expression, "you mean there are more Paradox Pokémon than the ones we know about? And you think they could be roaming around Paldea? Like right now?"

The school director nodded. "Paradox Pokémon have always been spotted deep in the Crater since the time of Heath. They've always been a potential threat to explorers, so I am not surprised by the existence of more. What does surprise, me," Clavell amended, pushing up his spectacles, "is that they are managing to leave the Crater."

"And that there are so many," Arven felt inclined to add, wringing his hands while his forehead glistening with sweat "I mean, they are normally so rare, recorded sightings were usually years apart. Having three sighted together in a span of weeks is unheard of."

Ash seized on Arven's information. "But where has this all been recorded?" he asked, his brows furrowed in concentration.

"In the journals and research notes we have from Heath. And the pages we've acquired from Turo's diary are very telling," Clavell informed, clasping his hands behind his back, "Of course, we've yet to find the actual diary, so it is difficult to know what is certain and what is taken out of context."

Arven twitched and he looked away. Ash noted his reaction but stayed quiet.

Leaning forward with keen interest, Brock raised the pivotal question. "Well, is there any way to track down the Paradox Pokémon if there are more?"

Clavell paused in contemplation, his fingers tracing the outline of his pointed beard. "Not exactly. Coming across Slither Wings seems to have been more accidental than anything." However, he recounted Dendra's experience: how her Tera Energy reader had signaled the presence of a potent Tera Pokémon, a revelation that had been intended for further discussion before unforeseen events took precedence.

The room collectively nodded, recognizing the complexity and unpredictability of the situation.

"We do not yet have a working theory that connects these Paradox Pokémon to the Tera energy," Clavell admitted, sighing while he played rather absently with a cufflink on his sleeve.

At this point, Aliquis couldn't contain his reaction to the bewildering turn of events. "This is all pretty crazy, huh?" His offhand remark drew surprised looks from the others, a momentary reminder of his presence. Feeling the weight of their gazes, he quickly tried to deflect, "Oh, uh, just forget I'm here…" He chuckled uneasily, waving his hands as though that would make him apparate.

Meanwhile, Ash wrestled with a growing sense of suspicion; his thoughts swirling with questions about Arven, the secrets surrounding Tera Industries, and the sketchiness of Turo. What was everyone hiding? What was Turo even after? And finally: How was Turo's disappearance connected to everything? Each unanswered question added another wave of confusion in Ash's brain.

"Aliquis," Clavell, looking suddenly unnerved, inhaled deeply through his nostrils as though restraining himself, "I hope you know that nothing leaves this room, you are officially, being watched.

Aliquis winced apologetically and scratched the side of his face with a shaky breath.

Clavell then shifted his attention to the room at large. "Now, if you all do not mind, I would like to speak to Ash. Alone." His request, though politely phrased, left no room for argument.

Sensing the gravity of Clavell's tone, the others exchanged quick, uncertain glances before submitting to the director's request. One by one, they quietly filed out of the infirmary alongside their Pokémon, leaving Ash and Clavell in a bubble of anticipated privacy.

Once they were alone, Clavell pulled the curtain around them and took a moment to study Ash, peering at the champion over the rims of his spectacles with an intensity that felt almost invasive. "I think it's best we have this next conversation in private," he stated.

Though confused, Ash nodded, but not without some doubt coloring his features. "What conversation?" he asked, turning to Pikachu for any sign of understanding, only to be met with a shrug from his companion.

With a deliberate motion, Clavell seated himself beside Ash's bed, crossed his legs, and placed his folded hands atop his knees. "The one in which I tell you about my fears, Ash Ketchum. Unfortunately, I have many," he revealed.

Ash blinked, taken aback. "Wait, what are you afraid about? We caught the Pokémon and—," he began, only to be interrupted by Clavell's raised hand.

"It has nothing to do with Slither Wings. Well, not entirely, anyway," Clavell clarified, pausing to remove his glasses and meticulously wipe the lenses with a cloth. He examined them for clarity before placing them back on, his gaze now clear and focused on Ash. "I have learned recently that you will be attending the gala. Is this true?"

Ask took a moment to process the question, caught off guard by the sudden shift in topic. The connection between the gala and Clavell's fears was not immediately clear to him. "Yeah. I was invited. Why?"

Clavell nodded. "I have not been forthcoming with all of the information I have given to you and your friends." The director let out a heavy sigh, "I may know more of why Turo has disappeared. I may know how more Paradox Pokémon are entering our dimension."

Ash clenched his jaw tightly, but said nothing. Instead he picked at his IV a moment before looking back at the director.

Clavell hesitated, visibly grappling with the weight of his next words. He ran a hand through his graying hair. "I believe…" he paused, "I believe Turo has managed to build a time machine."

Slowly, the academy director extracted a folded sheet from his pocket and handed it to Ash. The paper, its edges frayed and its surface yellowed with age, unfolded to reveal a sketch that captured an incredible complex device. It appeared to be designed with a platform at the base while four stout pillars anchored the structure, rising to support a central unit—a hub of potential that seemed to be designed to hold whatever type of energy it was supposed to produce.

Ash and Pikachu leaned in to inspect the sketch, their eyes expanding. "A time machine?" Ash echoed in wonder and disbelief. He scrutinized the image more intently, tracing the lines and shapes of the intricate machine, trying to comprehend its design and function.

Lifting his gaze to meet Clavell's, Ash had to ask. "Wait…where did you get this?"

Clavell offered a small, nostalgic smile. "I used to work with Turo in Area Zero," he shared with a mixture of fondness and regret. "He led a very large research team nearly twenty years ago now. Our primary focus of study was the Tera Energy and the Tera Crystals. Now, my memory is not what it used to be, but I recently was inspired to secure boxes of my old notes I took during the time I worked under Turo. My copies, pictures, notes—or scribbles, I should call them—were interesting to review. I had almost forgotten how inspiring Turo could be. How charismatic. How his passions could quickly become one's own."

Ash listened, a knot of unease forming in his stomach as he absorbed the implications of Clavell's words.

"Now. Working in the Crater was anything but easy… As Arven said, Paradox Pokémon have been appearing there ever since the time of Heath, but just as mysteriously as they appeared, they vanish. And while such sightings were very rare, they were always frightening, and the Pokémon were not always docile," Clavell's eyes flashed, but he continued, "However, besides having a passion for science, Turo also had a passion for lore and history. After encountering a few of these enigmas over the years, Turo began to develop a fascination with the idea of Pokémon from other ages. He spoke vaguely about wanting to potentially control the way they entered our dimension, fixating on the 'mist' from which they came. Of course, many of us thought his musings were fascinating at the time, but also a bit of nonsense. He had always been a visionary with many dreams, and what young scientist does not love to romanticize grand discoveries?"

Clavell stopped, a wrinkle forming across his brow as he seemed to grapple with the weight of his memories. "However, it seems as though Turo's obsession truly did grow. It was such a subtle increase that I hardly noticed it at first." His gaze drifted, lost in the recollection. "I was enchanted with the man, quite honestly—we all were. He was brilliant, determined, impassioned. And we were on the precipice of research. The explorers of a new world," he said, his eyes reflecting a gleam that only those who have stood at the edge of discovery would recognize. "That is why I did not blink when Turo drew up the prototype you now have in your hands."

Ash and Pikachu glanced down at the diagram once again, both of them feeling the gravity of Clavell's reminiscence.

"I don't even know how this ended up in my hands," Clavell grew more thoughtful, "but I had been in charge of making copies and filing our research. Therefore, when I first made this copy to organize in our archives, I must have found it interesting enough to make a copy for myself," Clavell chuckled, as though at his own foresight.

"At first, I believed the blueprint was for nothing more than some type of containment system for the distorted energy our team had hypothesized to be responsible for creating rifts in the time-space continuum, through which the Paradox Pokémon would appear." Clavell paused, his gaze intensifying. "However, reviewing it now with new eyes…I do not think it is a containment system at all. Nothing about its design suggests it can contain anything…"

Ash squinted. He had no idea what the symbols or the diagram really depicted, but he did know that the machine gave him a bad feeling. A really bad feeling. "It's for creating something, isn't it?" Ash shifted in his bed, noting how the sheets suddenly felt itchy.

Clavell gave a slow, almost reluctant nod. "A portal through time, is my guess. But how? How does it work? I don't know. I cannot even say that if Turo did manage to build such a machine, that it would resemble anything like this."

With a sense of urgency creeping into his tone, Ash sought the reason behind Clavell's sudden openness. "Why are you telling me all of this?" he asked, the question hanging between them, wondering about the director's motives and what everything meant.

"Because," Clavell leaned in, the reflection in his glasses obscuring his eyes for a moment, "you are the monarch. Because you are a champion and Paldea needs your help," he stated firmly. "I don't know why the Council of Champions has not found a reason to come and open up their own investigations, but I fear what Turo has created, and in whose hands this machine now exists." The light glinted off his spectacles as he sat back, the pieces of a larger puzzle slowly coming into alignment.

"At the gala, we must see if we can learn anything about what Turo was doing with Navarro. As you know, he was fired from the Academy two years ago, before I became the director. But even long before then, Turo had lost his wife in some tragedy—a mysterious tragedy—and that was the impetus for his mental decline, I'm sure of it." Clavell's hands opened, as if to show the breadth and depth of Turo's transformation. "He threw himself into his work, grew obsessive, never attended any of the classes he was required to teach, and supposedly misused research grants, claiming he was working on one thing when really…" Clavell trailed off, his hands falling to his sides in resignation, the enigma of Turo's actions hanging in the air.

"But what about Geeta?" Ash interrupted, handing Turo's sketch back to the director. "Shouldn't the region's champion also be, well, helping?"

Clavell took the copy and shook his head slightly. "She is helping, in her own way. But La Primera has many other worries...It is hard to know her priorities," He sighed. "She concerns herself mostly with the power dynamics among Paldea's Elite in order to ensure the survival of institutions such as Scarlet and Violet Academy, as well as the League. She does not want any diplomat corrupting such foundations. She believes education to be necessary for a region's stability and survival." He looked away for a moment, contemplative. "All of Paldea's major academies are funded by Paldea's government. Therefore, the health of the government correlates to the health of the Academy and the academic freedom Geeta so upholds." With a wave of his hand, Clavell brushed aside the tangent. "But I digress… I respect our chairwoman immensely and agree with her principles, but I fear she is…distracted...I have not yet told her my theory about the machine."

Taking in Clavell's concerns, Ash offered a proactive approach. "Maybe I can talk to her. At the gala, I mean. I've been wanting to meet her anyway." He looked at Pikachu and the two shared a determined nod.

Clavell regarded the two with a tilt of his head, offering a hesitant nod. "It would be good for you two to be acquainted," he conceded, though he felt a strange reluctance about Ash's proposal. "But do not mention the machine just yet, and certainly not at such a public event. I will inform her of my findings as soon as possible. However, perhaps you can simply offer her your encouragement and support—say you are willing to help her with anything to protect Paldea, if that is the case?"

The director peered at Ash as though waiting for a commitment.

Ash gave a wide, unhindered grin. "I'll help for sure."

Clavell visibly relaxed, suddenly aging exponentially.

"So," Ash's eyes fell back on Turo's sketch as he gestured towards the paper, "what are you going to do with that? Are you going to show Arven?"

