Hayley's finger hovered over the "play" icon on the screen.
She wasn't doing anything wrong. Gym battles were closed to the public, but they were always recorded and sent out for broadcast and streaming. She'd watched plenty of them before, even if they weren't as exciting as the glitzy tournament and conference recordings. But now—now that it was someone she knew, and now that a gym battle of her own loomed on the horizon—it felt different. Like she was getting an eyeful of something she wasn't supposed to see.
In the end, she pressed the "play" button anyway. Even if it felt weird, she had to know. Call it research.
The Pokémon League splash screen gave way to a video recording, and there she was. Melinda stood at one end of Roxanne's massive arena, looking cool and confident as ever. Her red hair was tied back in a ponytail, and she was wearing a navy-blue compression top and loose-fitted track pants. It was a look that Connie would have called "athletic couture." Despite having no badges, she radiated confidence as she surveyed the arena through half-lidded eyes. Hell, she almost looked bored.
On the sidelines, a referee raised her hand. "This is a first-tier gym challenge between Melinda Hathaway and Leader Roxanne. The format will be a two on two single battle. The challenger is allowed one substitution. Standard League rules are in place." She turned her head to the side. "Leader Roxanne, send out your first Pokémon."
Roxanne bowed her head elegantly and drew a Pokéball from her belt. Hayley shivered. Roxanne had changed up her image for this season, going from a school uniform and pigtailed buns to a blazer, pencil skirt, and chignon. The sight of her made Hayley feel like she was about to be scolded for missing a homework assignment. Roxanne's ball sailed through the air and landed on the field to reveal a Geodude. No surprise there—Roxanne's first-badge team was always a Geodude and a Nosepass.
"Challenger, send out your first Pokémon."
The camera switched back to Melinda, who already had a ball in hand. Sure enough, she sent out her Bagon. Hayley hadn't gotten a good look at it on graduation day—she'd been too busy dying of shame over Barrett—but seeing it now, even through the tiny screen of her phone, it was clear that it was a beast. Its body rippled with muscle under a layer of thick, tough scales, and the crest on its forehead was massive and well-formed. Its beady eyes glittered as it opened its mouth, letting out a roar.
"Close in. Prepare fire." That was all the direction the Bagon needed. It ran forward, shockingly quick on its short legs, and unhinged its jaw to inhale. Almost instantly, tiny blue flames began licking at the edges of its mouth.
"Rock tomb, blockade," Roxanne ordered. Her tone was cool and even, and her eyes were locked on the dragon. The Geodude made a sound like rock grinding against rock. It uncurled its arms and slammed them into the ground, lifting itself into a handstand. The boulder-strewn battlefield rippled as several new rocks emerged from the dirt, directly in the path of the Bagon. They were meant as an obstacle, but they didn't even slow the dragon down; it hopped across them as easily as running down a sidewalk. In moments, it was within point-blank range of the Geodude.
"Release." The Bagon planted its feet, and flames—an actual thick stream of blue flames, not just embers with some fire mixed in—rushed out of its mouth. The fire torrent engulfed the Geodude, and then it just kept coming. Hayley counted the seconds—one, two, three, four five, six—how was this even possible? Where was all this fire coming from? By the time the last of the blue flames disappeared, the Geodude was on the ground. Burns covered every inch of its rock hide. It didn't get up again.
Hayley's jaw was on the floor, but Roxanne just nodded, almost imperceptibly, and withdrew her Geodude. Next up was her Nosepass, which she released directly next to the Bagon. "Thunder wave." A smart move, Hayley thought through her haze of bewilderment—she wasn't giving the Bagon the time or space to charge up again. A spark leapt from the Nosepass and hit the Bagon square in the chest before Melinda could even order a counter. The Bagon's muscles visibly stiffened, and its head and neck snapped back. But Melinda didn't look worried.
"Dragon dance." The Bagon's eyes closed, and the air around it began to ripple. Roxanne ordered a body slam attack, and her Nosepass began to tilt forward, but suddenly, blood-red energy erupted and coursed over the Bagon's scales. It jerked into motion and twisted away just before the attack landed, and the Nosepass crashed vainly into the ground. Melinda smirked. "Now, iron head. Don't let up."
