Chapter 6: R16 | Wall
Eighty thousand stomped their feet in unison. It weighted a cloudless sky with anticipation. The jumbotron flashed: ARE YOU READY? 24. 23. 22. Their voices pealed the numbers, shaking with increased intensity the closer they reached the finality of zero. Above a blimp circled. Under its proud Devon Corp. logo, the command: MAKE SOME NOISE!!!
Sunday, September 21. Three weeks before the world ended. The bracket stage now fully in motion. From here on out no second chances remained. Win and continue. Lose and die.
Toril Lund, who wouldn't play Lachlan Nguyen until the next day, entered a VIP observation booth to find it disappointingly occupied. She froze, unsure whether to back out or squeeze into a corner, and the fat man beckoned her to join his small party.
"Ten! Nine! Eight!" they chanted. Toril hated to miss an opener—the whole pace of the battle depended on it—so she shuffled behind them to peer down the sheer slope of bodies to the arena floor.
She shared the booth with four. The fat man, a Gardevoir, and two fellow competitors. "Three! Two! One! Zero!"
A trumpet of the gods, stronger than so many people capable together of shaking the heavens or at least this stadium, blared. Toril covered her ears and watched Jinjiao Zhang and Aracely Sosa enter the arena from opposite ends.
"Let's fucking GO! That's my girl! That's my Cely!" the fat man howled.
Realization nailed Toril in the gut. This was him, the elusive Dad who gave Aracely everything: Domino Sosa. He looked nothing like the footage she'd seen, though he wore the same suit.
"Alright kids last chance to change your bets." Domino clapped at the others. "One million on my girl. You're gonna be shocked when she takes this."
"Dog, no damn way," said Raj Viswambaran. Kicked back in his seat with oversized sneakers on the glass, he couldn't have been more at ease. He handily won his match Friday, sealing a quarterfinals spot. "I'm sure you're a great coach but it's doomed bruv. No hate. I scrimmed Jinjiao. He doesn't make mistakes."
"Yeah. And your daughter? Kinda sucks," said Yui Matsui. Yui, like Toril, played the next day.
Domino flashed them a knowing smile, like they were suckers, but Toril recognized better than anyone a gambler addicted to losing money.
Aracely and Jinjiao ascended their platforms.
"Hey, hey, hey. Toril's gotta bet too." Domino cocked a thumb. "Almost got her ass whooped by Cely. Maybe she's got the faith."
This drew chuckles from Raj and Yui and even the fucking Gardevoir.
"Jinjiao tells me they're friends now," said Raj.
"No!" said Toril. "No we're not. We're not friends. And I'm not betting. On her or Jinjiao. I don't gamble."
"Weak," said Yui.
My boot on your throat then we'll see who's weak—
"Shh, shh, it's starting. LET'S GO CELY! LET'S GO BABY!"
Aracely, enlarged to colossal proportions on the jumbotron, flourished her Poké Ball with a smile aimed at the camera before she threw. Her skin shone in the sun. Everything about her was perfect: hair, makeup, clothes, accessories. As expected. It sickened Toril as much as it enraptured her, as much as it made her blink when the camera cut to Jinjiao tossing his own Poké Ball.
Their voices were transmitted over speakers.
"Go! Momokins!"
"Go, Mofang!"
Aracely's Momokins appeared first. It stood upright on two legs, despite its feline features. Its lazy eyes shifted behind the mask-like shape of its facial fur. Unfazed by the calamity of the human ring around it, it bowed stately and elegantly, then produced a flower that appeared to float in midair. A magic trick—the stem was hidden. Typical behavior for its species: Meowscarada, the Magician Pokémon.
Jinjiao's Mofang was a giant mushroom, Amoonguss.
Toril crossed her arms. Yeah, Aracely was doomed.
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"Jinjiao runs walls."
"Walls?"
"You don't know what a wall is. Unreal."
"Okay Tors, tell me. What's a wall."
"A beefy fat fuck. It sits there and soaks damage. Then it puts some status effect on you so all it has to do is wait for you to faint."
"Oh right. Jinjiao plays slow. Defensive. Like Dad."
"I dunno what people were playing twenty years ago. But yeah, slow. Jinjiao can afford to be slow because he never makes mistakes. Ever."
"Then I force him to make a mistake."
"Wrong. You already lost. He just won't. Even in bracket, where it's six-on-six and games go longer. That's why he's the second seed."
"You're the third and you made a mistake."
