CHAPTER 26

The next day, Denzel and I made our way north of town to the meadow, where hundreds of trainers were waiting, and more were on the way. Dozens of adults were helping with the event setup, checking in trainers, arranging food and drink, or setting up bleachers. There were six makeshift battlefields demarcated on the ground, with their edges marked by four poles, and some news crews were even interviewing a few trainers.

Denzel and I handed in our trainer IDs, and we were officially checked in. The way the tournament would work is that we would all draw numbers and be matched against random trainers until there were only sixteen trainers left. From there, the round of sixteen would take place tomorrow, and we’d go all the way up to finals. I felt butterflies in my stomach, excited at the opportunity to be experiencing this with so many trainers. I quickly went to draw my number, which ended up being 56. Denzel pulled number 92, meaning we wouldn’t be fighting each other in the first round. The matches would start at the lowest number, so we decided to grab some water and go take a seat on the bleachers while waiting for our turn, but we were accosted by a green-haired lady with a microphone and a cameraman wearing an orange cap and a tank top.

“Excuse me, Ms. Pastel and Mr. Williams? As one of the few trainers in this tournament already in possession of a badge, how confident are you going into it? Do you have any advice for any trainers struggling out there?”

I drew a sharp breath and glanced at Denzel. Trainers around us began to stare, clearly surprised about what the lady had just said.

“Um, I don’t—”

“We’re good, thank you,” Denzel said. “No interviews.”

He pushed me along toward the bleachers.

The news reporter clicked her tongue, muttering something about children nowadays before going on the prowl for another unsuspecting interviewee.

“Denzel, you didn’t have to do that,” I told him. “I know you wanted to answer. Your dream—”

“Can wait. You were a nervous wreck as soon as you saw the camera. I would rather my friend be comfortable than go on some no-name television station. The big shots won’t be covering the first day of the tournament. I’ll be fine.”

“Thanks,” I just said before taking a sip of water.

As I sat, I couldn’t help but notice Cecilia Obel and her group sitting a row in front of us, to our left. I kept staring at her until the first battles started. Maybe she would reveal her third Pokemon today? I released Elekid so he could watch. Luckily he didn’t have any electricity stored in his fur this time, so he sat on my lap. He was observing the battles very attentively, foregoing his usual energetic behavior to focus on every move. Unfortunately, since there were six battles going on at once, we were only able to watch one at a time. Most Pokemon we saw were clearly low leveled and inexperienced. I couldn’t help but micro-analyze the way each trainer fought, trying to find a weakness in case I ever came up against them. For example, an older-looking trainer kept making his Lotad use Ice Beam— a move the small Pokemon clearly didn’t master and obviously learned via TM. Even if TMs taught your Pokemon a move, it was always barebones at first, and you needed to practice with it like any other move. Case in point, the poor Lotad was incapable of aiming the move and kept being flung back by its force. It was quickly taken out by the enemy Doduo.

Eventually, the first member of Cecilia’s group had to battle. With a smug expression, Louis Bianchi flicked his blond hair back and stepped into the arena. With a coin flip, it was decided that his opponent would send his Pokemon out first. She sent out a Monferno and steadied herself. The fire type grunted and put his fists up.

“That’s Maeve Chang. She’s a frequent forum browser, we’ve interacted a few times online. I had no idea she was here,” Denzel muttered to me.

Louis Bianchi grinned and sent out a Gible. Gasps ran through the crowd of trainers, although some already knew he had one— including me. He was arguably the most famous trainer in the Circuit right now, given his status as a billionaire heir and his extremely rare Pokemon. Dragon type trainers were always seen with envy or admiration, but owning a Gible went beyond that. That line was synonymous with Cynthia. Wherever she was seen, Garchomp quietly followed behind her.

“Think she stands a chance?” I asked.

“Well, she has the Coal badge like us, but against a dragon, it’s hard to say,” Denzel said.

The referee slashed his hand across the air and blew his whistle. The battle had begun.

Maeve immediately sprung to action. “Monferno, get in close, and then Mach Punch!”

“Destroy that runt, Gible!” Louis yelled.

Gible opened its mouth at an angle that shouldn’t have been possible as blue and yellow flames accumulated in its mouth. Unfortunately, Monferno was already there and delivered a strong Mach Punch to its gut. Gible slid across the grass, releasing whatever attack that was. Monferno didn’t have to be told to dodge, and he quickly sidestepped the flames.

“Grab it and bombard it with Ember!” She continued.

Monferno grunted and ran on all fours, approaching Gible at ridiculous speeds. He seized the Gible and put him in the air before bits of flames rushed out of its mouth. Gible screeched at the burns and started thrashing around.

“What are you doing?! Get him!” Louis screamed, stomping his foot against the ground. “Use your Sand Tomb!”

I felt sand and dirt gather around us, rushing toward the battle and surrounding the two Pokemon. It slowly spun around them, until it completely obscured them from view.

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“Get back, Monferno!” Maeve ordered.

Monferno dropped the Gible, who lazily left the mini-sandstorm as if nothing had happened. The attack stuck to Monferno no matter where he ran, continuously wearing it down.

“Finally! Now finish it with your Dragon Rage,” Louis said.

Gible spat out that same blue flame out of his mouth, and now that Monferno couldn’t see, this first battle was a done deal. The fire type quickly went down, as Pokemon often did against dragon type attacks. Maeve shook her head and sent out her second Pokemon, a Staryu. The star-shaped Pokemon jumped and spun around, clearly excited to battle.