The Bagon's crest glinted silver as the iron and carbon in its body came forth to form a temporary coating of steel. Then it lunged forward and brought its head down onto the Nosepass, and then did it again, and again, and again. The Nosepass quivered as it tried to stand, but each time it began to right itself, another hit from the Bagon brought it down. Finally, it stopped moving altogether.
Hayley shut off the video and put her phone screen-down on the bed. What had she just seen? That opening dragonbreath attack had already left her speechless, but then the fight against the Nosepass—she didn't understand it. First of all, Nosepass had some of the toughest bodies around, even by rock-type standards. If Barrett tried headbutting one, he would probably crack his skull open. Bagon had naturally thick heads, which still shouldn't have been enough, but the genius of teaching it iron head—she hadn't even thought they could learn that technique! Second, she could tell from the way the Bagon had been moving at the end that it was still paralyzed during the iron head assault. Dragon dance hadn't done anything to heal it; it had just made it strong enough to power through like it was nothing.
But putting those two things together—the Nosepass's high defense, combined with the fact that the Bagon was paralyzed—wouldn't it have been easier to finish off the fight with dragonbreath? The Nosepass had been on the ground and was slow to get up; they would have had plenty of time to charge up another attack. Had Melinda made a mistake when she called for iron head instead? But if Hayley could figure this out, then surely Melinda…
Hayley picked up her phone and turned on the screen again. The video showed a still image of Melinda's confident, smirking face. No. The iron head assault had been ordered on purpose. Melinda had been showing off.
Hayley stared at the paused video, at Melinda's face, until the screen went dark again. And then she stared for a while longer.
How could she even hope to compete with someone like that?
----------------------------------------
A few days later, Barrett got his cast removed. Hayley was enlisted to hold him to hold him still on the table as the nurse ran his dremel up and down along the plaster. Barrett jerked and wriggled so furiously under her gloves that she was sure this was going to end with his arm getting cut off, but at least he didn't spit fire at either of them. Hayley had promised him earlier that if he behaved himself, they would challenge the gym afterwards. So far, the bribe seemed to be working.
Finally, the cast split in two, and the nurse pulled it apart. Hayley let go of Barrett and eyed his arm critically. Despite all his moving around, there wasn't so much as a single scratch from the dremel—the nurse must have done this a lot. But when Barrett held both arms up to inspect them himself, she saw that the arm that had been broken was a little thinner than the arm that hadn't been broken. She chewed the inside of her cheek, remembering the summer she'd broken her shin and come out of it with a leg like a twig. "Is he going to need physical therapy, or anything like that? Or do you think he's okay to battle?"
The nurse stood back and crossed his arms. "The break was minor, and there wasn't much muscle loss during healing. I'd say he's fine for some light battling—"
Barrett jumped up and ran towards the edge of the table. Hayley barely managed to grab him before he did a nosedive to the floor. He hissed and swatted at her as she deposited him, squirming, back on the table. Thankfully she was still wearing her gloves, or that would've earned her some new burns. The nurse raised an eyebrow, but kept speaking as though nothing had happened.
"He's fine for some light battling, but with a few caveats. You said he broke his arm performing a cross chop technique?"
"Yeah," she said, eyes still on Barrett. He stood up to charge again, and she shifted to block his escape route with her body.
"I'd recommend avoiding that move for a while. Even once he's back to a hundred percent, the risk of reinjury is high if he uses it against an opponent bigger or heavier than him. There are a few dojos in town that might be able to help him learn to use it safely, but your best bet will be Brawley's gym in Dewford. The gym trainers there specialize in this sort of thing."
"All right," said Hayley, deflating slightly. She'd more or less expected that cross chop would be off-limits against Roxanne, but still, it would have been nice to have it as an option.
"And when I say light battling, I mean light," the nurse continued. "Give it a few days and see how he's doing before you do something crazy like challenging Roxanne's gym. Of course, I'm sure you weren't planning on running off to do that right away anyway—you've got more sense than that."