"I lost my mind. Jinjiao won't."
"Dad gave me flowcharts to follow depending on which Pokémon he sends out."
"Wrong. That's reactive thinking. Old man thinking. If you're reacting to what Jinjiao does, you're losing. Slowly, but losing. Losing in the least embarrassing way possible—but losing."
"Okay. So-o... what do I do?"
"Control the tempo. Get ahead of him. Act before he does. Hack chinks in his walls. Bring them down one by one."
Jinjiao extended one hand upward, fist clenched. With a sudden violent action he brought the fist down.
At Jinjiao's back, where thousands sat stacked atop each other, a tremendous chunk suddenly became solid red. Like everyone spontaneously exploded and their blood was enough to paint the stands fifty feet in every direction. Like some legendary Pokémon, some god forgotten and forsaken, blotted them with a phantom fingertip. Like the terrorist attack that once put Mom in a coma. Like MOTHER's prophecy.
But no. It wasn't blood they became, but cardboard.
Hundreds—thousands—held up red cardboard signs, not a gap between them. The red caught the sun and blinded Cely until she visored her eyes. Without looking back, Jinjiao cut his hand through the air, and at his signal, the signs flipped over. Still red, but with a yellow character emblazoned on the center, its lines crossing sign after sign to form a single piece of calligraphic script:
金
So that was Jinjiao's first wall. The wall behind him, because he was strong, he was the favorite, he was a winner. The people wanted to win as much as the competitors, so they attached themselves to winners. They say people love underdogs, but that's not true.
They love underdogs when they win.
"Okay Momokins! Let's do this. U-turn!"
Momokins was quick. It shot forward, kicked off the fat lump of fungus, and launched back to Cely at the same velocity. Cely didn't realize it'd somehow gotten hurt in the process until after it disappeared inside its Poké Ball. Amoonguss wore a sheath of sharp, rocky shards. Rocky Helmet, the item was called, though it wasn't exactly a helmet. It hurt whatever touched it.
It didn't matter. Amoonguss' usual move was to inflict sleep with Spore, but Momokins was a grass type, so it wouldn't work on him. That meant Jinjiao wouldn't use it this turn, which gave Cely the opportunity to bring in her best piece immediately.
"Slowking!"
He appeared. Assault Vest terror, versatile bulky sweeper, regenerator on swap, his brain long devoured by the Shellder clamped across the better part of his head. His veins pulsed purple with the poison from Shellder's bite and who knew which part of the symbiotic-parasitic partnership truly controlled his wretched body. Caught this creature one suicide-inducing summer in the wastes of Galar's Crown Tundra and like all Dad's favorites he was a complete freak of nature but now he was the harbinger of Jinjiao Zhang's doom. U-turn cut a nice chunk of flesh off Amoonguss and this Galarian Slowking was here to burn down the rest with one searing blast of Flamethrower.
"Heh. Mofang, use Spore."
The golden 金 drove the sun's rays into her skin.
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Slowking, enveloped in a spray of fungal particles, went straight to sleep.
"GG." Raj kicked his feet off the glass and jackknifed his body into an abrupt standing stretch. "Jinjiao will grind it out but he ain't losing from here. Who wants snacks?"
"Sour gummies," said Yui. "That how you drew it up coach?"
Domino gripped his forehead through the crumpled brim of his fedora. His Gardevoir, Brittany, patted his shoulder. "Dammit. I had another plan, but she insisted—and after last time—bah! Why'd the punkass use Spore if Momokins was on the field?"
"Your daughter's dumb is rubbing off on you old man," said Yui.
"Protean. An easy predict," said Raj before he disappeared out the door.
Protean, Meowscarada's ability, changed its type to the type of its last-used move. So even if it didn't switch out, unless it used a grass-type move—useless against Amoonguss—it would change to a type that couldn't resist Spore. Jinjiao never needed to predict a swap at all.
"Wah, wah," said Yui: deadpan trombone. "Sorry for your loss, coach."
"It's not over yet," said Toril.
"Right!" Domino hopped up, smoothed out his hat, and set to pacing. "Jinjiao blunders. One misstep, one break in his wall, and the rest comes tumbling after."
"Jinjiao, blunder?" said Yui.
"He won't," said Toril. "But Aracely can get lucky."
Yui said nothing to that. Amoonguss put Slowking to sleep, but lacked any way to hurt it. Jinjiao needed to spend the next turn swapping to a bigger threat. There was a chance—a small chance, but a chance—for Slowking to wake up then. No skill or knowledge played into it. Only luck.
