Chapter 85 - Battle with Ariana the Grunt

Ariana’s laugh echoed in the empty arena. “Oh, Twinkles… nothing to say? I told you. Lose your bite, and you’re no fun anymore!”

Before Celeste could blink, a blur of blackness darted toward her—Ariana’s Murkrow with gleaming eyes and razor-sharp talons aimed straight at her. The rush of wind from his wings brushed her face as she ducked instinctively, clutching Powder’s Pokéball tightly to her chest. Beside her, Pat didn’t hesitate in releasing a jet of water, the spray catching the light as it arced toward the Murkrow. The bird veered away, but his attack had only been a distraction. A sudden force slammed into Celeste’s side. Not Murkrow, but Ariana tackled her with surprising strength, and they tumbled down the steps of the stands and into the battlefield.

Gravel bit into Celeste’s palms as she scrambled to free herself from Ariana’s grip. But her opponent’s fingers clawed at her arms, pinning her down. Gritting her teeth, Celeste drove her knee into Ariana’s stomach. A grunt of pain escaped her adversary’s lips, and the grip loosened.

“Pat!” Celeste shouted. She glanced up just in time to see the Murkrow swooping down towards her. This time she was caught even more off guard, and, with a peck, Rebel made Celeste lose the grip on the Pokéball, which he then snatched with his beak right away. Panic surged. But she didn’t need to say a word.

A wave of psychic energy crackled through the air and shot through the battlefield. Pat’s eyes glowed as he focused his power, enveloping the Murkrow in a shimmering aura. The bird froze mid-flight, wings flapping uselessly against the psychic hold. Pat was ready to throw him away when darkness swirled around Rebel. Against that, there was little a Slowpoke could do, so he just pushed down before the dark energy broke the hold. The Murkrow spiralled towards the ground, crashing into the rocks below.

With that, the Pokéball tumbled away from his grasp.

Celeste’s eyes darted to it, slowly rolling to the side. Ariana, however, didn’t stop to look. Before the ball got far, she was already moving, her eyes fixed on the prize. Ignoring the throbbing pain in her limbs—and the fact that the wound in her forearm had chosen this exact moment to flare out again—Celeste lunged forward, colliding with Ariana and shoving her aside. The impact sent a jolt through her shoulder, but she didn’t care.

“Pat, the ball!” she called out.

On cue, the Pokéball lifted off the ground, wreathed in Pat’s psychic glow, and flew straight into her outstretched hand. Relief washed over her, but it was short-lived. A sudden tug at her ankle yanked her off balance. She hit the ground, Shy’s eyes flashing for a very quick second, just as the Murkrow’s talons sliced through the space where her head had been moments before.

“Protect!” Celeste yelled, keeping her voice as steady as she could.

Not fast, but fast enough, a translucent barrier materialised in front of her, shimmering against the arena’s warm light. The Murkrow screeched to a halt, glaring at her from the other side of the shield. Ariana’s sharp whistle echoed, and the bird retreated, circling overhead.

Breathing hard, Celeste rose to her feet, slipping Powder’s Pokéball deeply and securely into her pocket where no one would reach it. She locked eyes with Ariana, and for a moment, the entire world seemed to narrow.

“You’re Team Rocket,” Celeste said.

Ariana’s lips curved up. “Proudly.”

A heavy silence settled between them, the air thick with unspoken words. Celeste’s mind raced, scrambling for something—anything—to say. A quip? An accusation? None of it would change the truth staring her in the face.

Ariana, the girl she had been hanging out these past few days, was Team Rocket.

That was that.

Olga’s words from not too long ago echoed in her mind: “You have to accept things as they are.”

But how could she accept this? She had crossed paths with Team Rocket three times now. Mount Lanakila. Four Island. And now here. Her stomach twisted. Was this a takeover? Were they everywhere? Or was it simply chance?

Ariana’s smirk lingered, unfazed, like she already knew what Celeste was grappling with. She wasn’t here on a mission, she’d said—just taking a day off after…

After she rescued Ryder.