Barrett shouted in protest and spat a clump of embers on the table. Hayley cringed and recalled him before he could start a fire. No, she definitely wasn't going to go straight from an exam room to the gym. She definitely hadn't promised Barrett that exact thing twenty minutes ago. She definitely didn't have directions from the Pokémon Center to the gym loaded onto her phone's map app at this very second.
"Of course."
Barrett was going to kill her.
----------------------------------------
"Okay, are you ready? Three—"
"Hang on." Hayley mashed fruitlessly at the screen of her phone. "It's making me watch an ad for Penelope's Pretty Poké-Puffs."
"Ugh! I told you to get a premium subscription!"
"I did! I paid the five dollars and everything."
"No, five dollars is the preferred tier subscription, not the premium—ugh," Connie huffed again. "Just tell me when it's done."
At last, the ad finished with a Delcatty somersaulting into the air and winking at the camera, and the video switched back to showing the contest hall. "Okay, I'm here. Fifteen minutes, thirty-one seconds, right?"
"Thirty-two." Hayley rolled her eyes and adjusted the slider a miniscule amount. "Do you have it?"
"Yeah, I have it."
"Okay! Three, two, one, play!"
The Verdanturf contest hall was small in size, but it still dwarfed the form of the onscreen Connie as she entered from the wings. She was wearing a simple pink knee-length dress and ballet flats, and her hair was pulled back in a sleek bun. Her face was free of its normal red-rimmed glasses, and her eyes sparkled under the lights.
"I forgot how much I hated contacts," the real Connie complained from the other side of the phone. "My eyes were so itchy." The onscreen Connie didn't look bothered, though, as she approached the arena and waved to the handful of people scattered around the stands.
"You look great," Hayley said, a little wistfully. She'd never managed to look that put-together in her life—years of school photos showcasing frizzy hair, rumpled shirts, and conspicuous bruises and scrapes could testify to that.
"Eh, I wish I could have gotten someone to do my hair and makeup. Clarissa has this stylist who—oh! Here I go!"
The onscreen Connie had reached the arena railing, and now she gave a graceful curtsy. Just before she straightened up again, she plucked Marcie's Pokéball from a strap around her thigh—an attempted sleight-of-hand that still looked a little awkward despite Connie having practiced it "like, a million times." She tossed the ball in a high arc, and Marcie appeared in a flurry of pink holographic hearts.
Connie's chronic indecisiveness meant she'd only settled on a routine a couple of days before the contest, and despite her flood of excited messages to Hayley, she hadn't actually explained what it was. This would be her first time seeing it. Hayley subconsciously brought the phone screen closer to her face, her eyes fixed.
Slowly, Connie extended both of her arms and lifted one leg behind her. In the arena, Marcie did the same in almost perfect sync—though with a noticeable tremble in her limbs. So, she was still going with a dance routine. As Hayley watched, Connie led Marcie through a sequence of basic ballet steps, simplified to account for Marcie's inexperience and the fact that Connie wasn't wearing pointe shoes. The dance gradually increased in complexity and tempo, and Hayley worried that Marcie would fall behind, but the Ralts actually seemed to be getting more confident in her movements, not less. Her shakiness disappeared and her steps grew more and more purposeful until finally, despite the railing between the two of them, Marcie and Connie could have been the perfect shadows of one another.
"That's so cool," Hayley said, but then she frowned. "Don't you need to use moves in an appeals round, though?"
"Just watch," Connie said, and Hayley could hear the grin in her voice.
The dance reached its climax, and Marcie's horn began to glow. She tilted back her head in time with Connie and let out a soft cry. Apparently on cue, Connie froze in place, arms still outspread in second position. Marcie spun into a frantic twirl, and suddenly there was more of her. Illusory copies sprang out to each side, forming a ring with the real Marcie in the middle. Marcie halted her spin and spread her arms, and the copies fell into a line beside her, then joined hands and fell into a circle. The illusion wasn't perfect; the figment Ralts' bodies clipped into each other in places, and their images flickered, making it clear which one was real. Still, for something that couldn't have been practiced for more than a few days at most, it was seriously impressive.