Like Pewter City. Meeting Bill, stealing his flash drive, throwing it to Nilufer. Aracely couldn't have planned that. It'd been dumb luck.
A strong sense, stupid and superstitious but unnaturally potent, entered Toril: Aracely was a person who got lucky a lot.
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"Mofang, return. Go, Degula."
It was a Pokémon Aracely knew well: Gliscor. Fanged winged bat trailing a long tail. Aracely didn't care. She'd expected the swap and locked in her command.
"Slowking, wake up and use Surf!"
Her voice needed only reach him in his slumber. A sharp call from his trainer to drag him from somnolent depths. Come on. Wake up and suddenly Aracely has the advantage.
Slowking snored.
Lazy creep! Her hand smacked the console and her eyes went to the jumbotron to make sure the camera wasn't on her. It wasn't. She had some luck, at least.
No point keeping Slowking in anymore. Gliscor was faster and would use Earthquake. Aracely couldn't afford to take the hit.
"Slowking, return! Get out there, Gliscor!"
Her own Gliscor appeared to stare down Jinjiao's. A free swap, since Gliscor—part flying type—was immune to Earthquake.
Except Jinjiao's eyes gleamed behind his piss yellow Gunnars until he pushed them up the bridge of his nose with his middle finger. All behind him was unbroken red and gold and he, gold himself, melted into the wall that propped him up.
"Degula, use Stealth Rock."
So he predicted her swap, too. His Gliscor hunched, coughed, and hacked up a spray of sharp rocks that scattered across Aracely's side of the arena. The attack did nothing to her Gliscor, but any Pokémon she swapped in would take damage on entry—for the rest of the game, because her team had no way to clear the field.
This was starting to feel like the games she lost early in group stage, where she saw something she didn't know and did something dumb and it all unraveled so fast. Except she hadn't seen anything she didn't know. Amoonguss and Gliscor were Pokémon she anticipated. He simply outplayed her and looked smug doing so.
The vision of the future distorted, shifted off its natural line: a new image, one where she lost, and then—what? Nothing? All along nothing, of no importance, lucky to be a footnote on someone else's plaque before the world broke apart and erased her and human history with it? Or would she slink back to MOTHER after all?
Her eyes glazed as they examined Gliscor's moveset on the holoscreen. She lacked good options. No Stealth Rock, which was no good anyway against Jinjiao's team that had so many ways of healing itself. Through smoke-tinged vision she tapped a move.
"Knock Off."
It wasn't even a good move. Both Gliscors held Toxic Orb, which poisoned them the first turn they held it. (Gliscor, being a sick freak like everyone else, healed from poison.) Knocking it off now did nothing except mediocre damage.
Jinjiao's left eye twinged. "Degula, return. Go, Yinying."
He... swapped. He swapped?
Why?
Umbreon appeared and ate the swipe of Gliscor's tail that knocked off its held item (Leftovers). Negligible damage. Cely couldn't even consider it a win. Still, why?
What made him swap from that position?
Maybe his Gliscor's only damaging move was Earthquake. Maybe. Cely sensed something else, though. Something in that expression. What did he expect her Gliscor to do that threatened his own Gliscor? What could Gliscor do that threatened another Gliscor? Earthquake, no. Toxic, no. Poison Jab? Façade?
Then it hit her. A move she used once, back in regionals, against an early round gimmick opponent who only ran ground types.
Ice Fang.
He'd feared Ice Fang. Even from his winning position (or because of his winning position?) he was worried about the sub-single percentage chance she manifested Ice Fang ex nihilo.
Aracely blinked. She leaned forward.
The first hole in the wall appeared.
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"So what's the sitch." Raj tossed Yui her gummies and plopped a tub of everything-loaded nachos on the table. "Stealth Rock. Ouch."
Domino, pacing compulsively, gravitated toward the nachos, but Brittany barred him with her arms crossed in an X. "Oh come on. One? One won't kill me. Britt! I'm sweating out the calories anyway!"
The battle labored. Aracely's Gliscor used Earthquake, which hit Umbreon for minor damage, only for Umbreon to use Wish, which would heal it next turn. Here shone the nastiness of Jinjiao's stall composition. He gained advantages by degrees, small cuts, smart and safe plays, and his team's bulk and regeneration made any minor concessions erasable. Aracely, meanwhile, was never getting rocks off her side of the field.