Clavell's reaction was immediate; the lines at the corner of his eyes tightened, a visible wince crossing his features. "No. Arven should not get involved," he stated decisively. The director's voice held a tinge of protectiveness as he continued, "It is not that I do not trust him. The boy has been through much since the passing of his mother. His father was absent, and he raised himself from what I understand." Clavell tucked away the blueprint of the machine with a solemn air. "Truthfully, I am at a loss as to what to do with this information. The diagram is too sensitive to have our own research teams decipher it. And quite frankly, some of this machinery and science seems beyond us."

Clavell's gaze wandered to the monitors and medical equipment surrounding them, looking a bit burdened, "Most of Paldea's greatest technological minds either work for Tera Industries, Paldea Tech, or they can not be trusted. I cannot have anyone suspecting that I know of Turo's whereabouts or motives, as I am sure powerful men are looking for him. And most importantly, I do not want to inspire anyone to create a similar machine. If a time machine exists, we are in serious danger."

His mind working quickly, Ash tapped his chin in thought. "What if I knew someone? Someone insanely smart and trustworthy. He's, well, he's an inventor, of sorts…"

Clavell regarded Ash with a cautious hope. "If you trust him, then I would be inclined to listen to whatever you are about to propose," he conceded, curious.

Ash nodded, a confident smile spreading across his face as he looked at Pikachu, who mirrored his excitement with a spark of electricity. "Okay," Ash began, "Hear me out…"

30 hours before

Inside the Mesagoza Theater, Performers and their Pokémon were deep in rehearsal for the night's showcase. The stage flitted and came alive as each duo—Trainer and Pokémon alike—moved in sync, their steps measured and rhythmic, while simultaneously engaging in the careful preparation of various dishes for the Theme Round. The clash of pots and pans provided an unusual percussion to the melody of their dance.

Serena and her Sylveon moved around with practiced eyes and graceful steps, making a few remarks here and there towards the performers striving to perfect their intricate choreography. While the Kalos Queen was able to offer a few pointers towards the dishes, she felt a tangible sense of relief wash over her face when Arven entered the theater, his Mabosstiff at his heels. Serena's eyes brightened at the sight of him, and she offered a small, appreciative smile.

A few moments after Arven entered, Aliquis popped through the theater doors, his head moving this way and that before proceeding confidently through the threshold with his Meowscarada. Serena's eyebrows lifted in mild surprise, her attention momentarily divided between the performers and the new arrivals. Aliquis, for his part, seemed thrilled to be there, and he walked down the aisle with an almost comical march to his step.

"Hey, guys!" Serena waved and gracefully hopped down from the stage. Her approach was light and quick, her feet barely making a sound on the theater floor as she ran up to greet the two. "Arven! You're just in time. Some of the girls are asking for you."

"This is what you've been blowing me off for?" Aliquis whirled on the botanist and gestured widely to the theater bustling with girls. "You've been hanging out with Paldea's beauty queens and you didn't think to invite me? I thought we were friends?!"

Caught in a moment of mild panic, Arven raised his hands defensively. His gaze quickly shifted past Aliquis and settled on Serena. "I'm sorry, he followed me, I swear. I tried to tell him not to come…"

Serena's response came with a melodic laugh that seemed to lighten the air. "It's fine. I'm guessing you all have the day off for Homecoming weekend. Aliquis, you can stay and watch our run-through," she offered, her tone inviting. Then, with a playful wink, she added, "You just have to be honest about your feedback."

"Joder…," Aliquis murmured, his blush radiating over his dark skin.

Arven expressed his resignation to cruel fate with a gesture. "She's off limits," he groaned, trying to set boundaries he knew his friend was prone to push.

"I know that, Arven" Aliquis muttered through gritted teeth, embarrassed by the comment but he exchanged a mischievous look with his Meowscarada—who also appeared unamused. "But that doesn't mean I can't, like, daydream..."

"It one-hundred percent means you cannot daydream!" Arven's patience was wearing thin, his face flushing a deep shade of red., "Madre que te..." He cut himself off before his frustration got the better of him and pointed firmly to a seat in the front row. "Just sit there and don't move."

Perhaps sensing he'd pushed enough for one day, Aliquis shrugged and slid his hands into his pockets. He strolled over to the designated seat and took his place, leaning back with a casual grace, his eyes still sparkling. As he settled in, some of the girls on stage caught sight of the new audience member and sent playful winks his way, stirring a ripple of excitement among the performers. Ohara, however, stood apart, her expression a bit indiscernible.

With a sigh he couldn't quite suppress, Arven shook his head. "Again, I'm sorry about him. In a roundabout way, he's just trying to make sure I'm okay," he explained to Serena, frowning.

After Aliquis had found out about the existence of Paradox Pokémon and Arven's involvement with everything, the blue-haired trainer had been a whirlwind of reactions. One moment he was animated with excitement, practically shouting from the rooftops about how incredible it all was, his imagination running wild. The next, he was pestering Arven for keeping everything a secret. To Aliquis, this was the kind of thing "bros" should eventually share with each other, and his late discovery had only fueled his desire to be involved—and to make sure Arven was okay. He knew the botanist could get nervous and weird.

Serena, curious herself about Arven's statement and the undercurrent of meaning behind it, tilted her head slightly. "Why wouldn't you be okay?" she inquired, gentle yet probing.

Arven shuffled uncomfortably on his feet, his conscience resting uneasily. "Well…um, actually…it has to do with Ash. He found something. Another Paradox Pokémon…" he started, hesitantly delving into the tale of Ash's recent encounter and the disturbing revelations that followed in the infirmary. As he recounted the events, he wavered, revealing a bit of the internal conflict he felt.

"Ash…" Serea whispered, her gaze instinctively darting towards the exit. A part of her yearned to sprint up the aisle, to find Ash and ensure he was safe, but she resisted the urge. She could see the distress written all over Arven's face, the shame that seemed to weigh him down.

"Arven," she said softly, reaching out. She tenderly took his shoulder and squeezed it so that his eyes met hers. "It's not your fault. These creatures… even if your father has something to do with it. It's not your fault."

Arven met her gaze and, for a moment, he allowed himself to believe her, to feel the absolution she offered. But deep down, the guilt gnawed at him. He hated the idea that his friends—those he had come to really care about and respect—were now in danger because of his father's work and legacy. It wasn't just the danger around Paradox Pokémon; it was the uncertainty of it all, the not knowing how deep the rabbit hole went or how his father's ambitions might further complicate their lives. Arven's heart was heavy with a burden that was not his to bear, but it clung to him, a shadow of a past he could not escape.

"Ash is okay, by the way," Arven's eyes were glassy but he offered Serena a knowing smile. He shook his head and her hand fell away. He wiped his nose with his sleeve, "He was only in the infirmary for a few hours. He passed out during the battle. He did something, I don't know…"

Leaning casually back, Aliquis had apparently been tuning in to the conversation. "Bro has superpowers or something," he remarked, summing up his interpretation of Ash's unique abilities.

"His Aura…" Serena's voice dropped to an awed whisper. "He used to use it whenever he bonded with a Greninja he traveled with back in Kalos. I know what the bond used to do to him." A sigh parted her lips as she rubbed her temples, the memory of Ash's past experiences bringing a shadow of concern to her face. "But he can take it too far sometimes."

"He's okay," Aven repeated, hoping to appear steady and convincing. "He just needed rest. In fact, I think he fully intends to play his Blitz game tonight."

Aliquis took a bite of a bombón, his Meowscarada joining in the snack. "Oh, he's playing."

Serena shook her head, a mixture of exasperation and affection in the gesture, as she exhaled once more. Her Pokémon, now a supportive circle around her, appeared curious with their attentive posture. "Well, I guess it'd be more concerning if he wasn't," Serena conceded, her small smile reflecting a begrudging acceptance of Ash's relentless spirit. It was one of the things she loved about him, after all.

With a new, strange sense of urgency, she clapped her hands together, signaling a return to the task at hand. "Well, I guess we should keep practicing, and then do our run-through!" she declared, setting aside—for now—the new worry and unease she felt. It was almost as if Serena were trying to speed things along so that Saturday would come sooner. She couldn't help but feel a pang of regret for rejecting Ash's proposal to be his date, and she was already thinking of ways to make it up to him. To keep him near to her throughout the night.

At the mention of practice, Arven suddenly sprang to life—also wanting to take his mind off things and oddly embodying the vigor of a maestro summoned to orchestrate a symphony on the brink of chaos. He rolled up his sleeves and stepped onto the stage with his Mabosstiff trailing loyally behind him. As he moved among the performers, his eyes darted from one cooking station to the next, his gaze sharp and analytical, scrutinizing the recipes and techniques being employed.

"Add the saffron on three! One, salt. Two, pepper. Three," Arven instructed. He seamlessly integrated himself into one of the performers' choreography, moving with a rhythm that mirrored the dance steps. With a practiced hand, he added spices to her dish, "Salt!" he announced, timing his addition perfectly with the music. He then drizzled the red saffron powder onto her meat with a flourish, transforming the act of seasoning into a performance of its own.

Aliquis raised both his eyebrows at the sight. "Oh, he's really, like, getting into this?"

"Oh, yes," Serena laughed a bit uneasily, a hint of a sweat drop forming at the back of her head. "He's a closet stage mom."

Aliquis sniffed, settling into his seat with a newfound interest. "Well, we all need something to get us out of our funks," he drawled, placing his hands behind his head in a relaxed posture, enjoying what he considered free entertainment. Because he was such a good friend, he decided not to record.

Serena laughed. But, as the rehearsal continued, her expression turned contemplative. Her hand unconsciously formed a fist above her heart as thoughts of Ash flitted through her mind. She worried for him, hoping he was okay, regretting that she couldn't go to him sooner.

But Saturday... Saturday held a promise of change. After everything, after all the unspoken words and shared moments, Serena knew it was time. The uncertainty of their adventures and the ever-present danger that seemed to always shadow Ash's life had only sharpened the clarity of her feelings. She planned to tell Ash that she loved him, a confession that had grown too burdensome to remain unsaid anyway. Her heart felt too full and too swollen.

The anticipation of that moment, of finally voicing the depth of her feelings, gripped Serena with a mix of nervousness and resolve. It was a turning point she both longed for and feared, for in laying her heart bare, she would also open herself to the vulnerability of his response. Would he feel for her as deeply? Would he even understand what she meant?

Either way, Serena knew that it all really couldn't wait any longer.

Friday

24 hours before

The city streets rippled with anticipation as a sleek, famously lavender limousine pulled up in front of the imposing Paldean League headquarters, a skyscraper that reached ambitiously towards the firmament. The door of the car swung open, and a long, tan leg emerged from the vehicle.

A moment later, a woman—the media's femme la plus seduisante de Paldea*—stood before the limo as the epitome of elegance and allure. Her hair, soft shades of a lustrous purple, was styled into an updo with wispy strands artfully framing her face. Dressed in a chic, lilac-colored dress that flared at the hem, she created an airy silhouette as she moved—as if she had been captured mid-twirl, a purple flower frozen in time. Her entire demeanor radiated confidence and a certain joie de vivre, encapsulating a blend of style and playful charm. She was indeed, as people said of her, "a beautiful, mysterious, and exceptional woman."

She sauntered across the sidewalk. A barrage of camera flashes greeted her, capturing her every movement. Her purple sunglasses, a stylish barrier between her and the swarm of reporters, slid down the bridge of her nose as she flashed them a poised, enigmatic smile.