Marcie ended the dance by bowing forward, one hand extended so that the circle of copies formed the spokes and rim of a wheel. Then, the entire shape vanished. Hayley startled, but Marcie reappeared near the railing an instant later, sticking a slightly wobbly landing to her teleport. That was also Connie's cue to move again. She stood up straight and clapped her hands, beaming at Marcie with an expression of pure joy. Then, in time, they both turned and bowed to the stands.
"Wasn't that incredible?" the real Connie gushed.
"It really was," Hayley said. "That double team was awesome, and the teleport at the end—"
"Right? Marcie struggled with it a lot in practice, but I knew she'd be able to pull it off!"
But apparently the judges were less impressed. As the onscreen Connie came up from her final bow, scores appeared on an overlay beside her.
BEAUTY – 4.5
CLEVER – 7.3
CUTE – 6.1
"Four point five?" Hayley sputtered. "What's that even based on? Were they even watching?"
"Oh, don't worry about that," Connie said airily, as though she hadn't just been judged and found wanting by a panel of experts. "That's for really flashy moves—fire, ice, that sort of thing. It'll go up once I decide what TM to teach her—I want to get them all, but mom said I had to pick just one." She giggled then, but something about it sounded strange. Hayley chalked it up to a bad connection. "This contest was basically practice anyway. I'm going to really blow them away at my next one. Let's watch my battle round next! You can give me tips."
"All right," Hayley agreed. But just before she paused the video, the screen cut to the next contestant. Hayley squinted. "Wait, is that Clarissa?"
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
"Oh." Connie's voice went from peppy to flat faster than Hayley could blink. "Yeah. She went right after me."
"It doesn't even look like her." Clarissa was done up in a shiny silk kimono. It was powder blue with golden accents, the exact colors of her Snorunt. Her face was caked in so much makeup that she looked three years older, and her hair was styled into a complicated system of twisted, interlocking braids. It was all so showy that it made Connie's simple dress and bun seem almost… plain. "Can we watch her appeals round too? I want to see what she does."
"You totally don't," Connie said, a little too quickly. "Trust me, it's this super played-out combination of water pulse and ice beam. We've all seen it done a thousand times already."
"Okay, but—"
"Can we please just watch the battle round?" Connie insisted again, and this time her words carried a sharp, clipped edge Hayley had never heard from her before. "I need to start practicing for next week. I don't have time to watch every single appeal again, but I guess we can if you really want—"
"Okay, okay." Taken aback, Hayley wondered if she should ask what was wrong, but the switch had already flipped back, and Connie was her usual cheerful self again.
"Great! Let me just find the timestamp…"
While she was looking, though, Hayley surreptitiously slid the timer bar a few minutes forward. She couldn't make out much of the performance from the slideshow the fast-forward generated, but the scores that popped up at the end were clear enough.
BEAUTY – 8.1
CLEVER – 6.7
CUTE – 7.4
Clarissa had won after all.
----------------------------------------
Hayley had held off on visiting the Rustboro Gym, knowing that if she went there without Barrett, he would consider it a personal slight, and if she went there with him, she'd never get him to leave without a battle. So when she showed up for her qualification battle, it was her first time seeing it in person.
The gym was built into a great stone monolith that erupted from the ground. Once upon a time it had probably been the largest building in Rustboro, but today it was dwarfed by the modern skyscrapers that had risen up around it. But even if it wasn't the tallest building, it felt like the biggest. Every inch of it was ancient, imposing, and eternal; the stone that formed its walls didn't have a single crack. The front was carved flat and faced with thick sheets of metal, and at the bottom, wrought iron double doors loomed. Hayley took a deep breath, reached out to one of the massive handles, and pushed with all her strength—then stumbled forward when the door swung open easily. Beside her, Barrett snorted.
"I'd like to see you do better," she muttered, despite the heat rising in her face. "You can't even reach the handles."
Inside, a glass entryway opened up into what looked like a huge museum. It was all one room, with marble walls and floors and a dizzyingly high vaulted ceiling. Rows and rows of tables and shelves were crammed in here, each with a different display: a line of geodes sparkled along one bench, while a fossilized Pokémon skull leered out of a glass display case to the side. Slabs of rocks and minerals sat proudly on mahogany pedestals, brass placards proclaiming their history and makeup. But the centerpiece was the display along the far wall, where an entire colossal Dragonite skeleton had been assembled and mounted to show the Pokémon in flight.