She switched. When her own bulky sponge Tangrowth dropped onto the arena, the rocks dug into its vined flesh. Umbreon complemented this damage with its own attack, and although it took recoil from Tangrowth's Rocky Helmet, the advantage went to Jinjiao. Again.
Maybe the match was over. Interest dissipated. Raj chatted up Domino about another match entirely—IPL 44 finals, Domino Sosa versus Red Akahata.
"Bully battle. Really coulda been yours. Say I've got this commemorative trading card with you on it. Mind signing?"
Tangrowth used Leech Seed to force out the Leftovers-less Umbreon, but Jinjiao predicted the move and preemptively swapped to Toxapex, yet another impenetrable wall with self-regenerative capabilities. Aracely expected Toxic, so she swapped to Aegislash—immune to poison—only for Jinjiao to use Toxic Spikes instead. Rather than poison the Pokémon on the field, Toxic Spikes were, like Stealth Rock, hazards that remained on the arena floor. They poisoned any Pokémon Aracely swapped in.
It seemed Aracely fell short of Jinjiao's caliber. Some battlers were simply better.
Did Toril hope to see Jinjiao struggle, to absolve herself of struggling? To prove she remained on Jinjiao's level, on Raj's level, on the level necessary to win? Jinjiao didn't make mistakes. Toril did. That difference became a gulf in Toril's mind no seething strangulation of phlegm filled.
Aracely swapped to Slowking. Competent move—which showcased the whole problem. Slowking, though asleep, absorbed the poison of Toxic Spikes with his own toxic body, clearing them from the field. In that sense, Aracely acted correctly. But every swap she made cut into her Pokémon's flesh with Stealth Rock. And Jinjiao kept forcing her to swap. Bit by bit they were being whittled down, while Cely did zero damage in return. Besides that, it made her predictable. The same turn she swapped to Slowking, Jinjiao swapped to his Gliscor. Aracely needed to swap again.
As long as Jinjiao controlled the tempo, he made Aracely dance on the palm of his hand. Toril almost lost to this. Raj suddenly laughed—at her? No. Something Domino said as he signed Raj's card.
When Toril glanced back down, Aracely did something insane.
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Cely kept Slowking in.
Why? Simple. Jinjiao didn't make mistakes. So she would make the mistake first. A mistake he didn't force—a mistake he didn't expect.
The song-and-dance of this battle already dragged so long her Slowking had faced his Gliscor before. When that happened, she swapped Slowking out, and Jinjiao predicted it. He hadn't used Earthquake, but Stealth Rock.
Jinjiao didn't make mistakes. He'd anticipate consistent behavior.
"Slowking you bum, wake up! Wash it away with Surf!"
Jinjiao's teeth flashed. "Heh. Degula, Earthquake."
He expected it?!
A seismic tremor rocked the arena. She gripped the sides of her platform for balance as her holoscreen blurred. The arena was designed for this. The stage split open with a fissure that, by hidden mechanical means, resealed as soon as the attack ended. Slowking ate the brunt and his health plummeted, though he was fat enough to survive.
Only survival mattered. Now Slowking would wake up and wreak equivalent havoc. Jinjiao didn't make mistakes, but this correct play would be turned into a bad one by luck alone. Cely felt it, the line of fate, seething between her clasped hands. Slowking, you'll wake up now. You'll wake up!
Slowking snored.
Jinjiao spat a sharp, mocking laugh as Cely gripped her forehead.
"Off the field already you turd," she shouted. "Go, Aegislash!"
The haunted sword manifested. Its gleaming steel body, one lifeless eye staring from the hilt, might have seemed cool. If not for its held item. Tied to its pommel was a string, and from that string floated a single red balloon. It was enough to elevate Aegislash a foot off the ground, though it turned it into the dumbest-looking Pokémon in Cely's arsenal. (High bar for that dubious honor.)
The balloon did its job, at least. When Gliscor used Earthquake, the shocks didn't reach the floating Aegislash.
Aegislash used Shadow Ball; Jinjiao switched to Umbreon, which resisted it.
"Aegislash, Close Combat."
"Yinying, switch."
"Omigosh you are obnoxious!"
"Go, Xiaojin."