Her hazel eyes, directed confidently forward, fluttered effortlessly as they examined their surroundings beneath a set of thick, wing-like lashes accentuated by the makeup that highlighted the woman's natural beauty.

"Tulip, Tulip! When is your cosmetic line set to release?" shouted one reporter.

Another reporter, eager to catch her attention, chimed in, "What can we expect you to be wearing for the Gala tomorrow? Something from your fashion line, I'm sure!"

Questions continued to fly as another reporter probed further, "Any comment towards the rumors of Geeta's disapproval towards your ESP?"

Amidst the flurry of questions, a final reporter touched upon the political climate of the moment, "As a supporter of Isabel's campaign to remain governor, are you saddened by the polls that project the governor's loss to Diego García?"

Tulip continued to smile, unruffled by the probing nature of the questions, "'Sadness' is not in my vocabulary," she sighed with a voice made of velvet, "The closest emotion I allow is the beauty of surprise."

She smiled her ecstatic smile.

The air continued to fill with incessant clickings of camera shutters and the shouts clamoring for her attention. Amid the chaos, Tulip gave a languid wave before she turned on her heel and gracefully ascended a set of marble stairs that led to the imposing entrance of the building. Her security team prevented anyone from following.

Inside, Tulip's heels clicked against the shiny marble floor, each step resonating with a confident rhythm that seemed to harmonize with the pulse of the city around her. She moved with an effortless poise that caused heads to turn, her presence leaving a trail of whispered speculation and admiration in her wake.

As she reached the grand foyer, she passed off her lavender purse and the silk scarf that had draped her shoulders to someone on her team. The young man took the items with a slackened jaw, his posture straightening as he accepted the belongings with shaky hands.

"Well," Tulip stated with the ease of someone accustomed to the spotlight. She gingerly touched her violet bun, a gesture ensuring every hair was still in perfect placement, before snapping her fingers with a practiced air. In an instant, one of her assistants was at her side, presenting her with a tube of periwinkle lipstick which she began to reapply with a steady hand, a mirror seemingly unnecessary for such a routine task. "Time to see what dull business La Primera has planned for us this fine afternoon," she said, turning to her famously styled Espathra and popping her lips.

"Nice of you to finally arrive," came a voice from the muted shadows of the grand lobby where a figure emerged.

"Ay! Madre que me parió! Larry!" Tulip let out an exasperated yet theatrical sigh filled with reproof. Really, the cold businessman had more of a penchant for dramatic entrances than she did. "How many times have I told you not to act like some sort of creepy sleuth—popping out of dark corners. The last thing I need is to look pale with terror," she chided, though the sparkle in her eyes betrayed her fondness for the man's quirks.

Larry—while looking sharp in a tailored suit as dark as the shadows he had stepped from—appeared rather dead inside. But this was normal.

"Sorry about that," he replied in a cold, listless tone, "I'll make up for it by saying that your beauty is looking as refined as ever."

Tulip, unable to suppress a smile of satisfaction, responded with a playful lift of her chin. "Who taught you the art of flattery, Mr. Deadpan?" she closed her eyes and pursed her lips.

Together, they made their way toward the bank of escalators, Tulip's entourage forming a protective and attentive circle around them. As they walked, Tulip hummed, as though reacquainting herself with the opulence and grandeur that was Mesagoza. She pressed her lips together, the motion blending the freshly applied lipstick to perfection.

"Alright, darling, what's on your mind. I know you weren't lurking in the shadows just to escort me to a meeting I could have easily found myself," Tulip began suddenly, smiling at her own impetuosity.

Larry adjusted his stance and maintained his mostly monotone cadence while glancing about them furtively. "I have a bad feeling about this meeting," he confessed, allowing his usually guarded demeanor to slip ever so slightly. "I have no idea what Geeta has planned…and I should know, being on the Elite Four Council and all…?"

"I have a bad feeling about everything Geeta does," Tulip replied dismissively, her tone casual yet candid. She brushed off the apprehension with a graceful flick of her wrist. She continued conspiratorially, "Between you and me, I'm not exactly her biggest fan. That bewitching aura of hers overlaps too much with my own style."

Larry said nothing, but she looked at him significantly, awaiting a reply. He frowned, "So you've said."

The elevator announced its arrival with a soft ding. The doors parted smoothly.

Larry stepped in, followed by Tulip and her Espathra, the tall flightless avian as much a part of her entourage as the assistants left waiting. Tulip glanced back, giving her team a reassuring smile. "Take the next one, lovelies," she said, smooth as silk.

Once the doors whispered shut, the elevator began its silent ascent. Tulip leaned against the rail, a sense of triumph in her posture. She looked at Larry, smiling amiably at him as if to show that trivial topics had ended and the time for intimate conversation had come.

"It's not the meeting you wanted to speak with me about, is it?" she spoke slowly, like a purr, her lashes batting with indulgently. "Somehow, you know that I am about to make the deal of the century."

"I did hear about that." Larry, eyeing her Espathra curiously, let out a sigh that carried a note of both resignation and respect. "Should I say congrats?"

"Not yet," Tulip replied with a subtle shake of her head, the corner of her lips curling into a knowing smile. "I still need to speak with the Kalos Queen at the Gala. But Carmen confirmed what Isabel suspected," she divulged, her lashes batting with the thrill of some chase.

Larry's brow creased slightly in confusion. "So that's why you insisted I use one of your models to help my mole…? Whatever. I'm still confused as to how Isabel is involved," he admitted, trying to piece together the puzzle.

Tulip softened as she thought of the governor. "She's not really," she admitted with a hint of fondness. "But you know how Isabel loves to help women succeed in their industry. She was my mentor for many years, after all. In any case, I was simply alerted to Serena's predicament and mentioned that I would be interested in helping. I have eyes and ears everywhere."

"More like you have model friends and connections everywhere," Larry chuckled dryly. "You're just more social than me."

"It's not hard to be, darling," Tulip appraised her reflection in the elevator's sleek interior. Her eyes then locked on Larry with an intensity that demanded his full attention. "A businesswoman should always have a pulse on the region. You should know that better than anyone," she said, her tone light but edged with steel. "And as you said, you have your own mole infiltrating Paldea's high society. Which leads me to wonder…What are you hoping to find? What is the League investigating?"

Larry responded with a noncommittal grunt, his face plain as ever. "Can't tell you," he stated flatly.

"You're terrible!" Tulip rolled her eyes, checking one of her nails. But she did not look surprised.

"No, I'm careful," Larry corrected with a frown.

Tulip's response was a light, airy laugh, the sound dancing around the enclosed space. With a playful gesture, she reached out and flicked Larry's tie. "You're so serious. You really should consider going through my ESP. It might liven you up a bit and help your complexion," she suggested with that mischievous inflection in her words.

"I doubt that," Larry retorted, shaking his head. "And no, I do not want to undergo any of your psychological voodoo. That stuff scares the crap out of me."

Tulip, her lips fluttering, tipped her head back, "That's because you know it works…"

The elevator emitted another soft sound as it reached its destination, its doors sliding open to release Tulip and Larry into the bustling heart of the Paldean League's operations.

20 hours before

An opera of voices rose with sounds of victory and celebration from the Academy's Blitz locker rooms. Players cheered and bottles of shaken soda exploded in sugary deluges. Amid the chaos, Goh found himself hoisted atop his teammates' shoulders, an unexpected hero in a game that had everyone on edge until the final whistle.

The match against Medali Prep had been a real nail-biter, with both teams trading the lead like a hot potato. Medali's "B-team"—Aliquis's dismissive label—had turned out to be pretty good. ("Or we're still just pretty bad," one player had to remark.) Either way, the scoreboard had ticked back and forth as the minutes dwindled down.

Scarlet Academy had struggled—their communication was still off and their trust in each other's abilities still tenuous at best. Any miniscule improvement they had shown in practice sessions seemingly evaporated under the pressure of their Homecoming match. Passes missed their mark, and opportunities to score were squandered by overzealous plays. The crowd's anxiety mirrored the team's; the bleachers a mosaic of excitement and dread.

But amidst everything, Goh had his time to shine.

Medali Prep had been on the offensive, a well-executed play that had them surging towards Scarlet's hoops with a clear shot. The stadium had held its breath, the collective heartbeat of the fans skipping in unison.

In a moment of pure determination, Goh had intercepted a crucial pass between the two opposing Strikers, his Cyclizar darting with astonishing speed, weaving through an opening in the opposition. He'd been well-positioned, Saguaro would later point out, and had done everything perfectly.

Then, with the ball in his possession, Goh had done the unimaginable. ("Really, he could have broken his neck," Nemona couldn't help but point out after the fact.)

What happened was this: Goh had his Cyclizar effectively launch him in the air, directly towards one of the hoops. Why he felt the need to go with the ball was still a mysterious matter Saguaro himself was attempting to understand. Nonetheless, it had all been perfectly legal as Goh had managed to land back on his Cyclizar, once passing through the iron circle, the creature following and catching his rider as if he'd been fetching a stick.

"So, it was like one of Ash's plays during tryouts, except this time, Goh took it all the way," Aliquis had sighed, but didn't see a reason to argue, because they had won.

And so, the team celebrated.

Ash, meanwhile, found himself on a bench, totally beat. He leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees, as he watched his teammates lifting Goh and Grookey into the air. Ash couldn't help but feel super proud of his friend. Pikachu, perched beside him, shared in the little moment, his cheeks sparking with all excitement. Their eyes met, and a mutual grin spread across their faces, happy for Goh's moment in the spotlight.

As everyone began to calm down a little, Ash leaned back onto the cold metal of the lockers which pressed against him through his jersey. His eyes drifted shut for a brief second, a wave of fatigue washing over him. He hadn't been as active on the field today, his body still trying to recover from yesterday's events. Instead, Ash had spent most of the game on the sidelines, sitting with Saguaro, who had keenly pointed out the nuances of the game, layers and strategies Ash had never considered. It had definitely been an education—and the man could certainly talk.

But also during the game, Ash's eyes had occasionally drifted to Brutus, who—unlike his usual behavior—hadn't been actively playing against the team but hadn't been with them either. At least, not mentally with them. The Galarian, instead, appeared dazed, his usual confidence replaced with a veneer of uncertainty. He looked...afraid. And Ash had thought that was weird.

"Come on! We're going to go celebrate!" Aliquis clapped Ash on the shoulders, snapping the young champion out of his daze.

Grinning, Ash shook his head, his sweat-damp hair quivering like little branches. "I think I'm going to stay in tonight," he said with a hint of apology. It all sounded fun, but he was just too tired.

Aliquis smirked, exchanging a knowing glance with his Meowscarada. The pair stood side by side, arms crossed, like roguish pranksters. "Yeah, I guess you gotta rest up before the gala so you can show your girl a good time," Aliquis winked.

Ash scoffed despite the red flush on his neck. He glanced at Pikachu, who only looked at Ash suspiciously. The yellow rodent still wasn't sure if "staying in tonight" meant more waltz practice, during which Pikachu had recently become the practice partner…and this went about as well as one imagined.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of Goh," Aliquis assured, his brows wiggling up and down in a clear show of diabolical intent before disappearing to get showered and changed.

As the locker room emptied, Ash found a moment of peace and quiet. Pikachu also enjoyed the stillness. Even he was tired from everything. From keeping up with Ash's feelings, to discharging powerful Z-moves, to late night waltz practices—the Electric rodent had been through the ringer.

