Cashe slept late the next morning, exhausted both mentally and physically from the previous day. His legs ached, sending little bursts of pain through his body whenever he moved. Why turning his head to check the time made his legs hurt was unclear to him, he just knew that it did.
Hatenna was still asleep when he got up, tucking between the sheets beside him. Cashe returned her to her ball without waking her up. She had a big day, too, with (unknowingly) getting kidnapped and meeting several new people.
Cashe nearly tripped over the tuxedo that lay on the floor, causing him to grumble at his own carelessness. He would need to get the damn thing dry cleaned if he ever wanted to wear it again. Looking at the tuxedo, his mind wandered to the previous night and he rubbed his face with his hands.
He didn’t want to think about last night. He didn’t want to remember the touch of her hands or the warmth of her breath. He didn’t want to feel the hope he felt. Or the sorrow. Or the guilt.
Cashe showered and dressed - not in the tuxedo - before heading out to breakfast. Lindon was already there, sitting at the table they usually used. He was eating a big bowl of fruit and noticed Cashe as he was in line, waving him over. Cashe joined with his own big bowl of fruit, glad that he did not accidentally order the porridge again.
“How’s Hatenna?” Lindon asked, looking up from his bowl as Cashe sat down.
“She’s sleepy,” Cashe said, stifling a yawn.
“You’re sleepy,” Lindon grinned. He craned his neck, searching the trainer’s cafeteria, “Where’s Emilia? I thought she would be with you.”
Cashe took a big bite of fruit before answering, chewing as he mulled over how to answer the question. “She’s probably nervous for her match.” He said, “I bet she went to the stadium early.”
“She must be really nervous,” Lindon said, “She normally eats with me.”
Cashe glanced at Lindon. The kid was attempting to get three grapes in his spoon at once and failing at it. He caught Cashe staring at him and gave him a confused look.
“What?”
There was no way he was that subtle.
Cashe shook his head, “It’s nothing.”
“Okay.” Lindon returned to his grapes.
Cashe took another few bites from his fruit bowl, chewing slowly. “Hey, Lindon.”
“Yeah?”
“Is it weird to ask someone twenty years younger than me for advice?”
Lindon looked up from his bowl, excitement clear in his expression, “Apollo, are you going to ask me for advice?”
Cashe looked away, “Maybe.”
Lindon put down his spoon, mouth twitching as he fought to keep an eager grin from his face. He failed. “Advice about what?”
“A friend,” Cashe said.
“Is it Emilia?”
“Maybe.”
“I think it has to be,” Lindon said with a self-assured nod, “You don’t have any other friends beside me.”
Cashe grimaced at the blunt statement. The kid definitely was not that subtle.
“I had an awkward interaction with her,” Cashe said. He made a face, “Now I am confused about how to handle it. I’m worried that when I talk to her it might hurt our friendship. I don’t think she’ll like what I have to say. But if I don’t talk to her about it, things will get more complicated the next time it comes up and we might end up fighting again or ruining our friendship altogether.”
“Ooh,” Lindon nodded again, this time like a sage, “I understand completely.”
“You do?” Cashe tried not to look too dubious, “You know what I’m talking about?”
“Of course,” Lindon said, “It could not be more obvious.”
Cashe groaned. “How?”
“Because I had the same problem,” Lindon said.
“What?”
“And the answer is easy, Ashley showed me how to fix it.”
“Ashley?”
“Yup. She’s really cool,” Lindon nodded, “She said, “Just cheer for him anyway.” So I did, and it worked.”
“Uh, Lindon-”
“It’s hard when you are out of the tournament and she is still in it,” Lindon continued, “But even if you feel bad or jealous, you should just cheer for her anyway, because she’s your friend and that’s what friends do.”
“Lindon, I’m not-” Cashe stopped and frowned, “Wait, you weren’t going to cheer for me?”
Lindon’s impression of a wise fan fell away, replaced with a guilty look, “No?”
“Why not?” Cashe said, surprised to find the admission hurt a little.
“Because I didn’t bet on you!” Lindon said, “It’s weird to cheer for someone you didn’t bet on. That’s like cheering against yourself.”
“You didn’t bet on me?” Cashe said, “You bet on Marcus?”
“I was right, right?” Lindon crossed his arms, “I still cheered for you, even though It meant I would have lost a lot of points.”
“What the hell?” Cashe perplexed, “What else did you bet on?”
Lindon bit his lip, “Nothing.”