"Hey." She whirled around. An older boy, dressed in a grey school uniform, sat at a desk to the left. "You here for the gym challenge? Or just enjoying the museum?"
"Um. Yes? I mean—" The courage she'd worked up on the way here faltered as she stumbled over her words. "Gym. I'm here for the gym, please. Uh, but I'm going to do the qualifying battle, not Roxanne… I have an appointment?"
The boy sighed loudly, and her flush deepened. "Great. Pokédex, please?" Hayley pulled her Pokédex from her back pocket and handed it over, thankfully not dropping it despite her sweaty palms. The boy slotted it into a drive on the computer and nodded. "Hayley Summers?"
"Yes. That's me."
"You're early. Battle's not till three o'clock." Before she could stammer out an apology, he waved his hand to cut her off. "It's fine. Better early than late. Here." He removed her Pokédex and grabbed a clipboard from the desk, then handed both to her. "Read and sign. Standard League boilerplate."
Hayley put away her Pokédex and examined the clipboard. There were three papers attached to it, each double-sided with tiny, single-spaced print. At the end of each was a line for her signature. She took a look at the first.
AFFIRMATION OF ELIGIBILITY
I, the undersigned, hereby attest that I am an officially registered trainer in good standing with the Hoenn Pokémon League, and that there are no circumstances that prevent me from legal participation, including but not limited to license probation, outstanding civil or criminal charges, unlawful entry into the Hoenn region…
Simple enough. She'd signed a million forms like this while applying for League registration in the first place. She scribbled her signature at the bottom and flipped over to the next sheet.
AUTHORIZATION OF RELEASE
I, the undersigned, hereby authorize the Rustboro Gym, the Hoenn Pokémon League, and associated affiliates to record and distribute materials related to my match, including pictures, video, and related media. I recognize that the Pokémon League has full ownership of these materials, and that I waive the right to any royalties…
She'd expected this one too, though she wasn't thrilled about it. She just had to hope she wouldn't embarrass herself too badly. She signed and went to the last page.
RELEASE OF LIABILITY
I, the undersigned, recognize that the Rustboro Gym and the Pokémon League as a whole do not accept responsibility for any injury, dismemberment, or death, whether to Pokémon or trainer, that may come about in the normal course of battle. I understand that the profession of Pokémon battling carries with it an inherent level of risk, and agree that neither I nor my next of kin shall pursue legal action should this risk be realized. I understand that I may submit claims of foul play or unsportsmanlike behavior to the League bureau, following the guidelines in section 401.2.(c) of…
"You done?" Hayley jerked her head up to see the boy watching her. She cleared her throat.
"Sorry. Just getting through these… forms…" The boy leaned over the desk, glanced at the paper she was reading, and nodded.
"Yeah, that last one's a doozy. I wouldn't worry about it, though. I mean, legally I can't tell you not to worry about it, but between you and me? Roxanne's got one of the best safety records in the League. You'll be fine."
"Yeah," she echoed, and then shook her head. She was being stupid. She'd already taken responsibility for both her own life and Barrett's; hell, they'd already almost died! It didn't change anything now, just because she was seeing it laid out in clinical black and white. With a burst of resolve, she tightened her grip on the pen, scrawled her name, and handed the clipboard back to the boy before she could change her mind. He skimmed over the papers, then filed them away in an unseen drawer.
"Okay, you're all set. You'll be fighting Tyler on Field Three. You can't go back yet, but once it hits two fifty-five, go through that door." He gestured at a small, unassuming door tucked all the way in the back right corner of the museum. "Until then, feel free to look at the exhibits."
2:55 was… She checked her watch and winced. Almost half an hour from now. Maybe she shouldn't have come so early. She looked down at Barrett, who had his arms crossed impatiently. "Uh. Do you want to go look at the rocks?" He scowled. "Okay, I'll look at the rocks, and you can warm up while we walk around. No fire, though! Just stretches and breathing." Barrett grumbled and kicked at the ground. Hayley sighed and pulled his ball from her belt. "Or I could recall you. Your choice."