With the last of his teammates waving at him and filing out, Ash turned his attention to gathering his belongings, his movements methodical and slow, his muscles sore and stiff.

He reached into the depths of his locker, pulling out various items and placing them into his bag. Among the clutter, his Rotom Phone lay buried beneath a pile of school shirts he really needed to wash…As he retrieved it, his thumb swept across the screen, illuminating a slew of notifications that instantly drew his attention.

5 Missed Calls — Gary Oak

Gary: Larry wants to meet you

Gary: Sending you an address

Gary: Come tomorrow morning. Early.

Gary: Be discreet

Ash did a quick search on what "discreet" meant.

He scrunched his nose. It was safe to say, Ash was a little tired of being "discreet." Plus, he had no idea what this could be about and he only had a vague idea of who Larry even was. All he knew for sure was that the businessman was also the Medali gym leader and an Elite Four member—he'd done his research. Still, Ash wondered why Larry wanted to see him…

Turning to Pikachu, who had been watching his trainer with one ear attentively perked up, Ash muttered, "Looks like we have an errand too early tomorrow. Maybe we should go to bed early?"

Pikachu nodded vigorously, relieved.

Saturday

12 hours before

The Scarlet Academy gym was really more of a "multipurpose" room. There were bleachers, a court that could be used for numerous indoor sports and activities, and even lines on the hardwood for Pokémon battles. However, currently, the space was receiving an entirely different kind of preparation.

With her voice filled with excitement and a touch of bossiness, Nemona directed Goh and Aliquis in the decoration process. "Okay, guys, we need to make this place look legendary! Think epic battles, heroic feats, and awe-inspiring Pokémon!" she instructed, her hands gesturing broadly to emphasize her vision for the "Legendary Night" theme.

Among others, Goh, Aliquis, and Ohara—and their Pokémon—were busy unfurling banners that showcased silhouettes of various legendaries against a backdrop of cosmic purples and blues, creating the illusion of these creatures dancing among the universe. They were hanging them from the rafters, the decor casting grand shadows over the gym. Tables were being adorned with centerpieces that sparkled with LED lights, mimicking the twinkling of distant galaxies, and each centerpiece was crowned with a Poké Ball that opened to reveal miniatures of legendary Pokémon.

Pawmo, perched on Nemona's shoulder, seemed to be taking her role as the official mascot of the decorating committee quite seriously. She pointed excitedly at spots where she felt decorations were needed and clapped her paws in approval at the sight of each completed task, her enthusiasm undimmed by the scale of the work to be done.

Meanwhile, Penny stood at the edge of the gym, her eyes scanning the flurry of activity before her. Her face was a mask of neutrality. Whether she was impressed by the transformation of the gym or simply too bored to show her approval, remained to be determined.

As the space slowly morphed into a venue befitting of the dance, Nemona continued to guide the efforts. "Let's make sure every corner of this gym tells a story of adventure and power. We want everyone to feel like they're stepping into a world where legends come to life!"

Somehow, she had gotten a bullhorn.

After a few moments, Hohma, with a hint of hesitation, approached Nemona after briefly huddling with a group of students from the student committee. "Hey, so, we have a problem," he started with an unease that immediately drew Nemona's attention.

Nemona's energy momentarily halted. She whipped around to face him. "What do you mean? I reject this reality," she declared, still speaking into the bullhorn and not by accident.

Standing a bit apart, Penny couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Where did you get that thing?" she murmured under her breath.

Now visibly nervous, Hohma scratched the side of his face. "Um, well, it's good news and bad news!" he announced, glancing back at Mateo and the rest of the committee. They were watching him with a mix of hope and anxiety, fidgeting nervously but giving everyone an unconvincing thumbs up. Clearing his throat, he pressed on while his Quaxly, seemingly oblivious to the tension, quacked without a care. "Well, we got Ryme to perform at the dance! She'll also MC!"

At this, Penny came forward, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "The Montevenera gym leader?" she asked. She exchanged impressed glances with her Vaporeon, excited by this development.

Nemona blinked, processing the information. "That's great! So…what's the problem?" To her, this was fantastic news. The popular rapper would for sure elevate the event, and be a more-than-adequate distraction from Ash's absence.

Hohma shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Well…her manager told us the dimensions of the stage and…uh, the gym is too small," he finally confessed in barely more than a murmur.

"Too…small…" Nemona repeated the words as though trying to comprehend their full impact. The bullhorn made an amplified screeching sound. Her amber eyes drifted over the gym that was already halfway transformed for the dance. "The gym is too small…"

Clearly undisturbed by the turn of events, Penny responded without much emotion. "Oh, so we'll need to move the dance."

At those words, Nemona's body twitched visibly, the reality of the situation hitting her like a physical blow. "Move…the dance?" she stammered, her tone rising in disbelief.

The sudden convulsion did not go unnoticed. Everyone in the vicinity turned their attention to her, concern etched on their faces. Pawmo, startled by Nemona's abrupt movement, leapt off her shoulder, scampering away to a safer distance.

Ohara stepped forward tentatively. "Uh, Nemona?" a frown pulled down on her lips, "Are you okay?"

But Nemona seemed frozen in place, locked in a state of shock. Goh, unsure of how to react, approached her and gave her a little poke. "I think she's malfunctioned," he joked, his head bobbing with his uneasy chuckle.

Penny let out a sigh and pushed her glasses up onto the bridge of her nose with resigned annoyance. Quickly, she dismissed the overreaction with a wave of her hand. "Okay, well, no need to be so dramatic," she stated matter-of-factly. "This is fixable."

"Dramatic…fixable…" Nemona, suddenly reanimated by Penny's comment, "we need to take down all of these decorations, find a new venue, alert students of the relocation, and redecorate all in less than ten hours, and you think I'm being…dramatic!?" Her voice rose in pitch with each word.

Aliquis and Goh, witnessing Nemona's rapidly escalating stress, could only sweatdrop in response. The blue-haired trainer and his Meowscarada at least had the sense to slowly continue backing away; meanwhile, Goh's mouth twisted awkwardly as he tactlessly offered, "Is it really that big of a deal?"

Grookey and Meowscarada covered their eyes.

Before Nemona could detonate like a grenade of stress, Penny cut in with a calming, rational suggestion, lifting a finger as if to physically hold back the impending explosion. "It's not. We can just move the dance outside."

"Outside!?"

Nemona appeared caught off guard by the simplicity of the solution and blinked in surprise.

"Hm," Hohma scratched his chin thoughtfully before chiming in with logistical support for Penny's idea. "Ryme does outdoor concerts all the time. We could have the Homecoming on the lawn of the front plaza, that way, it's still at the school and we don't have to go looking for some off-site venue."

"Plus," Penny added, "we wouldn't have to decorate as much since the lawn is already like perfectly kept and basically, the open sky will give us that 'starry' vibe we were looking for in the first place. All we'll have to do is break down the tables, move them, and just decorate them with this stuff." She waved at all the decor, which she found a tad garish, with a scrunched nose.

"We could also set up some fairy lights around the perimeter and maybe send up some floating lanterns for when it gets dark," Ohara clapped happily with her Fuecoco, both inspired by the teamwork, "It'll look magical with the open sky above us, and we'll still have plenty of space for dancing!"

As the flurry of solutions and suggestions filled the air, Nemona felt her panic recede like the tide going out. But it was quickly replaced by a cold, isolating feeling. She again felt unessential, a motif in her life that was alarmingly becoming more common...And even worse, the feeling made her appear rather useless. In the face of a crisis, her initial reaction had been one of paralysis, her capability for leadership momentarily eclipsed by panic.

What was wrong with her? This never happened. She was always on her A-game; always one step ahead.

Nemona managed a forced grin that twitched her lips upwards. Part of her didn't want the problem to be solved so easily, and she certainly didn't want Penny to save the day… again. But it seemed unavoidable; a pattern was playing out with an uncomfortable regularity. In that moment, Nemona made a decision: She would stop sulking and instead prove herself once more to be the president this school deserved. And somehow, she needed to even the score and beat Penny at something… at some point.

Shaking off her visible fatigue, Nemona tossed her black and green bangs with a dramatic flair and winked at the assembly. "Excelente. Sounds like a great plan! Of course, we'll need to get it approved, but that shouldn't be an issue," she announced, rallying her spirits.

Her words acted as a catalyst, spurring everyone into action. The cheer that erupted was infectious, a collective release of tension and a unification of purpose. Immediately, the group and their Pokémon began to break down the gym, moving decorations with efficiency and a shared sense of mission as they worked together to create a memorable homecoming under the stars.

All the while, Nemona shoved her brooding feelings aside.

10 hours before

It was late morning. and the sounds of Paldea's capital city ascended like muffled drums with a pleasant swell of voices added to them. Everyone seemed to be enjoying a fiesta, as the day not only marked the larger soirées of Paldea's idly rich, but also that of a new season. "Summer," in all of its figurative glory, was ending, and "Winter"—that cyclical time of the year where travels subside, productivity increases, and the League opens its season to trainers—was beginning.

And so, the streets were busy as Ash and Pikachu navigated the sidewalks with cautious steps, attempting to lay low amid the throngs of people. They had gotten out of bed a little later than they'd meant to, and Ash had woken up to a slew of missed calls from Gary. He had quickly gotten into his clothes, put on a hat, and even borrowed some sunglasses from Goh to try and deflect any attention.

The morning sights and sounds of the metropolis enveloped them as they moved; street vendors called out their wares, enticing passersby with the promise of fresh fruit and warm pastries. Ash, of course, had to buy something when he heard his stomach growl. The air carried the mingled scents of coffee and cooking food, while pedestrians of all sorts brushed past them, their conversations a tapestry of languages and laughter, while Pokémon of various shapes and sizes added their own unique presence to the streetscape.

Biting into his sugar-dusted pastry, Ash pulled out his phone to make sure they were going the right way. Pikachu stayed close by his side, his small form weaving through the legs of the streetwalkers with practiced ease.

Finally, they came to a stop in front of a seemingly closed and nondescript storefront. The building itself was unremarkable, blending into the urban fabric without a hint of what might be inside. The windows were gated. Ash lifted his sunglasses to see if he could peer inside, but it was useless. He couldn't see a thing. Either way, this was an odd place for a meeting, he noted.

Ash looked down at Pikachu, who returned his gaze with an expectant tilt of his head. "Well, this is supposed to be it, buddy," Ash murmured. The lack of visible activity within the building did little to reassure him.

"Pika…" Pikachu's mumbled. Things like this gave him mild PTSD, and he half-expected Team Rocket to jump out at them.

With a determined nod, Ash reached out and pressed the buzzer, the sound sharply cutting through the morning hum around them. They waited, the city's life swirling past them in a blur. Ash did his best to keep his head down.

He pressed the buzzer again, a firmer push this time as if willing it to get some kind of response. They waited once more, exchanging shrugs of confusion and growing unease. Just as they were about to give up and possibly consider this whole venture a wild Pokémon chase, the door clicked open.

Before Ash and Pikachu could react, a pair of hands burst from the darkness beyond the threshold, grabbing them with surprising swiftness. They yelped as they were unceremoniously dragged inside. The door shut behind them with a thud, plunging them into a new world that smelled strongly of fabric and leather.