Celeste’s breath caught in her throat. Ryder. The blizzard. Articuno. He’d escaped. He’d escaped because Ariana went there to rescue him. All of them.

Fuck it.

She bit her lip, pulling herself back from the edge. Ryder wasn’t here. She could deal with that later. Right now, the only person who mattered was Ariana—standing in front of her. Team Rocket through and through.

Celeste believed in people. She believed in giving them a chance, in seeing more than the surface. It’s who she was. And that belief was being tested now, as it had been in the caves and the prison, when Lori let mistrust tear her apart. She wasn’t going to let suspicion get the best of her. No. This wasn’t a takeover by an evil organisation. But it wasn’t chance either.

Three times.

It was as the quote said. “Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is enemy action.”

Not chance, but fate kept pushing her into the path of Team Rocket over and over again, daring her to do something about it.

Ariana took a step closer, eyes gleaming with amusement and challenge. “Quiet now, Twinkles?” she taunted. “Are you scared?”

Celeste’s heart pounded, anger rising. She patted Powder’s ball and let the notion that she would make sure her Vulpix was safe bring her calm. Her mind sharpened. Right now, the Unown didn’t matter. Being stuck in this gym didn’t matter. Fuji didn’t matter.

All that mattered was Ariana.

Ariana and Team Rocket.

If this was fate, then about damn time she rose to it.

Her teeth bared, and she locked eyes with Ariana, every fibre of her being ready for the fight ahead. “Drop the barrier, Pat, Water Gun. Let’s knock this bird off the sky.”

Right away, Pat’s eyes shimmered as the protective barrier wall before them faded. He opened his mouth, unleashing a focused jet of water toward Rebel. The Murkrow cackled, effortlessly darting aside. Pat fired again. Missed. Again. Missed again.

“Too slow!” Ariana taunted, her grin widening. “What’s wrong, Twinkles? Fresh out of ideas? Or what was it you said… Lego pieces?”

Celeste’s fists clenched, her foot tapping restlessly. She could feel the impulse to keep shouting for Water Gun. And the regret for calling the barrier off. What was she to do now? Offence or defence? Did she even have any plan? Maybe she needed patience. Or maybe Ariana was right—she needed her bite, her edge. How could she be patient when she was up against someone so much faster? How should she keep her cool when she needed to keep the pressure? Rebel was quick, too quick for Pat, and she’d known that from the start.

But this was Pat!

They’d been through worse, fought through worse. She wasn’t about to let a few disadvantages stop them. She needed a plan—and by Arceus she’d come up with one.

“Rebel, show them your speed,” Ariana called out before Celeste got out of her head. “Pursuit!”

Dark energy engulfed Rebel as he locked onto Pat. With a burst of shadowy trails, the Murkrow lunged forward, eyes gleaming. Pat tried to move, but the attack was relentless.

“Combo it with Peck!” Ariana commanded, never letting go of that smirk of hers.

Rebel’s beak glowed as he struck, each hit landing with brutal precision. Pat staggered under the onslaught, unable to evade as darkness swirled around them. Celeste’s chest tightened—she was losing, and still no plan had come to her. Damn it. This was exactly what Blaine had warned her about, wasn’t it? But this wasn’t one of Blaine’s gym battles. There was no referee here. No rules. If Pat couldn’t escape the barrage of attacks, then—

“Bud, like when we were running!” Celeste yelled. Through the flurry of Rebel’s attacks, she caught a glimpse of Pat nodding, understanding. Without hesitating, she enlarged his Pokéball in her palms. Just before Rebel’s next strike, she recalled him in a flash of light, and the Murkrow’s beak snapped the rocky terrain beneath, getting stuck.

Ariana laughed sharply. “Running away?”

“Think again.” Celeste’s fingers flew, releasing Pat a few feet away. She didn’t miss a beat. “Protect!” and in a few seconds, a new wall of energy arose before them both. Only when the barrier was already up did Murkorw manage to take flight again.