Barrett growled, but she knew he knew it wasn't much of a choice at all. He trudged into line behind her, smoke curling pointedly from his beak.
Hayley meandered through the exhibits, glancing at the plaques for each one. An Omastar shell, fossilized Onix tracks, a petrified unhatched egg from millions of years ago. Cores of rock from caves across the continent, accompanied by write-ups explaining how the geological history of, say, Mount Coronet was different from the history of Mount Chimney. And then there was—
Hayley stopped, and her mouth dropped open. Barrett bumped into her and swatted at her legs, and she nudged him back mindlessly with one foot. She hadn't known this was here.
A few years ago—Hayley had been in elementary school then—the world had almost ended. Two rival teams, calling themselves Aqua and Magma, had somehow gotten ahold of ancient artifacts and used them to awaken Pokémon of unbelievable power. Until then, Kyogre and Groudon had occupied the same place as Arceus in people's minds—myths, legends, something that, if they had ever existed at all, certainly wouldn't appear in the world today.
Nobody thought that way now.
Groudon had stirred first, bringing earthquakes and accompanying tsunamis. Mount Chimney had rumbled to life, belching smoke and spewing lava floes from its peak. Then Kyogre had woken too, and spawned a hurricane the size of the entire country that scoured weakened buildings from the face of the earth. The destruction had gone on for less than a day before the combined efforts of the League and the Devon Corporation put the titans back to sleep, but the damage was catastrophic. Dewford, Mossdeep, Fallarbor, and Lavaridge had to be rebuilt from the ground up. Pacifidlog was gone completely. Countless people died, most of them in Sootopolis, where the clash between Groudon and Kyogre and knocked cliffs and crater walls into the sea. Even today, while most of Hoenn had been restored, Sootopolis was barely inhabited. The only people that visited now were gym challengers and people wanting to pay their respects at the Cave of Origin.
And if that wasn't enough, barely a month later, news had broken that a giant meteor was on a collision course with Hoenn.
Credit for stopping both disasters had gone to the Devon Corporation. They'd found a way to use the same ancient orbs that had awakened Groudon and Kyogre to weaken them instead, making it possible for the League to take them down. And then they'd partnered with the indigenous tribes of Meteor Falls to summon a third titan and destroy the meteor before it could make impact. If it hadn't been for Devon's scientists and engineers and their production of infinity energy, Hoenn would have been destroyed twice over. It was sobering enough that afterwards, Steven Stone stepped down as Champion to take his place at the helm of the company. He'd sworn to find a way to keep disasters like this from ever threatening the region again.
In front of Hayley now was a fragment of the meteor—although, as the plaque proclaimed, it would be more correct to call it an asteroid, given its size and composition. It was bigger than she was, and most of its surface was broken and jagged, but the part that faced forward still showed the wavy, pockmarked exterior it had had before it was shattered. It was a tiny piece of the thing that had marked the end of Hoenn's darkest season and the beginning of its future. On its marble plinth were carved the words Steven had spoken in his first speech as president:
NO LONGER AT THE MERCY OF NATURE
WE WILL MOVE ONWARD TOWARDS THE STARS
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At 2:55 exactly, she stepped through the back door. It opened up into a room even larger and taller than the museum. Unlike the museum, the stone here was brown and rough-cut, and unlike the museum, there were people. Four battlefields were arranged in a square, each with rows of bleachers set up along the sides, and in every one, there was a battle going on. Battlefields one and two looked like low-tier matches, with a Shuckle facing off against a Spoink and a Bonsly fighting a Seedot. Battlefield four was more impressive, featuring a Rhyhorn going toe-to-toe with a bulky Makuhita. And Battlefield three—Hayley gasped. Battlefield three had a Golem, which was standing over a Breloom and pounding it into the dust. She ran over to get a better look. The Breloom had been knocked to the ground at some point, and now the Golem straddled it, using its bulk to ensure it couldn't get up again. The Breloom thrashed, pounding its fists against the Golem and its legs and tail against the dirt, but the Golem didn't budge.
"Flamethrower," said the gym trainer. He was wearing a school uniform—they were all wearing school uniforms. Every gym trainer here was a student at the Rustboro Trainer's School. The Golem growled and ducked its head, spitting a torrent of flames directly into the Breloom's face. The Breloom screamed, but the noise was abruptly cut off as its trainer recalled it. The battle was over.
