An Exhibition match.

Something that was used to highlight the abilities of two trainers without anything of worth at stake. Merely reputation. They’re supposed to be used to highlight the trainers. Bolster attention and bring revenue for the League with television rights.

You only got offered Exhibition matches in certain instances. Matches could be set up between gyms. Between Elite Four. Or sometimes if you were an Elite trainer, with enough of a following, and you wanted more attention you could set up an Exhibition match. These were the ones that people typically knew of when asked about Exhibition matches. Charities could, and did, set up matches for trainers to take part in. Corporations sponsored tournaments with advertising and ludicrous titles or prizes on offer. People watched them avidly, and a good showing could see support building. Or it could do the opposite if you crumbled under the spotlight.

Merely reputation.

I lay in bed considering that for a good long while. I liked to think I was a pretty relaxed guy. In another life, I might have been a water bender for wanting to just go with the flow. Family had meaning to me, nothing like a certain infamous street car racer, but it was still important.

I kept thinking back to that moment of silence and how aware I had become of it. I scrutinized it so much that I could almost paint a picture of each of my sibling's reactions as they understood what had happened. Even my youngest siblings had been aware to some degree that something had occurred. Something significant enough to see them go quiet.

My mindset often worked the wrong way with this world. The Pokeverse followed certain anime tropes you could even say. Calling someone out as weak was a direct challenge. There were more people around that would fire invectives and denials before demanding an instant battle with pokemon.

There were more hot-blooded people out there then there were calm rational types. I liked to think I was the latter. I wanted to simply roll over and ignore this. It shouldn’t bother me if Lance was hot-headed and prideful. He was a Dragon Master. With the training he probably underwent, there would have been a greater shock if he was controlled and reserved in his mannerisms.

Ideally, the Champion was supposed to be someone that was looked up to by all the young trainers. An example for all to aspire to while standing as a shield against criminal elements. They represented the best of the League. In this case that meant the Johto-Kanto region. Or as it was more widely known. The Indigo League.

When powerful pokemon rampaged that caused emergency situations, Lance and the Elite four were the best responders. Not necessarily the first. That typically came down to roaming pokemon trainers. Then Gym trainers if it was within their shire.

The world of Pokemon wasn’t always fun and games. So far, I had only been called in for such situations twice, but both felt more like natural disaster containment than merely pokemon battles.

The best of the pokemon world. That’s what the Elite Four and the Champion were supposed to be. To a lesser degree, this applied to the gym leaders of course, but we were more like favorite local trainers. It was rare that other cities favored another's leader over their own. Loyalty like that was almost taught at the schools. Not formally of course, but word of mouth had more impact than a lot of people understood. Repeat words enough and they held a place in people’s minds. Back that up with actions? Gym Leaders were celebrity super cops in a way. It was a poor analogy, I was aware, but it merely highlighted how nothing in the original earth had anything quite like being a Gym Leader.

Heck, I’d even heard versus debates about gym leaders versus different regions. Maybe it even went as far as war deterrents or guarantees. That was something I never really liked to consider. Not many did.

The Indigo region hadn’t always been one region after all. It was only through bloodshed and war that unity had been forged roughly thirty years ago. Surprisingly few people had first-hand experience with those fights. Then again, unsurprisingly, few survived when Pokemon and Elites threw down.

Nowadays, things are different. It hadn’t even been taught all that much at school. There was a lot more to it of course but that wasn’t my issue right now. Everything running through my mind was just a distraction.

I had to deal with an upcoming match with Lance.

Had this happened to the Canon Brock? I tossed it over. I needed to get out of that mindset. The emergence of what was supposed to be canon was plaguing me, and it was pushing my thoughts away from the real issue at hand.

Lance had called me weak on live television.

Meh, so what? I’ve had worse from worse. I knew I had a thick skin in more than the literal sense. So what if Lance didn’t think anything of the gym? So what?

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

That got a twitch from me. Alright, so I liked what I had done. But that shouldn’t be enough to keep me up at night. I’ve been in pressure situations before. Could it be that it didn’t just affect me?

Who else would his declaration affect?

My Gym trainers for sure. The sponsored trainers as well would face scorn for this. Pewter gym had gotten slapped with the title of ‘weakest’. That stung. I worked hard as a trainer. For that, I wanted him to apologize. But that wouldn’t be enough would it?

I played with that thought. That niggling thought. Lance’s apology wouldn’t be enough.

You couldn’t retract words like that. You had to do something. What would be an appropriate reaction though?