Ariana laughed. “Twinkles, Twinkles, little star, hides away, won’t get too far. Thinks she’s clever, thinks she’s bright, but crumbles when she has to fight.”

“Poetry?” Celeste almost snorted.

“I’m better than, Gio.”

“You might as well keep singing to pass on the time. You’ve seen us train. We can keep this barrier forever.”

“Is that so?” Ariana’s eyes gleamed as she flicked a glance up at Rebel. “You’re right, I did watch every dull, endless training session with that bug.” Her grin sharpened. “I know your tricks, Celeste—you focus ahead… but what about your back?”

Celeste’s stomach dropped. She followed Ariana’s gaze upward, but Rebel was nowhere in sight. It took a second too long for Ariana’s words to sink in. Pat’s barrier—it was just a flat wall, only guarding what was in front of them. A wall doesn’t curve. A wall doesn’t protect their backs.

Damn it, Celeste hadn’t even realised this was a problem.

She spun, heart pounding, only to see that blasted bird already diving toward their backs, its dark wings cutting through the air.

“Night Shade,” Ariana’s voice boomed.

The air seemed to warp around Rebel, shadows bleeding out from his wings. A wave of inky darkness expanded, blotting out the light, tendrils of shadow curling and twisting like living things. The darkness crashed down on Pat, engulfing him in a pitch-black fog. Celeste herself could feel the cold seep in, the weight of the shadows pressing against them, as if they were trapped in a nightmare, unable to escape.

Stolen story; please report.

But…

Isn’t life just that ironic? It was Ariana who was woven into the darkness of team Rocket, yet it was Celeste who truly had shadows on her side. Her own shadow, actually. Shy stretched out from her feet, reaching for Pat. The darkness beneath the Slowpoke’s feet bubbled and flared, and when it ceased, there was no more creeping Night Shade.

Ariana’s expression sobered. “Aren’t you cheating a bit too much, trainer?”

“You’re trying to steal Powder!” Celeste snapped, but caught herself, taking a deep breath to steady her rising anger. “But you are right. I don’t need to cheat to beat you.”

The rocky battlefield stretched out around them, feeling much larger than it really was, barren except for scattered stones that cast long, uneven shadows in the dim light. Pat stood firm, his eyes locked on Rebel, tail swaying with quiet determination. He had a few bruises, and the barrier had gone down again, but he was fine. Shy slowly drifted back to Celeste’s side, melting into the ground like part of the darkness itself. Above, Rebel circled, but his movements were slower now, wings heavy. Still, he watched. Waiting, ready for the next move.

Celeste met Pat’s gaze. “Time for the combo we’ve been training!” she didn’t need to say another word. Maybe having a good foundation was good, even if it was boring.

Pat’s eyes lit up with understanding. He inhaled deeply, then exhaled a massive Yawn. The bubbles that formed shimmered like polished glass, catching the light, glinting as they drifted lazily toward Rebel. The Murkrow paused, eyes fixed on the gleaming surface, wings beating slower, as if drawn to the sparkle.

Celeste almost smiled. Twinkle, twinkle little star, how you glimmer from afar. Drift on down, and when you pop, make sure that bird will drop—maybe poetry wasn’t her thing.

With a few soft pops, the bubbles burst right into Rebel’s face. He flinched, somehow surprised despite all of Ariana’s frantic shouts. But Pat’s combo had more to it—this wasn’t just Yawn. It was a combo for a reason. Celeste had a concept behind it: Disorient. That was her pitch.

“Keep it up, bud. Like the rag—pull his feathers from every side!” Celeste called out.

Pat’s eyes glowed as his Confusion took hold—or their version of it. Invisible forces tugged at Rebel’s feathers from every direction. Celeste’s smirk grew in time with Ariana’s fading confidence. The Murkrow staggered mid-air, his wings flapping wildly as he struggled against the unseen pulls, his flight turning sloppier by the second. But now, this wasn’t just about winning.