The thing that appeared glowed gold. As gold as the ineffable 金 held aloft at Jinjiao's back. A Pokémon both Dad and Toril warned Cely about, the most feared Pokémon at the tournament. Raj Viswambaran, seed 1, had one. Minhyuk "SkiLL" Park, seed 4, had one. So did seed 6, Didier Benssalah, and seed 8, Jacq Ray Johnson. But it matched Jinjiao best, in his Umbreon color-coordinated outfit he apparently wore every day. The Pokémon didn't simply look gold, it was gold. It was made of one thousand gold coins, shaped into the mascot for a string cheese brand, riding a skateboard.
Gholdengo.
To complete its already goofy look, it wore an Air Balloon like Aegislash, which let it hover (skateboard and all) a foot above the ground.
Because Gholdengo was a ghost, Aegislash's fighting-type Close Combat did nada.
Her true fate. Dispatched at the hands of this exercise in idiocy. Standing here in the arena, surrounded by tens of thousands, swept by their indomitable sound, party to herself magnified exponential and immaculate on the jumbotron, she'd truly believed the narrative. Dad fed her that honey her whole life: nostalgic yearnings for a greatness he thought he once held, a point where his legs towered trunk-like atop the apex of the world, atop 8 billion bodies (minus 1), when he almost—almost—etched his name in the book of history. They called this tournament history. For this world that hadn't known war in a lifetime, that hadn't seen famine or pestilence or plague in twice as long, this became history. She'd bought in.
But here it was, in its truth. A goofy guy made of gold coins floating thanks to a single red balloon, staring down a living sword also floating.
She thought, intrusively, wouldn't it be so funny, so surprising, so shocking if she slit her throat right here on camera with a straight razor?
This was bad, she was succumbing to a bad headspace. She dug her nails into the flesh of her thigh. The narrative was whatever the world willed. Whatever she willed. And there was a thread, a meaning, like a little lip of string jutting from a crack, her fingertips slipping in their attempts to tug.
Jinjiao didn't make mistakes. But he feared Ice Fang.
That meant something. It had significance, if only she made it so. If she took that random atom and extrapolated, she could make it mean something.
She gazed straight into Jinjiao's eyes. Into them and through them, into the depths of his tragic little soul.
"Momokins," she said.
Momokins reappeared, got cut by the rocks, and then immediately received the brunt of Gholdengo's Shadow Ball. Though frail, Momokins resisted the attack, barely, on typing alone.
Her eyes never left Jinjiao's. She watched, she watched, she watched—
And Jinjiao blinked first.
"Xiaojin, return," he said. Exactly as expected. Momokins stood at a sliver of health, a gust of wind ended him, but Jinjiao didn't want to make a mistake. He didn't want to eat a hard hit on his most prized, most fearsome Pokémon, even if he finished one of Cely's own. That was too poor an exchange in his eyes, when any other Pokémon might do the trick.
The trick.
"Trick," said Cely.
"Yinying, you're in."
"Momokins, use Trick!"
Stooped, laboriously breathing, Momokins attempted anyway to maintain his debonair demeanor. Abuse ill suited him, he sometimes crumpled under only a scream. Ziggy's lemon shimmer reverberated in the gold coating of her adversary and she wondered whether Momokins might crumple too, fail to accomplish the task she set for him. He motioned to the band he wore around his wrist, showed it to Jinjiao and the crowd alike, shaky smile to preclude an eyelid flutter, and the moment all eyes misdirected to the fatigue on his face, his paws flashed around one another and the band was gone.
Whoever worked the cameras (maybe Mom, she mentioned something once about transitioning backstage) knew their stuff. The jumbotron cut immediately to Umbreon. Around its neck it wore the band that had been on Momokins' wrist. The Choice Band.
In an ideal world, Trick didn't simply move the user's held item to their opponent, it also swapped the opponent's item to the user. But Cely knocked off Umbreon's Leftovers long ago, so Momokins got nothing. For him, though, the crowd's applause was enough, and slightly steadier he spread his arms to bask in their approval.
Jinjiao lay barren of amusement. Because of Choice Band, Umbreon was now locked to a single move per switch.
She strained herself against his glasses, pressed her palms to the yellow lenses, phased through slow and semisolid smiling toward him. Into his eyes, into his brain, feeling the way he tick-tick-ticked, imbibing his spinal fluid. In golden glow no dark clouds can come. Her arms extended, fingers pressed into her mudras. Milk and honey and this world a-tilt.
"Yinying, return," Jinjiao said. "Go, Mofang."
"Knock Off."