His sunglasses falling off, Ash's eyes adjusted to the dim light. He realized they were surrounded by clothes—high fashion clothes…and a lot of it. Racks of suits and dresses in various states of completion lined the walls, each piece more exquisite than the last. Fabrics of rich colors and textures draped over mannequins, while sketches of designs were pinned to the walls.

Rough hands guided Ash to a seat near a rack of particularly impressive suit jackets. As he looked around, still trying to catch his breath, he noticed the meticulous organization of the space, the care with which each item was placed. There were shelves of accessories that sparkled under the soft lighting—cufflinks, ties, belts, purses, shoes…

Ash couldn't help but think Serena would love this place.

As his eyes made their way around the room, Ash suddenly spotted Gary standing before him, a wry smile playing on his lips. The researcher's posture looked a bit relaxed despite the whole dramatic entrance.

"What the heck was that all about?" Ash demanded, soothing out his shirt as if Gary's hold on him had been the cause for its wrinkles.

Gary closed his eyes with a scoff. "I told you, we're trying to be discreet," he said, as if the explanation should have been obvious. His eyes opened, the smile still lingering, betraying his enjoyment of the moment.

"Okay, but—,"

Ash began, his words trailing off as his attention was suddenly distracted. Two men approached them from the far end of the room, both dressed in sharp and tailored suits. Ash recognized one of the men immediately as the Medali Gym leader, Larry, from some pictures he'd seen online. The guy had the same kind of frowning expression in all his photos, and his head of hair, a distinguished shade of blue-gray, seemed to be particularly styled.

However, Ash's gaze lingered on the other man, whom he didn't recognize. This man's face was flat, almost featureless, yet there was a congenial air about him that seemed at odds with Larry's more serious, almost sad demeanor.

"Um…" Ash started, raising his eyebrows at Pikachu, who only shook his head as though perpetually wondering why his trainer would ever think he has any of the answers.

"Hi," Larry started with a nod towards himself and then gestured towards his associate, "I'm Larry. This is Bob." His introduction was pretty straightforward.

"Hi…" Ash replied politely, but he couldn't keep his eyes from narrowing slightly as he leaned back in his chair, settling in for the ride.

Larry's mouth spoke seemingly past the thin line it perpetually held, "Have to say, I've been wanting to meet you for a little while now. But you know, things get complicated, and I've been trying to teach your friend here how to be a spy. He's terrible by the way."

"Hey!" Gary protested. From the shadows, Umbreon snorted, clearly finding Larry's assessment amusing.

Larry frowned and took a seat across from Ash in what looked to be at a seamstress desk, "Anyway, heard you've been helping Mr. Master Spy prepare for his battle. Exciting stuff, I know. But I figured it was about time we met since, I have a feeling you're going to need a wingman for tonight's shindig. That, and I need your help."

"Why does everyone need my help these days…?" Ash let out a small, exasperated sigh, his gaze drifting upwards as though he half-expected a legendary Pokémon to come crashing into the store to whisk him away from this ever-complicating scenario. Dealing with dangerous Pokémon suddenly seemed far easier than navigating all the requests and expectations now piling up around him. At least with a Pokémon, he knew where he stood, understood the challenges, how to meet them head-on. This, however, was way different.

Bob's surprise was clear as he leaned forward, "You're the Monarch of the World...and with all those times you've saved the planet..."

"Right, right. Ashy-boy's a hero," Gary jumped in, giving Ash a friendly pat on the back while trying to suppress a crooked grin.

Larry decided to get the conversation back on track. "Look, I have a lot to catch you up on, but first, I gotta ask…What are you wearing tonight?" He questioned practically, segueing into the logistics of their immediate concern—the gala.

Ash looked down at his current outfit, then shrugged somewhat helplessly. "I was thinking of just picking something up at a store..."

The reaction from the men in the room was immediate and unanimous; they all but keeled over.

"Arceus," Bob spoke up, rubbing his face, "Tulip was right. He has nothing planned!"

Larry quickly composed himself, closing his eyes in a show of patience and resignation. "Yeah, well, she certainly does her homework," he acknowledged, his voice carrying a hint of reluctant admiration for the beautician's foresight.

"Tulip?" Ash recognized the name and he sniffed.

Sensing Ash's confusion, Larry clarified. "She's the gym leader for Alfornada. We're sort of colleagues—but look, she had a feeling you wouldn't have anything appropriate to wear," he explained grimly, "Said something about how if left to your own devices, you'd probably show up in your little trainer's cap or something 'equally disastrous' for the party."

"Hey!" Ash protested, feeling slightly offended. He liked his hats.

Meanwhile Pikachu, Gary, and Umbreon couldn't help but snicker at the accurate, if exaggerated, portrayal.

Not sure what was so funny, Larry moved on, gesturing to the lavish array of clothing around them. "But this is her warehouse," he revealed, indicating the racks of immaculate suits and accessories that surrounded them. "She told me to make sure you got suited up from her inventory—which works great for her, since she'll effectively be sponsoring you for free. I tell you, she's a smart one," Larry sighed, running a hand across the side of his head as though he had felt a hair come loose from its gel. "Anyway, she even suggested arranging a date for you. Let me see…"

Gary let out a chuckle, one that carried a hint of pure devilry. "Oh? Hear that, Ashy-boy? Looks like you'll get a date after all," he quipped, earning a disapproving glance from Ash.

"No thanks."

Bob stepped into the conversation with genuine interest. "Oh? Already bringing a plus one?" he asked, his social nature making him keen on the details of such things.

Who even was this guy?! Ash furiously rubbed his face, "Okay, look. I appreciate the help, but this is all a bit much and a bit fast."

Larry raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Whoa, okay. No date. Understood," he said, backpedaling on the idea. "Boy, you're touchy."

Gary pinched Ash's cheek, "Just when it comes to a particular someone."

Ash waved him off angrily.

"All of Tulip's models are very pretty..." Bob, not quite ready to drop the topic, added with a knowing look and a little sing-song quality to his voice.

"He'll pass." Gary folded his arms across his chest and grinned, "He's got his own girl to woo, if you know what I mean. But by all means, he'll take pointers."

"Gary!" Ash protested, his cheeks reddening. He was going to kill him. Next time they were alone…

Larry cleared his throat to put an end to that matter. "Okay, whatever. Gary, you're taking Carmen again," he stated matter-of-factly, revealing a bit of the behind-the-scenes coordination. "Apparently, she's Tulip's earpiece, so," he continued, indicating that their arrangements were part of a reciprocal agreement. "She and I are kind of doing this 'I do this for you, you do this for me' dance."

"Hm," Gary raised an eyebrow, "can I get in on that?"

Larry snorted, his nose curling in on itself. He gave the researcher a mildly repulsed look before turning to Ash, "Is he always like this?"

"Yes," Ash and Pikachu both nodded vigorously.

Bob decided it was time to move forward. "Well, you're both gonna need to look the part, so follow me," he said, signaling for them to come with him. "Tulip left some things out for you to try."

4 hours before

Serena sat with an almost statuesque stillness as makeup artists worked around her, their brushes and pencils moving in deft, precise strokes. From the corner of her eye, she watched Kathi-Grace pace her crowded apartment while fielding calls and answering messages with a practiced ease despite all the activity.

She was acting as the PR frontliner for the Kalos Queen, whose social media platforms were being bombarded with inquiries from the media and a deluge of adoration from fans still riding the high of the Showcase the night before.

"Listen to this one," Kathi-Grace began, her eyes scanning her phone, "Someone wrote, 'Serena's elegance on stage is matched only by the grace of her performances. Truly, she is the embodiment of inspiration.'"

She didn't pause long before finding another gem. "And get this, a critic who's known for being, well, let's say 'tough', commented, 'The Mesagoza Showcase exhibition transcended the realm of performance art. It was a masterclass in storytelling, where each sequence, and each performer, was a brushstroke in a larger, breathtaking masterpiece.'"

With each praise relayed, Kathi-Grace watched as Serena absorbed the words, a smile threatening to break through her composed exterior.

In the midst of all the preparation, Sylveon, Pancham, and Delphox lent their paws to the stylist team, arranging Serena's dress, shoes, and jewelry with care. Their playful nature emerged as they adorned themselves with spare ribbons and bows, immersing themselves in the pre-event preparations.

A chime from Serena's Rotom Phone broke through the concentration in the room. Tied to her chair by the ongoing makeup work, she watched as Pancham fetched the device for her, his movements swift and eager.

"Thanks, Pancham!" Serena said, her voice filled with relief as she took the phone from him.

While Kathi-Grace remained engrossed in her conversations—her own phone glued to her ear as she moved through the apartment, coordinating with the rest of Serena's team—the honey-blonde opened her messages with a bright, relieved smile.

Ash: I'm excited to see you.

Serena nearly brought the device to her heart. They had exchanged a few texts over the last twenty-four hours, the two of them being so busy or exhausted. Last night, after her show, she had asked him how he was doing, trying not to confront him about what she'd heard from Arven. They had begun to talk about it though, but Ash had clearly fallen asleep and much was left unsaid.

Serena: I'm excited to see you too.

"Serena," Kathi-Grace's voice broke through the moment just as Serena looked up to see two modelesque-looking women striding into the room, their presence commanding attention. Between them, they carried an absolutely stunning dress.

Momentarily forgetting herself, Kathi-Grace allowed her phone to slip through her fingers and it clattered onto the table as she moved her hand to drum her fingers against her mouth, her eyes wide. "What is this?"

One of the models, with a cool, composed demeanor, announced, "Governor Isabel has given the Kalos Queen a gift. She insists she wears it tonight." She paused, allowing the significance of the statement to sink in before continuing, "It comes directly from one of Paldea's luxury fashion houses, Casa Lavanda."

The gown presented to Serena and her Pokémon was a vision in the softest pale blue, a color reminiscent of early summer days or the light refracted from the shine of a sapphire jewel. The model held it up further, displaying its full glory, the skirt cascading down in a gentle waterfall of fabric.

Compelled by its beauty, Serena carefully stood up from the makeup chair, her movements unhurried to not disturb the artist's work. She approached the gown, her hand reaching out tentatively. The material, a fine, flowing chiffon, glided through the fingers like a gentle breeze, smooth and cool to the touch.

"It's so beautiful," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath, full of awe.

Kathi-Grace's demeanor shifted abruptly from delighted awe to near panic. Her face drained of color as if she'd been suddenly drenched with an icy bath. "But… we'd have to change your whole look! Your jewelry! Shoes! Everything!" Her words tumbled out in a rush, the prospect of altering the carefully curated ensemble causing her professional poise to wobble.

Just as the manager's mini-heart attack seemed to reach its crescendo, the second of the models stepped forward, an array of accessories in hand. With an air of unruffled assurance, she said, "We come prepared."

2 hours before

In the dimly lit confines of a lavish Paldean hotel room—one that should really not be in use—three figures stood decked out in the finery of the region's elite. James adjusted the lapels of his sharply cut suit, a rich maroon that surprisingly suited his tall, lean frame. Jessie twirled in front of the mirror, her dress a vibrant shade of Paldean orange, the ruffles cascading down like the petals of an exotic flower. Meowth, perched on the vanity, had donned a miniature bow tie, glasses, and a top hat to complete his disguise.

"James, do stop fussing. You look like a nobleman already, albeit one with a hair color crisis," Jessie remarked with a smirk, her eyes catching his reflection in the mirror.

James, sticking a purple mustache onto his upper lip with a wince, managed an offended glare. "I'll have you know, Jessie, my natural color brings a touch of rebel elegance to the whole ensemble," he retorted, his nose in the air.