“You did! Was it that Bulbasaur would evolve?”
Lindon shook his head.
“It was! And you didn’t tell me?” Cashe was laughing now, “You little soothsayer! How many points did you get?”
“A lot.” Lindon looked down at his bowl of fruit, “But I almost lost a lot. I thought you won when Ivysaur evolved. I bet that he would evolve only after the battle was over.”
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
“God dammit, you little shit,” Cashe muttered under his breath, “But you cheered for me anyway?” Cashe said aloud.
“Well, not once you lost,” Lindon said, “When you lost I cheered for myself.”
***
Cashe was taking Lindon’s advice and cheering for Emilia. It was good advice, if not exactly what he was looking for at the time.
He and Lindon sat in their usual seats adjacent to the stadium. The arena was packed full, every seat filled for the final battle. The crowd cheered and screamed at every word and speculation from the announcer as he boomed over the sound system.
The cardboard cutouts of faces were back, this time an entire section each holding a small piece of Emilia’s face. They thrust the signs in the air at the same time, creating a slightly disjointed image wiggling precariously in the stands. They flipped the signs over and Emilia’s face changed into Marcus’s. At least no one was being left out.
Neither finalist was in the arena yet and production assistants scurried around the edges of the stage, preparing for their arrival. Official Borek gathered the Kadabra in a tight circle under the hot sun, giving them last minute instructions before the battle could begin.
As Cashe watched, the announcer stopped talking and the crowd hushed, taking their cue from the shifting employees on stage and the Kadabra getting into position.
At the far end of the stadium, smoke began to gather. It took only a few seconds for the crowd to notice, noise rising with the audience’s excitement. Lights danced from within the smoke, an array of colors flashing in kaleidoscopic patterns until it solidified in an instant, dying the smoke bright red.
“From the far off reaches of Cianwood City,” the announcer intoned, “Comes a trainer who holds the hopes of an entire region on his back.”
A cheer swept through the stadium as people realized who would arrive from the red tunnel.
“He has fought some of the most vicious, hard won, and closest battles of the entire tournament,” the announcer continued, excitement tinging his voice, “He has employed strategy and brute force in equal measure, bringing low even the mightiest of opponents, he is the shining light of Violet City Pokemon Academy, our first challenger, MARCUS DAYE!”
The stadium roared, the crowd launching to their feet as Marcus emerged from the smoke. He was in his ‘adventuring’ gear, bandolier of pokeballs strapped across his chest, waving to the crowd and smiling. To Cashe’s eyes, the smile projected on the giant screens above the stage was tight and strained.
Marcus marched into the battle arena, coming to a halt at the edge of the battlefield. Attention immediately moved from him to the empty tunnel closest to Cashe. Smoke appeared there as well, but there was no dancing light. In a flash and an explosion of noise that made Cashe flinch from its force, Emilia appeared.
She stood, hands on hips, glaring in disapproval down at her opponent. She was in a white, sleeveless yoga top and her tight cargo pants - her standard battle outfit. The crowd redoubled its cheering, nearly deafening Cashe where he stood. But he couldn’t blame them, he was cheering, too.
“His opponent needs no introduction,” the announcer boomed, no rising excitement in his voice now, he could only match the crowd with overwhelming approval, “She is part of the most fearsome family of trainers in all of Kanto, and she was always the true favorite to take the whole tournament! She carries the weight of heaven defying expectation on her shoulders, and she carries it well. She has rolled through every opponent in the tournament without even the slightest upset, she is the number one ranked trainer at the whole tournament! She is EMILIA OAK!”
Emilia stepped forward and the crowd lost its mind. It was so loud, Lindon covered his ears even as he shouted. It was so loud Cashe could not even feel his own voice leave his throat as he screamed his approval with the rest of the stadium. To their screams, Emilia marched the length of the stadium, indifferent to the attention, each step punctuation her presence with an unyielding resolve. She stopped at the edge of the battlefield and crossed her arms. She looked angry, as if disrespected in some way.
The barriers went up. Kadabra moved with practiced ease as they lifted their arms in unison, bringing the transparent shields into existence. The stadium grew even louder as the barriers reflected the noise. The official was already speaking with Marcus, eager as the crowd to get the battle on its way. Moments later he was with Emilia.
Both finalists chose their starting pokemon, releasing them into the arena. The crowd renewed its roar with increased vigor, drowning out the announcer’s voice completely.