At those words Jinjiao's lips spread involuntarily, forced by Cely's god-finger prodded deep within, gums bared and teeth neat and tidy. Knock Off. What idiot would use Knock Off now, he thought. Unless she predicted the swap—and she shouldn't, she shouldn't have predicted it, not when a single move finished off Meowscarada for good—unless she predicted it, all she expected Knock Off to do was knock off the Choice Band she only one turn prior put on Umbreon. That's what you're thinking now Jinjiao, isn't it? You're scanning your flowcharts for the logical process that led to this decision.
There was no logical process. She simply knew you.
Creature of love and fear. So small, so slim, so in appearance dissimilar, but she knew you now.
You were her Dad.
He never made mistakes either. He just got unlucky.
Knock Off required only half the finesse of execution as Trick, so the shivering figure of her Momokins managed it with less aplomb. Amoonguss' rocky sheath coating came off with one final scrape against Momokins' skin, but the damage was done.
"You're so stupid," he said. He actually said it into his mouthpiece, piping it out over the arena at her, at every person in the audience. "You're actually so dumb, do you know that? What are you smiling for? You're still losing. You're still behind, idiot." His finger jabbed his holoscreen. "Mofang—Sludge Bomb."
"U-turn."
Momokins inhaled deeply, collected himself, and launched at Amoonguss. He landed the hit, ricocheted, and left the field before Amoonguss got its attack off.
Now it was time to win this game.
"Kommo-o."
It was her sixth Pokémon. Was it coincidence she used none of the three from her loss to Toril? Bad vibes, though Dad agreed to this team too. Serendipity is when feeling and fact tie together.
Kommo-o, the Alolan dragon, stood bipedal with massive grasping claws that reached the floor. Thick, loose scales shuddered across its body as it swayed, and the sound of the scales striking its flesh loosed a sonorous chime that crawled its way up Jinjiao Zhang's back. Jinjiao's fangs remained bared, he did not blanch or frown, but Cely needed no visual indicators to read his aura.
Sludge Bomb did nothing. Kommo-o was Bulletproof.
Dad would be howling from the VIP booth. We talked about this Cely! You can't bring out Kommo-o whenever you freaking feel like it! Save her until Amoonguss and Toxapex are down! Yet here Amoonguss was, low health but staring her in the face; and Toxapex waiting in the wings.
Simply another idiot move from Cely Sosa, right Jinjiao? The cancer eating away your precious tournament. All she makes are bad moves, and you never make mistakes.
As Cely knew he would, Jinjiao switched out Amoonguss. Exactly like how he swapped out Gliscor earlier. He thought Kommo-o had Flamethrower, which would eliminate Amoonguss in one hit.
As Cely knew he would, Jinjiao sent in Toxapex.
"Clangorous Soul," Cely said.
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Domino pressed his face to the glass. "No, no, what are you doing! I said WAIT until Toxapex is gone!"
"Wow. Clangorous Soul right in Toxapex's face." Yui popped a gummy into her mouth. "She's so trash."
"Jinjiao uses Haze here," said Raj. "Then it's the most over a match ever was."
"Unless," said Toril.
"Unless what?"
"Unless Toxapex doesn't have Haze."
"If it didn't have Haze why'd Jinjiao send it out? He knows Kommo-o does Clangorous Soul."
Toril watched and waited.
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It worked like this.
Kommo-o bristled, and all the scales hanging from its body clanged. The sound cracked the arena air and the heavens holy in its deepness. Kommo-o only liked such sounds. It hated Cely's music.
The force of the scales striking its body hurt Kommo-o, though for the purity of the music it didn't mind. The biometrics showed its health drop a full third, atop the damage from Stealth Rock. In exchange, every single one of Kommo-o's physical attributes—attack, defense, speed, et cetera—shot up. The music energized it, or more accurately elevated its soul.
Amid the chimes, Kommo-o retrieved its item, a small bottle, and sprayed clear mist into its mouth. The throat spray softened its vocal chords, and allowed it to join with song the melody of its scales. Its power increased again.
All of this was highly stupid to do in front of Toxapex, a Pokémon that frequently ran Haze, which cast the stage in a gloomy murk that settled Pokémon down and reset their biorhythm back to normal. One move, and all the boosts of Clangorous Soul vanished, but the missing health remained.
Hence why Dad made sure she knew not to send out Kommo-o until Toxapex and Amoonguss were gone. Toxapex used Haze, Amoonguss used Clear Smog, which did the same thing.