Hayley's knees felt weak. She sank into the bleachers next to the field, where a young pigtailed girl was scribbling down notes. "Is… Is that Tyler?" Hayley asked her.
"Huh? Oh!" The girl's face brightened as she met Hayley's eyes. "Yeah. He's really good. I'm doing writeups on a bunch of the trainers here for my term project, and he's my favorite so far."
"Is he always that…"
"Brutal? Yeah! I love it."
Barrett's eyes were shining as he sized up the Golem. Cinders were already gathering at the corners of his beak. All Hayley could think about was how much bigger the Golem was than Barrett, and how if it rolled onto him, it would squish him flat.
And she'd just signed a paper saying that she wouldn't blame the gym if that happened.
"Hey! Hello!" Hayley snapped back to attention to see the trainer—Tyler—waving at her. "Are you my next match? Hayley Summers?"
"Y-yes." Her eyes slid over to the Golem again. It was stretching its arms lazily as it gazed around the arena.
"Well, go over to the challenger's box, and we'll get the match started." He gestured to the other side of the field, where a rectangle was marked in white chalk. Barrett scampered forward, and she trailed after him. "So you don't have any badges, and this is your first try at the qualification match here, right?"
"That's right," she said faintly. The Golem was still on the field, and now it was looking at her. He wasn't—he couldn't make her fight that thing. Right? She was just a beginner. Gym trainers were supposed to have Pokémon that would match the challenger's level. How could she and Barrett even begin to fight a Golem? Maybe if he blinded it with some smoke—but even if he focus-fired his ember attack afterwards, he wouldn't be able to get through the skin…
"For Pete's sake, Tyler, call back Shale. You're scaring the kid." The referee, a dark-haired teenage girl, glared at Tyler with her hands on her hips. Tyler smirked.
"What? I'm just letting her see some of the higher-level Pokémon we have in the gym. She should be grateful for the opportunity."
"You do this every time you get a newbie, and it's not funny!" the referee spat back. "Start taking this seriously, or I'll report you to Roxanne."
"Tattletale," Tyler grumbled, and then added under his breath, "I think it's funny." But he pulled a ball from his belt all the same and recalled the Golem into it. Hayley's shoulders sagged in relief; Barrett huffed and pouted.
"Anyway, newbie, here's how the qualification matches here go. We'll battle one on one, but the twist is that I'll be asking you questions the whole time, and you have to answer. The questions'll get harder as the match goes on, and you have to get at least half of them right and knock out my Pokémon to win. Okay?"
All the gyms in Hoenn had a gimmick for their qualifying matches, usually either a physical challenge or a puzzle or brain teaser that had to be solved during the battle. Of course Roxanne's would be a pop quiz. Hayley bit back a groan. "Okay."
"All right. Then let's go. Maisie, do the honors?"
The referee rolled her eyes and lifted an arm. "This is a first-tier qualifying match between Hayley Summers and Gym Trainer Tyler. The format will be a one on one single battle. Standard League rules are in place. Gym Trainer Tyler, send out your Pokémon."
"Rhea!" He tossed a ball onto the field, and Hayley watched with bated breath as the Pokémon materialized. It was a flat, olive-green bug with red-and-white frills fluttering at its sides. Enormous eyes blinked from eyestalks on either side of its head, and two pincer-like claws at the front of its body snapped open and closed. It was an Anorith, and honestly, after the Golem, it was… kind of underwhelming. Barrett clearly thought so too; at her feet, she heard him scoff.
"Don't underestimate it," she said. It was a warning to both him and to herself.
"Challenger, send out your Pokémon."
"Barrett—" She didn't even have to finish. Barrett leapt onto the field like he'd been stung, cinders flying from his mouth as he went. Hayley grimaced. "Barrett, don't attack until the referee says—"
"Begin!"
"Mud sport," Tyler said, and then looked at Hayley. "Name three elemental types that are strong against the ground type."