Omanyte and Popplio took the stage. Omanyte’s tentacles twitched in anticipation, Popplio shifted in discomfort. Official Borek raised his hand high in the air. The entire crowd rose in volume as his hand reached the sky.
His hand swiped down. The battle began.
On screen and battlefield, Marcus barked an order to his Popplio. She gathered blue energy around her mouth and fired off a stream of water at Omanyte.
Emilia ignored it. As did Omanyte. The water slammed into Omanyte, splashing off her shell like it was fired from a child’s water gun and not from a pokemon and with the force of a firehose.
Marcus’s face twisted in confusion and dismay at the ineffective attack.
Cashe burst out in a short guffaw of laughter, “That was Protect!” He shouted, his voice lost in the tumult of the crowd. The barrier was tiny, created with the minimum amount of energy required and erected only an inch from Omanyte’s shell to give the impression that the attack struck home, but magnified on the giant screen above the combatant's heads, Cashe could tell it did not.
He laughed again, this time in awe of Emilia’s preparation. He had confessed to spying on her for weeks to prepare for a match against her. He now realized his efforts had been nothing, his confession worthless.
He had not known Omanyte knew Protect. He had not seen it once in his months of travels with Emilia. She had not used it a single time in battle, all the way to the finals. Just to trick her opponent. Just to trick him.
In the half second gained from stunning Marcus with Omanyte’s defensive prowess, Emilia gave an order. Omanyte began to move, twisting her tentacles in a strange rhythm and shifting across the battlefield. The arena darked, the sun obstructed by something.
Cashe looked up, taking his eyes off the battle for a split second. Clouds were forming out of thin air, incredibly low in the sky. Soon the stadium was covered in a thick layer of shadow. Dark splotches began to appear on the stage, the result of incoming rain.
Rain Dance. Omanyte knew Rain Dance. It was another move pulled out of nowhere, one that Cashe had no inkling of being part of Emilia’s arsenal. On the battlefield, Marucs looked just as surprised as Cashe was, especially when Omanyte decided to move.
Omanyte’s speed instantly doubled. It was Swift Swim, it had to be. She moved faster than Cashe had ever seen her move, darting through the battlefield as Marcus recovered from his shock and ordered Pollio to attack. Beams of water flashed across the battlefield as Popplio tried to strike Omanyte, but it was to no avail. Emilia’s positioning was too strong, Omanyte too fast.
Cashe didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. He had wanted to battle Emilia seriously in the finals, to test his mettle against her might and find out who was stronger. But this left no question. Cashe did not just misunderstand Omanyte’s movepool, he hadn’t even known her ability.
Emilia was cementing the previous pronouncement in the minds of every single audience member around the world. Like nails in a coffin she pounded the facts into their minds.
She was the strongest of the tournament.
She was the strongest of her class.
She was the strongest of her generation.
Her anger suddenly made sense. The announcer’s claim that she was the best in the tournament was insulting. It was too small.
Cashe had no doubt she would not stop until the final nails were there with the rest: she was the strongest in her family. In the world.
As Omanyte moved, she formed rocks in the air, tossing them at Popplio. Some were the enormous stones of Rock Tomb and came crashing down on Popplio’s head, the tiny seal pokemon blasting them apart with jets of water or dodging to the side with careful use of Aqua Jet. Others were tossed with blazing speed, the rocks containing the recognizable sheen of Ancient Power - another move Cashe had never seen Omantye use previously.
There was no offense for Marcus and Poplio now, their only option was to dodge and hope Emilia led Omanyte into a poor position or over extended in order to finish the battle more quickly. Even that was a poor plan, with Popplio taking glancing blow after glancing blow, wearing her down until she was unable to move fast enough to dodge.
Marcus was aware of her injuries, forcing Popplio to stop dodging and counter with attacks of her own. She blasted stone valiantly with her attacks, each powered up by the presence of the rain. She could only do so much, however, and Popplio began to flag. As this happened, Omanyte appeared even faster than before, her attacks becoming more powerful. An attack got through Popplio’s defense, a solid hit.
A rock from Rock Tomb crashed through a jet of water, Marcus directing Popplio’s attention to it a moment too late for her to react in time. The attack was the final blow, crushing Popplio beneath it and causing Official Borek to take the field, stopping the battle so Marcus could recall his pokemon.
Cashe let out a breath he did not know he was holding, stunned at the display of skill Emilia put on for them.
The stadium announcer’s voice came over the loudspeakers, echoing a thought in the head of every man, woman, and child watching the battle
“What just happened?”
*****