At first Sabrina thought this would be a passing thing, that after his third or fourth loss he would finally see reason and leave, never to return. But that wasn’t the case.
Day after day the man with the cross would come to the Gym to challenge its leader, and day after day he would lose due to some dirty trick or technicality. It was clear who the stronger trainer was, who had the best Pokemon and instinct for combat; it was him. But that didn’t keep him from suffering defeat after humiliating defeat.
Yet that didn’t seem to bring down the man’s spirits who, fueled by god knows what kind of determination, always came back for more. He often ended the battle wounded. Far from his obstinate nature earning Sabrina’s compassion, it only seemed to piss her off, turning her even more violent than usual. Of course, she often received her own share of injuries, though never anything too serious.
A few weeks passed after that first battle, and the challenges from the man with the cross became part of Sabrina’s daily routine. It wasn’t something that excited her, of course. Yet -though she would never admit it out loud, and despite the usual brutality of their duels- she’d eventually come to see their fights as a break of sorts, a small haven from the darkness of her life in which there was no scheming or hidden intentions, only fighting until one of them went down. Strange thing.
It was common for their duels to be silent, save for the occasional insult or order being barked at their Pokemon, but on that particular day, a conversation was struck.
Some time later, Sabrina would come to wish she’d never answered.
“You have too many Pokemon, so of course… you can’t train all of them to maximize their strengths…”
The man with the cross spoke with a surprisingly conceited tone considering he was half-collapsed against his side of the cage, dripping blood from a few superficial cuts and burns. His Scyther lay next to him in a similar state, completely out of it.
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“If you p-paid attention to them individually…” he continued.”If you trained them properly, they would be much stronger.”
Though she would’ve liked to tell him where he could stick his advice, Sabrina wasn’t in much better shape. Her fingers held onto the bars of her side of the cage so strongly her knuckles were white, her weak arm trying to keep her from collapsing to the ground. Her breathing was hard and labored. A Noctowl stood on one of her shoulders, his feathers covered in blood and dirt.
“The loser… shouldn’t be giving advice to the winner,” she said after a couple inhales, forming a mocking smile.
“W-what!? You know full well that I could’ve killed you if I wanted to, just like-Agh…!”
Despite his wounds, the man reacted with a burst of energy as he suddenly stood up, his wild mane of ebon hair seemingly sticking up by indignation alone.
“Yeah, and that makes you even stupider,” Sabrina said. “Besides, these Pokemon aren’t mine. I didn’t train or nurture them. I just use them for fighting.”
“...Really. I see…”
His anger suddenly placated by those words, the man turned to look at his unconscious partner, his Scyther, and placed a soft, careful hand on his forehead. A smile formed on his lips.
“That’d explain why you use such reckless tactics,” he whispered, turning to look at her. “Then, those Pokemon… it’s a little sad, don’t you think? That you’re not able to call them your friends.”
Sabrina let out a despective snort. “Don’t misunderstand me. Even though they don’t belong to me, we’ve been through thick and thin together. Whether I like it or not, these Pokemon are my partners, and…”
Only then realizing what she was saying, Sabrina’s eyes went wide and she opened her mouth to quickly change the topic, but it was too late.
“HA!” The man exclaimed, pointing at her with a victorious smile. “I knew it!”
“S-SHUT UP!” Sabrina barked, crimson rising to her cheeks.