I recalled the quietness of my siblings. They’d looked stricken. Ashamed and saddened. I ground my teeth remembering that. The way they’d looked down and away. They had been so excited before that. Then that energy had been sucked away. When I’d voiced my own nonchalance they’d not believed me.

The sting in my chest got worse. So that was probably a big factor. My family didn’t think I could do it. They were some of my most diehard supporters and they had been stunned into silence. It hurt more than just my pride as a trainer, I could handle that, the wound to my pride as a big brother though? I was their rock. Their shelter from the storm. And they thought I’d not be enough.

Something within my chest wanted to burst out, march to the top of Mt Moon and roar out a challenge with bloody hands thumping on my chest while lightning crackled overhead.

I snorted at that before toying with the idea. It was entertaining in a manner that relaxed my snarling spitting hindbrain. It made me smile. Slowly my body unclenched, and slowly sleep took hold. That night I dreamt I was an Onix, surging out of the earth to snatch up a bird of some sort in my maw before disappearing into the cool earth. I woke up and knew what I needed to do.

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I did my normal morning rituals, if I was a touch sharper in my actions training with my pokemon, no one commented. Some of the pokemon merely stepped forward with more eagerness. Pokemon were typically marvellous battle junkies after all. It was their way. I used that to work through my frustrations alongside a plan. Then I stepped into my cave and walked up to the towering form of my Starter.

“Hey Titan, something happened—” I talked through it with my starter and he listened. He probably didn’t understand all of it, but the act of talking through my thoughts helped. He was a good listener. Grumbling in anger with me when I was annoyed and he gave a large fanged grin when I laid out my plan.

Then I left his cave before frowning when I noticed Forrest wasn’t out doing his chores. I sighed and marched to his room. “Forrest! No sleeping in, you have chores!” He stumbled out blearily. For a moment I considered stopping him then and there, reminding him in some way that I was his big brother and that he should have more faith in me! I let him go instead.

I didn’t need to tell them so much as show them. So I left Forrest to it before marching to the kitchen to feed my siblings. Their quieter, subdued morning antics tugged at my heart and I felt surer than ever of what I was going to have to do. While it wouldn’t be as meaningful, I decided to announce my intentions to them first and foremost.

I clapped my hands. “Hey gang, about last night.” They looked up, some of them with food stuck to their faces but universally all eyes locked on me. I took a pose and gave them a thumbs up. “Your big brother is going to take care of all of this.” The younger kids all grinned, relaxing as I made my declaration. That was enough for them.

The more knowledgeable of them, Salvadore, Yolanda and Forrest bit their lips. I gave them a look and raised a fist towards them one after the other. “Your big brother promises. Big time promises even. I’m going to take care of this.”

They thumped each side of their own fists against my own before giving a hesitant smile. “Alright but you know he’s Lance right?” I didn’t let my smile falter.

I scoffed, “Salvadore! Your lack of faith disturbs me! For that you get to clean the dishes. Yolanda and Forrest! You deal with Tilly and Billy!”

“WHAT!?” came their response as they both shouted at me. “WE DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING!”

“Your betrayal was clear on your faces! I can read minds! It’s a big brother power!” I declared as I marched out before they could voice any more protest. I’d probably need to swing past later to clean up after them, as they’d do a bad job of it in rebellion. I’d just make them have to do it again. It was a learning opportunity, is what I would claim. Character building and such.

I entered my office and activated the computer before toggling a video call. Two windows opened up and a dial tone rang out as I waited. After a few minutes, not a bad waiting period, all things considered, one call connected.

“Little man! Twerp! Ha! I thought you were going to call me. I take it you heard the big bad Lance talking smack last night then?” Said the boisterous voice as on the screen a tanned face leered back at me. His blond tips shot straight upwards in a way that just had to be gelled. I likened it to Guy Fieri.

I inclined my head in the face of his more bombastic greeting “Lieutenant Surge.” I ignored the way the man swelled slightly. He loved being referred to with that title, even above his gym leader title.

“Heh, yeah thinking of talking shop about this, yeah?” I nodded my head again.

“Yeah, I was hoping to get your thoughts but I made this a conference call.”

“Eh who else did you—”

“Gym Leader Brock. Gym Leader Surge.”

I nodded, ignoring Surge’s slight wilting as I looked at my — I supposed ex was most appropriate?— and greeted her, “Gym Leader Sabrina, thank you for taking the call. I need to plan how to demolish him.”