Celeste wanted to have a true victory. She needed to know she could stand against Team Rocket.

Her eyes sharpened. “Finish it! Water Gun!”

Pat didn’t waste a beat this time. Their tempo was one as he unleashed a powerful jet of water. It struck Rebel head-on, sending the Murkrow tumbling through the air. He crashed to the ground, soaked and dazed, motionless among a pile of plucked feathers.

Ariana’s fists clenched, her smirk wiped clean. “Rebel, get up! Get the fuck up!”

But Rebel lay still, unmoving.

Celeste stood tall, her eyes locked onto the other girl. “Guess I do have that edge after all.”

Ariana took a shaky step back. “C’mon, Twinkles… You can’t… You won’t… Blaine?!”

“Yeah… Blaine,” Celeste frowned, suddenly unsure of what came next. “I’ll tell him exactly who you are!”

“Hmm, and what would that be?” a voice echoed. The Gym Leader himself stood in the stands, eyes locking onto the two girls as he leaned against the railings. His gaze was sharp yet unreadable. “Quite a battle you two had, but I seem to remember forbidding battles altogether.”

—*——*—

“She’s with Team Rocket.” She sat forward, feet planted firmly on the floor.

Celeste and Ariana sat side by side on the large couch in Blaine’s office, an uncomfortable silence settling between them. Blaine sat opposite in his chair, his expression sour, as though weighing something far heavier than what had been said. Rebel and Pat—though really, it should’ve only been Rebel—had been left with Nurse Joy before they came here. And throughout all that, Blaine had barely said a word.

The Marowak, by the fire, kept polishing his bone club with slow, methodical strokes. The scraping sound seemed unnaturally loud, filling the silence like a ticking clock.

Why wasn’t Blaine saying anything?

Celeste had told him everything. Really everything. She started with how Ariana was part of a secret organisation that poached Pokémon, and with how she had tried to steal Powder. But for whatever reason, she didn’t stop there. She told him about Ryder. About meeting them in Mout Lanakila. About Articuno (yeah, even that). And through it all, Ariana sat beside her, calm, unapologetic, never once denying a thing.

“She could be the devil for all I care, Celeste. We just…” Blaine paused, rubbing his eyes as if the weight of everything was finally catching up to him. “Maybe having her watch over you was a mistake.”

Ariana snorted at that.

Celeste’s frustration flared. This was better than her time getting arrested for beating the bag guy. But somehow she still got things wrong. “I don’t understand why you’re not locking her up. Call the Gym trainers! This is a real problem. She is a real problem!”

Blaine’s composure faltered. “Because the Gym trainers haven’t come back!” His voice boomed, that explosive side of him finally breaking through. He clenched his eyes shut, taking a deep, shaky breath, as if to rein himself back in.

To Celeste’s surprise, it was Ariana who spoke next, her voice carrying… concern? “But… it’s been hours.”

Blaine shot her a sharp, pointed look. “I know.” His voice was tight as he took another shaky breath, struggling to maintain control. “Caleb should be right outside, Ariana. He’s going to watch over you at all times.” He paused, eyes narrowing. “And if you get any idiotic ideas about stealing Pokémon, do us all a favour—wait until the island isn’t overrun by monsters.”

Ariana stood up immediately, ready to protest. “Fuck off and just leave me—”

“You fuck off!” Celeste interrupted, just as angrily.

Blaine raised a hand, shushing them both before any could say another curse. He seemed far too tired to even complain about language. “Celeste will stay with me. Unless,” he glanced at Ariana with an edge in his voice, “you’d rather trade places?”

Ariana stood her ground, her arms crossed tightly.

Blaine ignored her and turned back to Celeste, his expression just as stern. “And you. You need to understand—no one’s ever heard of this ‘Team Rocket.’ The only reason I’m even listening to you is because Ariana has all but confirmed your entire story… and hasn’t stopped eyeing your Pokéballs since we got here.”

“So what now?” Ariana mumbled.