“Staryu, you’re the last one! Hit ‘em with a Psybeam!” Maeve said.

“Use the same tactic, Gible.”

Gible grunted, and sand began to gather around Staryu as multicolored rings of energy hit its flank. The dragon cried out in pain, but he just wouldn’t go down.

“Use Rapid Spin to disperse his attack! Then Psybeam again!”

Staryu began to float and rotated faster than the eye could see, and the sand slowly began to disappear. Gible opened its maw again and screamed out another Dragon Rage, which clipped one of Staryu’s arms as it dodged. The star-shaped Pokemon sent out another Psybeam, which Gible didn’t even bother to dodge.

“Take Down! Get in close and finish this!”

Gible turned and snapped at his trainer as blue flames wreathed in its mouth. Louis squealed and fell backward, shielding his face with his hands. Gible turned back and threw out the Dragon Rage he was building. Maeve had been too stunned by what had just happened to issue an order, but Staryu countered with a Water Gun, meeting the move head-on. The high-pressure jet of water wasn’t enough to stop the flames, and Staryu went down after being hit a second time.

“You’re pathetic. Only winning because your daddy gave you a Gible,” The girl scoffed as she returned her Pokemon. “If you were anyone else I would have won.”

She walked off toward Floaroma, presumingly back to the Pokemon Center. Louis yelled out some obscenities at her, asking if she knew who he was and that he’d have her disqualified from the Circuit, but she just flipped him off without even turning her head.

“Yikes,” I said. “He’s a terrible trainer.”

“Yeah, he only won because of how good Gible was. That thing is a little juggernaut, I don’t think I’d win against it,” Denzel replied.

I watched Bianchi as he returned to his group with a scowl. “I think I could win, I said. No, I know I could.”

“You have a plan?”

“I have a plan and a fairy type,” I grinned. “But I can’t be sure I’ll be fighting him anyway, so it’s just a backup. I’ve been making rudimentary plans for most of the trainers I’ve seen win.”

“Scary…” Denzel whispered.

“I heard you!”

I hit his shoulder playfully, and he chuckled. “But anyway, this kind of tactic doesn’t work for that long. The further along he gets, the less battles he’ll win like this.”

“I’m surprised it even worked against Roark,” I said.

“I watched his battle, Gible just overwhelmed everything Roark threw at it. Dragon Rage is a move that bypasses a Pokemon’s defenses, so no matter how bulky his rock types were, they always went down in two or three attacks.”

I nodded as we watched the next battle, and then the next. Soon enough, it was my turn. I left Elekid with Denzel and they wished me good luck. I was fighting one of Obel’s people— Pauline King was her name if I remembered correctly. We stood at opposite sides of the arena, and I picked tails, meaning I’d have to send our my Pokemon first. I was surprisingly not nervous like I had been at Roark’s gym. I was still a tiny weeny bit nervous, but it was nowhere near debilitating. It was the kind of nervousness that kept you sharp and on your toes. I grabbed my first Pokeball and sent out Togetic. My opponent sent out a huge Charmeleon, meaning Extrasensory was out.

The referee blew his whistle.

“Keep your distance and Fairy Wind,” I called out.

“Ember!”

Togetic playfully floated upward as a pink wind gathered around her, and then swung toward the Charmeleon. The flames flying toward her dissipated or strayed out of the way, and the wind hit the fire type at full speed. Pauline King flinched when it reached her, but it dissipated right before hitting her. Charmeleon screeched and laid flat against the ground to stop itself from flying off.

“Keep. It. Going,” I slowly said.

Togetic spun around and chirped happily as storm-like winds kept battering the Charmeleon.

Pauline clicked her tongue and groaned. “This is unfair!” I could barely hear her with the wind. It seemed like the only long-distance move her Pokemon had was Ember, and it was clearly useless here. She tried everything she could, but eventually, the Charmeleon passed out and flew off before she recalled it in its Pokeball midair.

“You battle like a crook,” Pauline said.

“Huh? I’m just using strategy…” I answered, embarrassed. “Sorry.”

“Shut up!” She yelled, sending out a Gothita.

Perfect time to test out Ancient Power, I thought.

“Psybeam! Hit it out of the sky!”

“Shake her off with Extrasensory, then Ancient Power,” I ordered.

The first multicolored psychic energy beam hit Togetic, but the second never did. Togetic’s eyes turned blue as she kept making the Gothita do sudden movements, throwing off her aim. She flew downward, barely hovering above the ground. Chunks of rocks and earth were lifted off the ground and thrown toward the small Gothita. They weren’t as large as Roark’s Carbink’s, but they would do the job. Gothita tried to dodge, but she was too small, and one of the rocks crushed her small body. Pauline quickly returned her.

I let out a sigh of relief. That had gone pretty well, but Togetic still needed to work on her mid-air dodging, and she was fooling around too much while battling, making unnecessary movements. I was all for her having fun, but it’d be good to shake off the habit now so that when I was in more important battles—

“You’re a lowlife who can’t fight fair and square. I know your name, I’ll have my friends make your life a living hell,” She whispered as she passed me.

I frowned. That was an extreme reaction to a loss in a battle, but I thought nothing of it. If anything happened, I would report it to League officials. Either way, Denzel congratulated me when I came back with a high five, and Elekid looked more excited than ever to battle.