"Yeah, and I'm da king's lost 'Meowjesty,' right?" Meowth cackled as he polished the gold bar at his forehead. He soon turned serious, "Now focus! We ain't here to win no fashion contest."

Jessie sauntered over to the table laden with entremeses they had 'acquired' from the hotel. "Of course, we're here for the Ceruledge…" In her mind, she added, and proposals of marriage from Paldea's bourgeoisie to finally live as the queen I am.

However, she said: "And as a bonus, that twerp's Pikachu." She popped an olive into her mouth, her gaze calculating.

Eyeing a plate of croquettas, James couldn't help but add, "Though, if we snag some high-class snacks along the way, who's to complain?"

"You two are hopeless!" Shaking his head, Meowth leapt down from the vanity. "Remember, we gotta be all hoity-toity, blend in, and den swipe dat fiery sword Pokémon when the moment's ripe!"

Jessie nodded as a glint of ambition flickered in her eyes. "And let's not forget about all the other pretty and powerful Pokémon we might see! Oh, how the boss would shower us with praise if we finally came to him with a trove of bejeweled creatures," she said, clasping her hands together as if already basking in the glory.

Now leaning into the role with a bit more enthusiasm, James accentuated his most polished accent. "Indeed, dear Meowth and Jessie, we shall pilfer the Pokémon posthaste. And should we encounter the twerpish Ash, we'll simply outclass him with our newfound sophistication."

They all shared a laugh, a bit too loudly, prompting a knock on the wall from the next room. Composing themselves, they slipped into their roles, prepared to mingle among Paldea's high society with mischief in mind, their grandiose plans for the evening as oversized as their exaggerated disguises.

1 hour before

The Navarro family mansion was simply called La Villa. It was one of the very old family estates that still pulsed with the blood of the Old World. The building's façade, adorned with ornate cornices and pilasters, spoke of the Renaissance Revival style that had been the vogue amongst Paldean aristocracy. Luminaries, strategically placed, cast the sandstone walls in a warm, inviting light, and the multitude of arching windows peered onto the immaculate lawn like a set of a hundred eyes used to watching the knots of intrigue unfold before them.

The media had gathered outside in droves. They jockeyed for positions along the gold carpet that led into the house—a plush, sun-kissed path awaiting the feet of starlets and dignitaries. Security guards, sharp in their uniforms, maintained a close watch, ensuring the photographers and reporters were kept behind velvet ropes. Some were broadcasting live and preparing home viewers for who they might see.

Soon, a black car pulled up to the driveway's rounded curb and Hamber and Amethio emerged. The advisor, with his sharp, angular features, stepped out first, his traditional Paldean suit catching the light with subtle gold accents. He held his stern, composed expression, between his slate-gray hair with calm experience and authority.

Amethio followed, the soft waves of his half white, half black hair catching the dying light. His violet eyes surveyed the surroundings with a mixture of wariness and respect. His suit, an elevated version of his typical attire, contrasted sharply with Hamber's traditional clothes, but the signature triangular amethyst pendant remained fixed at his neck.

Behind the two, Dusknoir and Ceruledge floated onto the scene. Each wore a bowtie, Dusknoir's spectral form somehow making the accessory appear both quaint and imposing, while Ceruledge's flames flickered, reflecting off its silken fabric. The two—though maintaining their serious fronts—appeared inwardly quite pleased by their appearance.

The advisor and his ward entered the Navarro mansion almost unnoticeably, the media clearly disinterested. Inside, the foyer opened up around them, a grand space with marble floors polished to a reflective sheen. They made their way toward the grand staircase, navigating through corridors, their footsteps muffled by the plush carpeting that lined the halls upstairs.

Reaching Navarro's study, they were greeted by a dimly lit sanctuary where shadows played across centuries-old woodwork and leather-bound spines. The room held the rich scent of aged books mingled with the subtle fragrance of cedar from the wood-paneled walls. High shelves laden with these tomes reached towards the coffered ceiling, interrupted only by the occasional ornate sconce that cast a warm, amber glow over the space.

Navarro was seated behind a grand desk with papers and modern devices neatly organized across the surface. He was flanked by his Absol, its sleek form lounging beside him, its horn gleaming faintly in the room's subdued lighting.

The CEO himself was dressed in a traditional tux for the evening, though the starched shirt couldn't distract from the weariness that sunk the man's features. Large, dark circles hung under his eyes, betrayed nights of too little rest, while his five o'clock shadow added a ruggedness that seemed out of place in the polished environment.

Across from him, Hamber and Amethio now stood with an air of forced respect, their figures casting long shadows on the Hisuian rugs that adorned the floor. Dusknoir and Ceruledge stopped a respectful distance behind their trainers.

Navarro leaned forward, intertwining his fingers atop the desk, his tired gaze still piercing as he addressed Hamber and Amethio. "Well, gentlemen," he began with a cool address, "tonight will be the perfect setting to advance our interests. We must continue to ensure that Mayor García's campaign is looked upon favorably, and keep our own investors content and distracted from Turo's disappearance. It is all very simple."

Hamber nodded in agreement, his eyes momentarily glancing towards the model of Area Zero prominently displayed to one side of the study.

"Indeed, señor. The gala's attendees include those who hold sway over Area Zero's future. It's imperative we navigate these waters with the subtlety befitting our cause." Hamber paused, "Though, I hear the monarch will be attending?" A flash of irritation twitched the advisor's mustache, "I cannot help but wonder why I was not told sooner about this development."

A calculated smirk played at the corners of Eduardo's lips, though he quickly masked the expression with an air of nonchalance. Leaning back in his chair, he steepled his fingers.

"Ah, Hamber, you worry too much. I found it most appropriate to extend the invitation to the monarch, given that he's visiting our region. A gesture of goodwill, you might say. But of course," Navarro issued forth a faint wave of his hand, the light from the sleek devices on his desk glinting off his eyes, "it will be quite beneficial for Mayor García to be seen engaging with the monarch. Imagine the optics — a picture of them shaking hands, or even standing side by side. We'll send it off to the press; the symbolism alone would bolster García's campaign."

Hamber's expression tightened at Navarro's cavalier dismissal of the obvious potential for conflict this posed. "You do recall that the monarch almost choked Diego last time they were in the same room…" he reminded with a cough that could have been interpreted as an impatient scoff.

"We will make it all appear as a misunderstanding," Navarro stated confidently, his hand stroking the sleek fur of his Absol in a gesture of absent-minded comfort. "In any case, the people will like seeing García stand beside the champion. It's all about presentation. Besides, he might soon become the next Champion of Paldea, and that could be useful to us."

Hamber's brows knit together, though he maintained the executive facade. "If you say so, señor," The advisor's words seemed as if he had to haul them through a quagmire to utter them. "Still, I feel as though you underestimate the boy. He will be no easier to control than La Primera."

"Perhaps, but I may be able to find a way to get him to see things from our perspective…" Navarro mused, his mind distracted as he ceased his strokes on Absol's snowy fur. Suddenly, he looked up sharply, "What are we going to do about La Primera, if she arrives?"

"We have handled Geeta," Hamber's eyes met Amethio's for a moment before resuming with a calm that contradicted the fragility of their conversation.

Reluctantly, Navarro recognized the necessity of relying on Hamber's assurances and nodded without question. "Is everything else ready for the gala?" He lit a cigarette.

"Yes, all is prepared," Hamber confirmed, the stiffness in his posture easing as he delved into the operational details. "The arrangements are in place, and security has been briefed. Furthermore," he added, a flicker of interest sparking in his eyes, "Amethio eagerly awaits to demonstrate his abilities against this new rival you have put him against."

Amethio, stepping forward, offered a bow that was both respectful and measured, albeit a little forced. "Only so as to prove myself capable to serve," he stated coolly while a sharp undercurrent cut through his tone that made him sound anarchic.

Navarro responded with a nod, the shadows under his eyes seemed to grow more pronounced as he inhaled smoke. One hand began to drum the desk. Turning his gaze towards Hamber, the CEO broached a sensitive subject.

"And when do you plan to approach Turo's son for samples of the Herba? The señora…" He trailed off, the significance of his question hanging heavily in the air. Opting to leave the sentence unfinished, he waved off the end of it, stuck his cigarette between his lips, and stood to walk over to a cart, from which he poured himself a glass of water.

Hamber, his hands still clasped behind his back in a stance of unwavering formality, replied, "Very soon, Navarro. But do not worry; your wife is in the best of care." He attempted to sound smooth and reassuring.

Absorbing his advisor's assurances with a skeptic's ear, Navarro took a small sip of the cold water, letting the taste of ash and smoke slip away for just a moment, "But she must make an appearance tonight, or people will grow wary…"

"She will be well enough to attend," Hamber affirmed without altering his tone; however, beneath the politeness and affected sympathy, an indifference and even irony could be discerned.

"Muy bien," Navarro buttoned his sleek, black jacket and extinguished his cigarette.

The Gala

Ash and Pikachu somehow found themselves sharing a ride with Larry and Bob to the party. The black car slowly crawled through the city traffic until finding more room outside the metropolis. Throughout the journey, Larry had been filling Ash in on everything he knew from his own investigations on Turo's disappearance, the Paradox Pokémon leaving the crater, and Tera Industries.

"So you see," Larry sighed, "I've been trying to keep up with everything myself."

Ash listened, sitting stiffly in his suit, the unfamiliar feel of formal attire a stark contrast to his usual casual clothes. He was dressed in a sleek black suit that hugged his matured frame. The tailored jacket with sharp lapels matched with a crisp black shirt underneath and the black bow tie at his neck. His trousers were cut close, defining a clean, streamlined silhouette, and his shoes, polished to a reflective sheen, completed the look.

"Okay, but what do you need my help for?"

Beside Ash, Pikachu wore a small collar and a little red tie, which the electric mouse sported with a sense of pride, his chest puffed out slightly as he surveyed the interior of the car with bright, beady eyes.

Larry inclined his head as though to admit that Ash's question was a good one, "Well, it seems like Navarro wants to involve you in something. Gary told me that he was strong-armed into getting you to come tonight. I just want to know why."

"You and me both," Ash groaned, considering this with a twist of his lips to indicate he was thinking.

"So talk to them," Larry gestured with a hand as though opening a door before him, "play along with their little games, and keep your ears and eyes peeled."

Ash winced, "Yeah, I'm not the best at these 'games.'"

"You don't have to be," Larry amended, looking at Bob, who was answering emails on his phone, "Just stand there and look pretty. See what they want from you."

The young champion ran a hand through his dark hair, still confused as to how he fit into all of this. Pikachu placed a little paw on his arm in an attempt to comfort him.

Ash smiled, trying to take his mind off the overwhelming feeling that seemed to be creeping upon him. The thought of seeing Serena lifted his spirits and sent a wave of excitement over him.

"Are we there yet?"

They were there.

The car pulled to a smooth halt outside of La Villa, having waited its turn in the long procession that lined the gravel driveway. Before Ash could fully process their arrival, Larry and Bob exchanged a knowing nod. As if on cue, the doors were flung open by unseen hands, thrusting Ash and Pikachu into the dazzling limelight.

Camera shutters and calls immediately enveloped them, the press crowding in with their lenses focused and microphones thrust forward. The media—and hoards of fans—descended upon Ash with an urgency that was as overwhelming as it was immediate.