“Now, I’m going to figure out what happened to my gym trainers.” Blaine waved a hand dismissively, vaguely pointing at the door as he turned toward a laptop sitting on his table. Ariana scoffed, her voice dripping with disdain. “Senile old man,” she muttered under her breath, stomping out of the room. It was an unnecessary insult—Blaine wasn’t even that old—but this was Ariana, so… yeah.

Through the door, Celeste spotted Caleb and Nebula standing outside, though she doubted either of them would give Ariana much thought as she stormed past.

Celeste sighed and mumbled to herself, “And what am I supposed to do?”

Blaine didn’t respond immediately, his attention already focused on the keyboard of his laptop as his fingers tapped rapidly. Celeste leaned closer and noticed that Blaine wasn’t just accessing the Gym’s security footage—he was pulling up feeds from across the town. Cinnabar Island didn’t have many cameras, but Blaine clearly hoped there were enough to offer some answers.

“This is going to be boring and take some time, Celeste,” Blaine said, still focused on the screen. “If you can’t handle that, I suggest you find a book or some other way to keep yourself entertained.”

—*——*—

Celeste swung her feet up on the backrest of the sofa, her head dangling down toward the floor, perfectly aligned with the shadow that stretched out beneath her in an almost physically accurate way. Blaine said nothing as she began pulling books from his library, stacking them haphazardly by her side, and he seemed completely unbothered by the fact she was holding them upside down, with the pages aimed at the floor rather than directly at her eyes. He was too focused, scanning through hours of town footage, checking each camera feed in the agonising process of searching for the missing Gym Trainers.

Also, he didn’t want help.

“The Pyroclast Gland is a specialised organ responsible for heat generation in Fire-type Pokémon,” Celeste read some random page of “On the anatomy of Fire-types.” Her voice was monotonous as the book rested awkwardly on her hands above her head. “The gland is activated through the stomach, the body’s primary energy centre, and plays a critical role in both thermoregulation and the generation of heat.”

Shy’s shadowy form rippled slightly at the words. Good, someone was interested in that. Yes… Celeste said she would learn about moves and stuff. But meh. A bit hard to be interested in pyro-whatever when you don’t have a fire Pokémon of your own.

“The Pyroclast Gland does not possess an ignition mechanism for fire. Instead, flame production is typically facilitated through the Pokémon’s breath, though variations exist among species.” Celeste flipped a page with her nose. “The gland is most developed in Fire-type Pokémon, particularly in species such as Charmander, where it supports the maintenance of the internal flame located at the tail. This flame serves as a direct indicator of the Pokémon’s metabolic health, with its intensity corresponding to vitality.”

She paused briefly, adjusting the book in her hands.

“The Pyroclast Gland is not exclusive to Fire-types, however. It can also be found in other species capable of using Fire-type moves, and even in certain Water-types. The presence of the Pyroclast Gland in Water-Types is often associated with their ability to perform moves like Scald without harming themselves. Though the Pyroclast Gland produces energy, it should not be confused with bioelectric organs, which serve entirely different physiological functions…”

Celeste set the book aside, stretching slightly as she turned her attention to the shadow beneath her. “Hey, Shy,” she asked lightly, “do you think you can do a fire move? Like Will-O-Wisp?”

Blaine finally looked up from his screen, “Will-O-Wisp isn’t something generated by that,” he said. “That’s ghost fire. Different source.”

Celeste attempted to glance up at him, but the movement sent her off balance. She wobbled awkwardly for a moment before tipping over completely, tumbling headfirst into the pile of books she’d stacked beside the sofa. The hard covers and thick pages scattered around her as she landed in a heap. Shy’s edges flared slightly at that in what Celeste assumed was a brief giggle, lasting only a few seconds before they froze, noticing that Blaine had been watching them. Instantly, the shadow turned motionless once more.

“So… found anything?” Celeste rubbed her head, but Blaine only sighed, putting the laptop away.

“I need a break,” he declared, finally getting up and offering her a hand. “You will clean this mess, I hope.”