"Uh, water, grass—ice! Barrett, use ember!" The Anorith had begun digging itself into the ground and was spitting water from its mouth. The dirt of the battlefield dampened into mud, which Rhea scooped up and deposited onto itself with its claws. Barrett got in close and spat an ember barrage, but the damp carapace and mud barricade deflected the worst of it.
"Correct. Rhea, clamp it." The Anorith darted out from the mud and snapped its pincers open.
"Dodge—"
"Name a ghost-type Pokémon native to Hoenn."
Barrett hopped to the side, but he'd underestimated the Anorith's reach. One claw snatched his right ankle and pulled knocking him to the ground. Barrett hissed and began swiping at it with his own claws. Hayley stammered as her brain switched back and forth between strategy and trivia. "Barrett, don't scratch it! Use ember! And—Duskull!"
"Correct. What is the primary component of a Seviper's diet? Rhea, water gun." Hayley and Barrett both shouted in protest as a jet of water spat from between the bug's mandibles. It was no bigger than the stream from a water pistol, but it hit Barrett's side with enough force to make him flinch. Wasn't she already at enough of a disadvantage in a rock-type gym? Did they have to add water into this too?
"Meat? Barrett, ember!" Finally, either because he'd decided to listen or because he'd realized his scratches were getting him nowhere, Barrett inhaled deeply and spat. The embers found their mark on the Anorith's eyestalks, and the bug screeched and recoiled, dropping Barrett in the process.
"Incorrect. The correct answer is eggs." She slapped her forehead—she'd known that one. "How many evolutionary families in Hoenn contain the dark typing? Rhea, water gun again."
"How am I supposed to know that?" Hayley couldn't keep herself from shouting. "Four, maybe? Barrett, keep your distance and keep using ember!"
"Incorrect. There are seven." On the field, Rhea spat another jet of water, but Barrett dodged it this time. He landed another ember attack, this time on the Anorith's back. The bug screeched in pain as its frills blackened. That one had hurt. One more hit—
"Mud-slap. Name an invasive Pokémon species that can be found inside Mount Chimney." She really did know this one! She'd studied invasive species lists as part of her prep for the Birch exam. Was it—Diglett? Wait, or were Diglett native to Hoenn? She didn't think they were… On the field, the Anorith had coated itself in mud again and was shooting globs of it towards Barrett, but Barrett had backed away and was continuing to launch ember attacks. They'd almost won. All they had to do was—
Wait. "Barrett, hold on!" He stopped, thankfully, and turned to glare at her, which earned him a clawful of mud to the back. She winced and looked at the gym trainer. "If I don't answer, does that mean I got two questions right and two wrong, or two questions right and three wrong?"
"Just answer the question, challenger. Rhea, water gun."
"Agh! Barrett, keep going! Dodge and ember!" Barrett scoffed and leapt back into action, sidestepping the new stream of water. He didn't ready another fire attack, though; instead he got in close to Rhea and started swiping with his claws again. Presumably, it was to spite her. Hayley racked her brain. If she didn't answer, would she pass or would she fail? If she answered, would Tyler ask another question before Barrett could knock out Rhea? What if she got this one wrong?
Rhea pinched Barrett on his unprotected stomach, drawing blood. Barrett hissed and leapt back, inhaling for another ember. It was now or never. And suddenly, Hayley remembered. "Roggenrola!"
Her answer came just as Barrett's ember landed. The Anorith screeched and curled up, nursing its blackened frills. Tyler nodded and recalled it. "That's three out of five correct, and you beat my Pokémon. Well done, challenger. You've earned the right to challenge Roxanne."
She'd done it. She'd done it, and it hadn't even been especially hard. A grin split her face, so wide it made her cheeks hurt. She could do this. She could fight Roxanne, and she could win. It wouldn't be as clean as Melinda's victory, she was sure, but she could do it.
Barrett swaggered back to the sidelines, puffing out his chest. Aside from the cut on his belly and the mud coating his scales, he looked unscathed and ready for round two. Hayley couldn't help herself—she bent down and patted him on his lumpy head. He yelled and shuffled out from under her hand, spitting embers at her shoes. It didn't even bother her.
"We're going to fight Roxanne next, Barrett. Are you ready? We've got a lot of training to do."