Rika's eyes narrowed, surveying her opponent. "Let's make this quick—I don't have all day." Her tone was merely a facade, an act.

Mason stared at the ground.

That was good.

He shouldn’t figure out what she was really planning.

Yet she felt worried.

That boy couldn't be thinking about giving up, could he?

In the end, her plan would only work if he played along. Did he perhaps have the same intention as her?

"Mason, I want you to take this seriously," Rika said earnestly. "Otherwise, this victory means nothing to me."

Mason only peeked up from the corner of his eyes.

"Are both trainers ready then?" the referee asked, glancing between the two.

Rika clicked her tongue.

Pull yourself together, Mason!

The referee went on, oblivious to Mason's mental state. Here, no one would be handled with kid gloves anymore.

"This is a singles battle, 3v3—both trainers are allowed to swap their Pokémon out once. Mason leads the battle and is granted a second swap in exchange. With that, I declare this match to begin."

So they want to make me sweat, huh?

Having one more swap was certainly worth more than getting to see the opponent's lead.

This probably meant the examiners believed Rika was the stronger trainer—thus giving Mason this small, but noticeable, edge.

But wait… this was actually perfect for her plan.

Now she just had to sell it convincingly.

Convincingly enough for the examiners to believe that someone like Mason could defeat her, the queen of Pokémon battles. What a foolish plan of hers.

Speaking of foolish; the boy still hadn't sent out a Pokémon. He kept looking at one specific Pokéball but kept swapping them around—so much that Rika expected him to eventually lose track their contents.

At least he puts some thought into it.

The whole thing was a battle of information, after all.

However, since Mason only knew one of the three Pokémon Rika could use, and the same applied the other way around aswell, the choice he should make was obvious to her.

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Bidoof…

You have to choose Bidoof!

It was his best possible lead.

This way, he would make the most out of having one more swap by not unnecessarily showing his hand.

If he did just that, Rika could be in trouble—but it was also about luck in a way. If her Pokémons' typings were at an overall disadvantage, or he simply had fitting answers to them, it could mean game over. No matter how much better, smarter, and cooler she was than him—typings mattered. A lot.

Mason might've been stupid, but not when it came to Pokémon. After years of watching the official Pokémon League, something had to stick.

So come on, just show me your Bidoof already. I'll make it work anyway. Let's give them a good show!

Mason, however, seemed eager to prove her wrong.

Rika's eyes widened as the Pokéball burst open, revealing a green, blob-like creature. Her jaw clenched, frustration bubbling up inside her.

A Gulpin? Seriously, Mason?

She fought the urge to facepalm. He should've known that Bedhead could tear that poison-type apart with its eyes closed. It was such an obvious mismatch that she couldn't help but pray there was some kind of strategy behind it. Though, knowing Mason, she doubted it.

Lost in thought, Rika suddenly became aware of the expectant silence. All eyes were on her, waiting. The referee cleared his throat, wordlessly anticipating her Pokémon choice.

Muk! Rika cursed.

She couldn't possibly send out Oddish in this matchup. It would be far too obvious what she was trying to do. And her other random Pokémon? She didn't even know which one it was. She hadn't had time to check it out earlier.

Part of her had feared she'd be wasting too much time if it turned out to be as uncooperative as Oddish. More importantly though, the unknown gave her a handicap—one she desperately needed to ensure her loss seemed genuine.

The examiners—but really, everyone—knew that Rika was miles ahead of Mason's level, especially in battle. It would take a professional actress to make this whole thing seem legit… or perhaps, just an incredibly smart, sharp-minded, and overall talented person.

A slow smile crept across her face as an idea formed.

Subtly, her hand slipped into her pocket, fingers brushing against Oddish's Pokéball. With her other hand, she gripped Bedhead's ball, stretching it forward, ready to release it.

A small twist clockwise was all it took…

In the next moment, a red beam shot out from the Pokéball—the one inside her pocket—right onto the battlefield.

Rika couldn't have been happier. Just minutes ago, they had been arch-enemies, and now, they were about to be besties!

Oddish screeched in anger as it appeared, gazing at her as disgruntled as ever.

Knew it, you little weed. So predictable! Rika chuckled inwardly before catching herself. She had to act angry for this to be believable, furious even.

"Get lost, you potted plant!" she yelled at the Pokémon. "I can't have failures around!"

Oddish glared back, clearly still mad about their earlier encounter. Their shouting match escalated, and Rika was totally in her element until the referee finally intervened, "You've made you choice—or do you want to use your swap already?"

"What?! I have to use that thing now?!" Rika covered her popped open mouth in surprise.

Great! Everything's going according to plan!

But before she could utter another word, a chill ran down her spine. It all broke apart in an instant.

A deadly cold pierced her skin—her whole body.

She felt watched, trapped, unable to escape. Escape from what…?

Red glowing eyes.

They bore into her very soul.

Guilty! You are guilty!

Her heart raced.

Had they seen what she had done?

Would they punish her for it?!

Mr. Rosenfeld stood just feet away from the battlefield, his eyes fixed solely on her.

A fierce breeze whipped into her face, forcing her hand up to shield her eyes.

A storm was approaching.