Celeste looked down at the books. “Guess that’s entertainment…”

“You disagree with the way I dealt with you and Ariana,” Blaine suddenly said. Once she was up, the Gym Leader walked to his window, observing the battlefield being built over the lava. He then turned back to her, thoughtful. “Did you really meet Articuno?”

After blurting out about her last adventures to Blaine, it took a while for the regret to sink in, but once it did, Celeste wished she had kept her mouth shut for once. She and the others had agreed to keep Polaris a secret, after all. She didn’t even tell the police or that league guy about him.

“Hmm,” she mumbled, awkwardly looking away from him and letting her eyes drifting to the trophies on his shelf. She’d noticed them every time she stepped into this office. Quiz Master, Trivia Night Champ. You’d think a gym leader would have more battle awards on display, like a proper trainer. She tilted her head toward the shelf, trying to change the subject herself. “Aunty Opal’s into this kinda stuff, too. Quizzes and all.”

Blaine chuckled. “I know.”

Wait, what? Celeste blinked. “You know her? You didn’t say anything when I mentioned her the other day.”

He nodded. “International league events. We’ve crossed paths once or twice. Our shared interests for trivia games make for good icebreakers.” Then, with a smile creeping out from under his moustache, he added, “It is Leader Kabu, however, who is my main contact in Galar, as you can imagine.”

Celeste grinned. “Gotta a hellfire club?”

Blaine’s eyebrow arched. “So… Ariana and this Team Rocket?” His voice carried a subtle edge, making it clear he wasn’t going to let her off that easily.

“I told you, the League knows about them. There was that guy at my hearing.”

“Yes, the hearing. For assaulting a fake ranger and… burning down the prison facility where you and Miss Kana were being held. Then you escaped and somehow encountered Articuno.” Blaine’s lips tightened into a grimace, and the tips of his moustache twitched slightly. “It all sounds a bit far-fetched, if I may say so myself.”

Celeste’s jaw clenched. “You said you believed me.”

He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I do believe parts of it. Ariana does seem connected to this organisation you mentioned. And I recently approved the transfer of some police Growlithe from Four Island for retraining here. It all fits your timeline too well.” He paused, his gaze softening slightly. “Anyway. That’s not what I meant when I brought up Ariana.”

Celeste fell silent as Blaine opened a drawer, retrieving a worn journal from inside—Fuji’s journal. He traced the cover with his thumb, lost in thought.

“Ren, as you’re well aware, is no saint,” he said quietly. That was the understatement of the year. “But he’s my friend. Just as Lusamine seems to be your mother’s friend. And Ariana—”

“Is the annoying girl you paired me up with,” Celeste cut in. “And, once I tell mum about Lusamine, I doubt they’ll stay friends.”

Blaine glanced up at her, his face clouded with something Celeste couldn’t quite place. “It doesn’t work like this, you know?” he said, his voice low, like a weight pressing down on the room.

She narrowed her eyes, biting back a retort. She’d brought up Fuji before, convinced he had to be behind everything that happened in Cinnabar, but Blaine always shut down the conversation. No doubt he’d shut it again. At first, she figured it was too painful for him to admit his friend might be a monster. But now… now she wasn’t so sure. Was he just refusing to see it altogether?

“Did you search Fuji’s house for the missing gym trainers?” she chose to speak.

He hesitated. “He doesn’t have cameras.”

“Giovanni Rocchi does. He’s his neighbour,” Celeste pressed.

Blaine’s expression soured. “I don’t have access to private security cameras, Miss Diaz.”

“Well, isn’t that convenient?”

An uneasy silence filled the room. Finally, Blaine turned back to his seat and to the computer in front of him. “I still have more footage to review.”

Celeste flopped onto the sofa with a grumble. “He’s the bad guy… and you know that. He’s gotta be.”

Blaine glanced over at her. “A bad guy like Ariana, apparently.” He sighed, his voice softening. “Hatred burns fast, Celeste. Be careful with it.”