"What are you wearing?!" one reporter shouted, her camera flashing in Ash's eyes.

Another from the left—

"How are you enjoying Paldea?"

A third—

"When will you start to take on the gyms?"

Ash, taken aback by the barrage of questions, could only offer an uncomfortable smile and a timid wave. His usual confidence seemed to falter under the weight of public scrutiny.

"Come on, Champ," Bob said with a chuckle, placing a guiding hand on Ash's shoulder, steering him down the gold carpet.

Pikachu stayed behind for a moment to answer some questions and pose with his little tie.

As Ash stood at the threshold of the Navarro mansion, his gaze swept over the palatial estate. Its grandeur was imposing. The sheer scale of it drew a low whistle from him, his eyes wide with admiration and a tinge of disbelief. Pikachu, soon returning to his place beside Ash, wiggled his eyebrows, his cheeks covered in lipsticked kisses.

Ash's eye twitched. "You're enjoying this a little too much."

Inside, the grand hall was alive with the sounds of a string quartet nestled in the corner, their music weaving through the crowd in a harmonious backdrop. Waiters glided between guests with an effortless grace, bearing trays laden with sparkling drinks and an array of Paldean tentempiés, from succulent skewers of gambas al ajillo to delicate pastries, each a small work of art.

A whirlwind of colors and fabrics enveloped Ash, as hundreds of dresses and suits flashed around him. The young champion spotted an array of attire ranging from the height of fashion to the downright bizarre—a myriad of styles that reflected the eclectic tastes of high society. Some guests donned traditional outfits with modern twists, while others seemed to embrace the avant-garde with eccentric and bold choices.

Pokémon, not to be left out of the festivities, accompanied their trainers. Some were adorned in miniature accessories mirroring their human counterparts—bow ties, ribbons, even tiny hats perched atop their heads. They mingled among the guests, some being petted or performing small tricks to the delight of onlookers.

Socialites clustered in groups, their conversations pausing as Ash made his entrance. The room seemed to take a collective breath, eyes turning towards the Monarch of the World, eager to see him in their realm. A flutter of giggles and whispers hummed through the crowd, especially from a cluster of women who eyed him up and down with coquettish smiles.

Feeling way out of his element, Ash exchanged a glance with Pikachu, who really didn't offer any solidarity. He was already having a blast, nibbling on a pastry and moving up to some ladies to be petted.

Ash sweatdropped. "We're definitely not in Pallet Town anymore…"

At that moment, Larry caught sight of the young monarch looking slightly like a Driflblim caught in a gust. "Over here," he motioned. Ash sighed and navigated through the attendees towards Larry while looking like someone who's just been thrown into the deep end but is determined to swim.

Glancing up from some daze, the young champion suddenly noticed the businessman conversing with one of the most vibrant and lively girls present at the gala.

She was like a burst of playful and animated color, draped in a whimsical dress that seemed to echo her effervescent personality. The gown was painted with a kaleidoscope of hues, starting with a deep, electric blue bodice that clung to her frame, accentuating her youthful figure. The skirt flared out like a ballerina's in an explosion of iridescent shades—pinks, blues, and yellows cascading down in delicate layers of tulle resembling petals of a bloomed peony. It moved with her every giggle and gesture, shimmering with sequins that caught the light, making her seem as if she were dancing even in stillness.

Her accompanying Pokémon—with his Rotom Phone, Ash identified it as a Bellibolt—was not to be overlooked, dressed in an adorable outfit that was clearly custom-made for the occasion. It wore a small yellow bow tie that matched the yellow accents of the girl's outfit, and a tiny vest that had a zig-zag pattern similar to her dress.

"Ohhh, you are a cutie," the girl giggled, the long sleeve of her dress covering her filed teeth for a moment as a mischievous glint entered her amethyst eyes. "Well, 'ello, hola, ciao and bonjour to you," she popped up on her toes and gave Ash the customary greeting with two kisses on the cheeks.

"Down, Iono," Larry grunted, "he's new to all of this."

Ash looked sheepish and glanced around the room. Pikachu, meanwhile, had scampered happily on his shoulder to receive his own greeting—and to look for more food with a bird's eye view.

"Funsy, I love fresh meat," the girl Iono smiled and her fangs gleamed in the chandelier light, "I'm the gym leader at Levincia, and let me tell you. I'm looking forward to your challenge, pretty boy."

"The gym leader?" was all Ash could say, he was clearly preoccupied and having some out of body experience. He wished Serena were here.

"Indeedy-doo! I kick it as Gym Leader when I'm not producin' sweet content on the internet as an influencer to bring dreams to the masses!" Iono cried, her childish glee hitting Ash like a mild electric shock. Then, looking at Larry, the girl ask with teasing smile, "Need me to take care of him while you go do your business stuff?"

Larry hmphed again but turned to Bob, who nodded seriously as if to indicate they had something to attend to. "Play nice," was all he said before—to Ash's horror—leaving.

Iono then whirled back on the young champion, who raised his hands as if to push back the wave of her energy.

"So," she began, looping her arm with Ash's and beginning to lead him around the ballroom, "Tulip certainly dressed you up all nice. This is her brand, by the way. Is this really your first rodeo?"

"Um," Ash could feel his cheeks heating up as many eyes followed them.

"Oh, yeah," Iono snickered, "I hope this doesn't come as too much of a surprise, but you're bein' broadcast live to the world right now! Smile!"

Just then, a camera flashed in Ash's face, leaving him blind.

Gary and Carmen had arrived separately, but shortly after Ash and Larry. They entered the mansion, which Gary found intimidating, and he instinctively felt for his Poké balls for a sense of security. He even currently had Umbreon in his capsule to make sure he was rested and ready for what was to come.

They quickly walked through the main foyer and then towards the ballroom, where everyone appeared to be gathered and having a fabulous time. Carmen exchanged kisses and quick Paldean greetings with many in the crowd.

The bar was in full swing; silvery trays glided through the air, seemingly of their own accord, carried by servers or levitated by Pokémon, delivering a steady supply of cocktails that permeated the ballroom until the air was alive with chatter and laughter, and casual innuendo and introductions forgotten on the spot, and enthusiastic meetings between women who never knew each other's names.

Soon the lights seemed to grow brighter as the sunlight melted off the windows—laughter was spilled with wasteful extravagance, tipped by a quick word or call. Groups swelled and dissolved and coalesced all in the same breath; new arrivals wove here and there, forming the excited center of a group for one intermittent moment and then triumphantly dissipating into the sea of faces and colors under the constantly changing light.

The party had begun.

Gary and Carmen were soon found and brought into Navarro's group by Diego García who spotted them by the bar. The gathered men and women all sipped their drinks with prodigious slowness so as to preserve their wits for the night ahead.

"Ah, the man of the hour!" García's florid face greeted the researcher with a pleased grin. "I hear you are going to be providing tonight's entertainment!"

Gary put on his best smirk and tilted his head in a show of submission, "I can't wait to amuse you all."

"Hopefully, it will be more than amusing," Navarro responded absently, his mind clearly elsewhere. Gary nodded imperceptibly at these words, but he noted how the CEO's gaze was on the sickly women he had seen the night of Serena's showcase. He internally grimaced at the sight of her skin, which looked more gray and pallid than before. Accompanying her was that silver-haired Galarian Gary had also seen before—but forgot his name—and a Chansey.

"Amethio certainly seems ready and confident, Hamber," Joaquín de Levincia pointed to the pale young man behind Navarro, his hand impressively holding a drink and his cigar simultaneously, "I wonder, Eduardo, will you ask the monarch to battle as well? I would love to see him in action."

"Perhaps," Navarro mused, clearly not considering the idea.

"That would certainly be a show then, wouldn't it?" A new figure, one Gary had not met before, but still clearly close to the circles of power, added rather languidly to the conversation. Middle-aged, with lines at the corners of his eyes that hinted at years of calculated smiles, his appearance was meticulously curated to project an aura of trustworthy handsomeness.

"You certainly do love a good show, Fernando," Diego chortled a bit grotesquely, twisting the corners of his dark mustache, "and how did you find the Performance last night? You mentioned you would attend, being in town."

The man named Fernando shrugged, his manner suggestive of the fact that he had mastered the art of political maneuvering. "Fine enough. The Kalos Queen is a very talented girl. Very beautiful, as you said, but it did not feel like a true Showcase, from what I've read of such things. And she was not on stage as much as you made it seem she would be, Diego."

From the corner of his eye, Gary noticed Guillermo—standing slightly behind the mayor—stiffening as Diego's warning glance stole upon the contest professor.

"That will soon be corrected," Lebarón announced with a voice a bit too loud for the conversation, "she had the charitable idea to feature some Performance students in her shows the last few weeks. But we will soon begin traditional Showcases, with opportunities for encore moments for the winner." He left the rest unsaid.

Again, Fernando shrugged, taking care to make the action appear not every bit as deliberate as it was.

"Ah! There is the monarch," Diego García murmured knowingly. In a low voice, he inclined himself towards Navarro, "Shall we clear the air?"

Gary's eye twitched. These men and their terrible ideas.

Ash felt like he was a drone going through all of the exhaustive introductions for politicians, actors, other social people—about whom he had no idea (and of whom he quickly forgot.) Meanwhile, Iono seemed to chat away with every one of them with the expertise of a true socialite. It was all the same. Each person would say some words to Ash, gush over his Pikachu, then Iono would move them along.

From the corner of his eye, Ash saw Gary arrive with some girl, and his eyes followed the two as they attached themselves to Navarro's group. Ash looked away immediately at the sight of García, his blood pressure spiking and his mouth already dry.

"I told you Isabel, I have remarkable taste."

As Ash regained his composure, a new figure approached, drawing his gaze. The woman before him was clearly important—he knew that much. Her dress was intense.

Indeed, the fabric of the gown captured the essence of the sky at twilight, a soft lilac color that played with the light, its edges frosted with delicate lace. Her hair was a cool shade of lavender, styled in an updo that held both allure and authority, and her eyes, sparkling with intelligence, held his gaze with an unspoken intrigue.

"Ash Ketchum, Pikachu, this is Tulip," Iono giggled happily and clapped her hands, her admiration for the woman as clear as day. "A Paldea female powerhouse! Magnífico!"

Tulip smiled winningly at Iono, "Well, aren't you as energized as ever?" Then turning to the girl's EleFrog Pokémon, "and buenas noches to you too, Bellibolt."

"Bah-Bolt!" the Electric-type croaked happily.

"Look at me! I'm taking the monarch around and introducing him to everyone," Iono twirled on the tip of her toes.

Tulip raised a perfect eyebrow. She knew that to be an enthusiast was Iono's social vocation and, sometimes even when the girl did not feel like it, she became enthusiastic in order not to disappoint the expectations of those who knew her. The subdued smile which always played around her lips expressed, as in a spoiled child, a continual awareness of her charming mask, was clearly something Iono neither wished, nor could, nor considered it necessary, to change.

Hazel eyes flickering to Ash, the beautician drawled, "It's all a little bit overly glamorous, isn't it? As if they're hiding something."

"Um," Ash didn't know what to say. He didn't know what she meant by 'they' and he was a little uncomfortable in Tulip's presence, as though her slow-batting eyes were acutely analyzing him.

"Tulip!" Iono pouted, her arms folding in front of her chest, "I hate it when you say weird things!"