But Jinjiao? You wouldn't take both those moves, would you? After all. You don't make mistakes. Two moves that did the same thing? Inefficient. Better to give yourself more versatility.
It was Toxapex who didn't have the move.
The wall of signs behind Jinjiao retained its overall structure, but a few within the mass felt the blood drain out their arms during the interminable stall. Small squares within the whole went black.
"Clangorous Soul," she said.
He said, scowling, not Haze, "Surf."
Kommo-o drove its health down once more, but now its body was a honed piece of work. The wave Toxapex ushered barely dragged Kommo-o half an inch.
A few more arms got tired.
"Boomburst," she said.
"Baneful Bunker!"
The arena exploded into thunderous cacophony.
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Raj sat up. He tried to speak, coughed on his nachos, painfully swallowed as he pressed his face to the glass. "Wait. Wait?"
"LET'S GO CELY THAT'S MY GIRL!"
"Wait. Wheel it back." Raj's fingers revolved. "I wasn't paying attention. How'd we get here?"
Domino pounded his fists against the table. The bowl of nachos jumped and Brittany caught it telekinetically to stop melted cheese from spraying everywhere.
"Jinjiao blundered? When? Where?"
Yui said nothing. Her sour candy puckered one cheek.
"He didn't blunder," said Toril.
He didn't blunder. Every individual move he made was logical. When did the tempo shift? When she swapped Meowscarada into Gholdengo? He shouldn't have allowed that. But to call it a blunder—even a mistake—no. It shouldn't have led to anything. Because he could always swap, which he did, to keep Gholdengo safe. Swapping benefitted Jinjiao due to Stealth Rock. He made a logical move.
In the arena, Toxapex hunkered down and shrouded itself with a thick coating of poison. Kommo-o's attack, no matter how empowered, failed to penetrate the defense. But the maneuver expended incredible effort on Toxapex's part—it wouldn't be able to repeat it next turn.
Knock Off. The key point was when Meowscarada used Knock Off immediately after tricking the Choice Band onto Umbreon. In a vacuum, getting Choice Band on a tank was a win, but Aracely expended most of Meowscarada's health to accomplish it. Ultimately, an even trade—and even trades benefitted the trainer in the winning position. But predicting an immediate swap and using Knock Off. Why did that happen?
Kommo-o used Boomburst again. This attack was so fucking loud it was hard for Toril to think rationally. That thick bastard Toxapex somehow survived, though the force dredged its rooted spines through the hard-packed earth until it nearly butted against Jinjiao's platform. Its vibrant eyes, peeking from beneath its thick folds of bulk, fluttered as it barely managed to spit out a spray of Surf that accomplished the tiniest chip in Kommo-o's vitality.
Jinjiao swapping immediately to Amoonguss from Umbreon—that too made sense. He expected Meowscarada to attack. Amoonguss' Rocky Helmet would lower it to the point where it couldn't possibly attack a second time without fainting. Unless Aracely managed to take off the Rocky Helmet with her first attack. Exactly what she did.
Toxapex recovered enough to use Baneful Bunker again, blocking Kommo-o's attack. Jinjiao was now stalling to no advantage whatsoever. Either he switched out Toxapex next turn—and probably lost whatever he switched into—or sacked Toxapex.
Jinjiao didn't blunder. Aracely simply read him—read him and read him and read him, three times in a row.
("Now your end of the deal. How'd you know Rillaboom was actually Zoroark?"
"Easy. I read you."
"That doesn't answer the question. You didn't know about Grassy Terrain. So how did you read me? What logical thought process did you follow?"
Her head tilted, her smile sly, slick with a condescension that needled Toril's innards.
"No logic. I just read it on your face.")
"She read him," Toril said. "She read his mind."
"Only Pokémon are psychic." Yui reached out and gave Brittany a stroke on the shoulder. "Humans just fake it. Like Sabrina."
Jinjiao elected not to swap out Toxapex. Kommo-o's explosive pulse of sound struck it. It wavered, slumped. Jinjiao returned it to its Poké Ball. Aracely Sosa, incomprehensibly, drew first blood.
"Damn bro. This might be the best match of the round," said Raj. "And I thought R16 would be a bloody snore."
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Jinjiao sent out Gliscor. Cely barely needed to think. Boomburst, she commanded, and all Gliscor did in return was use Protect, a move similar to Baneful Bunker. Stalling. For what?
More and more squares of the 金 lowered. Pieces flecking off the whole.