Tulip shrugged and took a sip of her sparkling drink with carefully pursed lips. "Oh, you know how I like to be unnecessarily enigmatic sometimes. Adds to my allure."

"Urgh, and stop saying big words!"

Ash had to agree with Iono's petitions on this one.

Tulip's face changed as her eyes fell on something behind Ash. Before he could turn around to follow her gaze, she came up quickly to him, whispering low in his ear, "A word of advice. No matter what happens: smile."

Ash suddenly found himself being led towards the bar by an elderly gentleman, who had introduced himself as Hamber. The man's introduction was quick and succinct, as was his reintroduction of Ash to the men in Navarro's group, to which he'd been brought.

Ash felt Pikachu's ear twitch by his head.

"Thank you for coming, monarch, we know how busy a champion's social rendezvous can be," the CEO remarked, but not without a fair share of irony. "A pleasure to see you again, and hopefully in better circumstances."

Ash murmured something unintelligible, and continued to look round as if in search of something. Pikachu sweatdropped, a little tense.

"Diego would wish to apologize for his behavior the other night. His jokes are distasteful, at times, and he knows he's not very funny," Navarro cast an award-winning grin towards the young champion and looked at García, who chuckled.

"Oh yes, I'm terribly un-funny, actually. I'm very sorry if I offended," the tall, mustached man chortled into his drink, exchanging an amused glance with the man Ash had been told was a guy named Fernando, the governor of the Northern Province or something.

"Here," Navarro continued with forced joviality when Ash did not say anything. "Why don't you gentlemen shake hands?"

"I'd rather not," Ash responded immediately, jutting his chin towards Diego. His eyes darkened, "Not until he also promises to apologize to Serena."

Diego's eyes flashed, but he managed to mask his irritation with a light and acquiescent-sounding huff. "Of course. I will apologize to the Kalos Queen myself as soon as she arrives."

Ash nodded, but still did not extend his hand. In the background, Gary was visibly struggling not to pound his own forehead into a wall.

Clearly, things were not going the way Navarro envisioned and so he changed courses, signaling his intent with the wave of his hand, which held a smoking cigar. "Well, tell us, Ash," he redirected smoothly, "when do you plan to take on the League?"

"As soon as I have all of my gym badges," he replied stiffly.

"Seems unfair that someone as experienced as you should have to go through the motions," Joaquín de Levincia groused ingratiatingly, "perhaps we can make arrangements for an exception to be made for you."

"I like to do things the right way."

A quick burst of air issued from Navarro's prominent nose. "Anything to drink?" he tried again.

"Um, is there soda?"

Gary really wanted to slam his face into something. Ash had as much social suave as a Magikarp on the battlefield. Carmen, meanwhile, seemed to find this incredibly amusing.

"Wow, I had no idea he was a social virgin," she whispered into Gary's ear.

"Oh, he's more than a social virgin..."

Navarro appeared to be sensing Ash's lack of tact, as he quickly decided to move straight to the point rather than prolonging this torture. "We would very much like to see you win the Paldean League, Mr. Ketchum. It might be interesting to see a new Champion organize the region's affairs."

Ash looked troubled. "Well, it doesn't necessarily work like that, right?"

"If the Champion is beaten, they are dethroned," Fernando explained, speaking rather languidly, like an actor repeating a stale part. "But you don't necessarily have to take the place of La Primera. The governors can appoint a new Champion by a unanimous vote."

For some reason, Ash did not find that exactly comforting.

"And," Ash coughed, trying to force himself to stay in the conversation. Serena's words—her belief that he may be able to find information that others can't—encouraged him, "why would you want to dethrone Geeta?"

"Ah," Deigo García raised a knowing finger, "and you hit the heart of the matter."

There was a snap of a camera and a flash. Ash shook his head, a little disoriented.

"Well, for one," Navarro resumed before taking a deep breath from his cigar. The following words rode on clouds of smoke and scented leaves, "she is not liked. She does not work well with others, finding herself to be so 'high-minded' that she believes her judgments are best. But more than that," Navarro offered a tolerant smile, "she hates my company."

"Does she have a reason to?" Ash asked carefully, holding a delicate glass of some bubbly drink—that he knew was not soda—awkwardly in his hands. He had no idea how he'd ended up with it.

Navarro's expression turned solemn and he continued in a cadence that asked for the listener to believe every syllable. "I'm sure you've heard plenty of rumors, Ash. But I wish to extend an offer to engage in a…candid dialogue, where I might clear up the reality of the situation. If you are open to it, maybe we can talk further."

"Okay…," Ash worked his jaw over the word, conflicted. He felt as though an oppressive cloud was hanging over him and this conversation. He wanted out. Or at least a break. He really didn't even know what he was doing. He didn't belong here. He was no good here—no use.

And just when the young champion felt as though something in him were about to snap, Ash heard ripples of sighs rise from the crowd.

She entered the ballroom the same way starlight slips in through the clouds only after every other light has been diminished.

The guests were momentarily transfixed, captivated by the stunning vision before them. "The Kalos Queen," they whispered, leaning in closer to their companions, murmuring hushed accolades, standing in silent reverence, smiling and sighing, "How lovely…" as those particularly moved lifted their shoulders and dropped their eyes as if startled by something extraordinary.

Serena walked into the ballroom and beamed upon the crowd with a dazzling smile. Her chiffon dress—the light sapphire gown that matched and magnified the clear blue of her eyes—clung and flowed in all the right places while the fitted bodice wrapped around her like soft waves of fabric before transitioning into a floor-length skirt with a thigh-high slit. Sheer sleeves romantically billowed around her, whisper-thin and diaphanous, catching the light with each subtle movement, suggesting delicate wings or gossamer threads.

As she walked, the sheer silk cascaded in gentle ripples, mimicking the tranquil flow of a serene stream, while the slit in her gown offered just a glimpse of her poised stride. She was so lovely, that not only did she not show a trace of vanity, but on the contrary, she appeared shy of her unquestionable and all too victorious beauty. In fact, she suddenly wished, but seemed unable to, diminish its effect.

Flanking the honey-blonde, Delphox shared in the attention, her fiery brush-like tail gently swaying, flames intentionally dancing at the tip to provide a certain effect. The Pokémon's keen eyes scanned the room, her presence a protective yet elegant complement to Serena's own. Kathi-Grace too walked by the Kalos Queen's side, her role as both friend and manager clear in her proud posture. She was attentive to the reactions around them, her eyes darting from one astonished face to another, ensuring that Serena's entrance was as seamless as it was breathtaking.

"Por todos los santos…" someone whispered.

The moment she had entered, Ash's senses honed in on her with an intensity that made the rest of the room fade into a mere backdrop. The ambient noise—the chatter, the laughter, the clinking of glasses, the subtle strains of music, the low voices—all of it dwindled into a distant, muffled and tunneled echo. It was as if a spotlight had been cast solely on Serena, and in that light, nothing else could compete.

She became the focal point of his entire world. Ash felt a sudden tightness in his chest—his breath hitched, his pulse quickened, racing to a tempo that took flight in his stomach. There was a warmth that bloomed in his chest, spreading through his veins like fire tearing through the muscles along his shoulders and down his arms, holding him in place, yet urging him forward.

He was barely aware of the people brushing past, those also drawn to her—admiring her. But for Ash, it was different. She wasn't just a beautiful girl making a grand entrance; she was Serena, and in her eyes, he sought to anchor himself to her with the all-too familiar warmth and understanding that had always felt like coming home.

And just like on the night he first saw her in Paldea, Ash's eyes willed for her to find him.

And again she did.

He really didn't know how it was possible, but Serena smiled an even more radiant smile—it was the smile of a perfectly beautiful girl.

With a slight rustle of her dress, with a gleam of gold-glossed hair, and sparkling diamonds, Serena took just one step towards Ash and then paused, not looking at anyone else. The glamor of a ballroom soon centered itself around her.

The crowd began to press closer to her. Photographers angled for her attention, their cameras clicking a rhythm that matched the pounding in Ash's chest. Socialites with rehearsed smiles and hungry eyes leaned in, each desiring a moment of her time, a fragment of her light. They wanted introductions, they wanted pictures, they wanted her grace to reflect on them, even if just for a second.

But Ash, his body oriented towards her as naturally as a plant towards the sun, was oblivious to them. His eyes tracked her movements, not wanting to miss anything—a look, a moment. His ears picked out her voice, a sound he'd search for in a storm, one he'd follow anywhere.

Perched on Ash's shoulder, Pikachu was having a hard time holding on—tossed side to side by the subtle yet erratic shifts in Ash's stance, each minute adjustment betraying his nervous energy. After a little while, the Electric-type had had enough and hopped off, shaking his head at his hopeless trainer.

Now, Navarro was not stupid. The CEO, arguably abandoned mid-conversation, could not blame Ash for his suddenly distracted state and Eduardo suffered no offense. Instead, he watched carefully as Ash lost all semblance of composure, and a sudden train of thought entered the CEO's mind. Eduardo stole a glance at his wife, who also stood admiring the Kalos Queen among the other wives and ladies.

"Guillermo," Diego García turned to the contest professor and tilted his head towards Serena.

Lebarón appeared a bit tense, his full lips tightening, but he nodded in acquiescence, moving away towards Serena.

Meanwhile, Gary watched with gritted teeth at the machinations at play. He had a bad feeling about all of this. Ash's mind was still in la la land, clearly oblivious to all the movement. Seriously, the guy might as well just scream "I love you!" across the room. It was embarrassing…

"Come on, Ashy-boy," Gary groaned into his drink, "wake up…"

"My, my," Carmen's dark eyes were taking in every ounce of Ash's dazed expression, and she looked thrilled and alarmed all at once, "you can't hide that look. Joder, the monarch certainly knows how to play it cool." She gave her eyebrows a little pop while her long red acrylics tapped the side of her champagne glass.

Gary quickly wondered how he could slap Ash upside the head and make it look like an accident.

However, at the sight of Guillermo moving through the crowd towards Serena, Ash might as well have been punched. Immediately, he snapped out of his daze. The warmth that had enveloped him turned to a searing heat, his glare sharpening into something fierce and protective. He moved into action.

Serena's initial hesitation upon seeing Guillermo's approach was not lost on Ash; he saw the fleeting worry cross her face, a subtle tension in the way she held herself. But then, her eyes found Ash also moving towards her, and all her worry dissolved and melted into an eased smile at the sight of him coming to her. This made Ash grin and he felt the muscles, which had tightened in his neck, release and uncoil at his shoulders while his legs pumped faster.

Sensing the atmosphere shifting, Pikachu made a nimble hop off Ash's shoulders, making his way towards Delphox, who continued to hover behind Serena. The Electric-type moved swiftly between legs and gowns—not before tripping Guillermo and slowing him down—soon arriving beside the Fox Pokémon, sharing a look of understanding as they both kept a watchful eye on their respective partners.

Ash reached Serena first, effectively blocking and cutting off Guillermo's protests. The honey-blonde then felt Ash's hand envelope hers and he pulled her closer, his amber eyes bearing into hers as if to anchor them to him.

Suddenly, there was no one else in the room.

"Dance with me."

*femme la plus seduisante de…a little nod to a Tolstoy character

Again, I know, I know, I know…this chapter was plot heavy and a little self-indulgent, etc. etc. ;) but I hope to indulge all of you early next week.

Next chapter and final chapter of Part I will be Tuesday(4/16) night or Wednesday morning (4/17)