Jinjiao swapped out Gliscor for Gholdengo. Boomburst, a normal move, passed harmlessly through Gholdengo's ghostly form.
Kommo-o knew other attacks. But why was Jinjiao doing this? Toril clawed her way back by retreating into a zone of pure mathematics, blank and obtuse and unreadable. What was Jinjiao's zone? He hunched, one hand on his head, eyes darting, gold-locked hair askew. He wore it on his sleeve, well enough even an antisocial weirdo like Toril could tell. He was in major trouble. Was it possible he lacked any plan at all? That of all his Pokémon, none beat the tremendously buffed Kommo-o?
The obviousness of his face annoyed her. His palpable fear distracted. What was in his head behind that? What was his plot?
He planned to swap out Gholdengo. He wouldn't risk losing his ace. Did he intend to scout Kommo-o's moveset?
Jinjiao still had one unknown Pokémon. Any hypothetical hopes rode on that. Cely remembered what Toril told her: He has one Pokémon he hasn't shown all tournament. Definitely a game changer. It won't be just another wall.
He needed information about Kommo-o's kit to make a safe swap to his mystery final Pokémon. Previously, he swapped out Amoonguss, expecting Kommo-o to use Flamethrower. But was he sure Kommo-o even had Flamethrower? Sending Gholdengo out, immune to Boomburst but weak to Flamethrower, was him attempting to learn.
"Boomburst," Aracely said. And Jinjiao dragged his palm down his face as he called for Gholdengo to swap to Amoonguss.
Kommo-o's blast wrenched Amoonguss out of the ground by the stalk. It landed a few seconds later, totally out of commission.
Two Pokémon down, four to go.
Gliscor came out again. It used Protect again, Aracely used Boomburst again.
Or maybe he intended to drain Boomburst's Power Points? The IPL instituted arbitrary limits on how often a Pokémon was allowed use the same move, ostensibly for game balance. These limits were called Power Points. Boomburst had sixteen PP. She'd used eight and only taken out two of his Pokémon. At this rate she'd run out.
He planned to swap to Gholdengo again to eat another Boomburst for free.
"Clanging Scales," Aracely said.
A dragon type move. It'd finish off Gholdengo without revealing Flamethrower. Now switch.
Jinjiao didn't switch.
Kommo-o, who had gotten comfortable spamming the same move over and over, seemed to sigh as it dragged its claws down its body to scrape off a smattering of scales. It swung them like cymbals, creating a reverberating crack that ripped through Gliscor with all sonic strength. Gliscor clamped its claws to its ears to no avail. The sound caused its eyes to go haywire—its tail buckled under its weight—it fell.
Three Pokémon down.
On Cely's holoscreen, the consequence of removing some of its scales manifested: Kommo-o's defenses lowered a smidge.
She forgot. She forgot the move did that.
Surely it didn't matter. Kommo-o's defenses were still high, even if its health was low, and it moved faster than any possible Pokémon Jinjiao sent out. What difference did it make?
Delusion. She saw into Jinjiao's eyes and already knew.
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"Three down. Three fucking down!" Domino smacked his hands together and fuck he was nearly as loud as Kommo-o. "Keep up the heat Cely! Fuck yeah!"
"We're gonna see it," said Raj. "Jinjiao's mystery final Pokémon."
"If it drops in one hit," said Yui, "who cares."
"You guys know what it is?" Raj plopped into his chair backward to stare down Yui and Toril. "I mean, not like I know for sure. Footage of Bohai regionals is tough to snag outside the region. I managed a few reels though."
"Yap and you'll miss the battle," said Yui.
"Just saying. When you see it you'll shit bricks. On god."
Jinjiao Zhang reached for a Poké Ball. He held it to his lips and kissed, eyes closed in ritualistic prayer. At least, that's how it looked to Toril. Maybe she had occultism on the mind.
"My hopes rest on you." Jinjiao wound up his throw. A practiced, multi-stepped process. "Go—Kekayin!"
The crowd's omnipresence dropped to perfect silence as the ball traveled through the air. The jumbotron cameras followed its downward arc, its impact against the ground, its ricochet upward. They watched it open, traced the spray of light to the figure manifesting on the arena floor, and Toril in this staggered space felt her breath catch, trapped in stern wonder as to whether Aracely might actually pull off the upset.
The Pokémon that appeared was—
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"I don't get it," Aracely said aloud. She stared at the Pokémon standing opposite Kommo-o.
I don't get it. Isn't Lopunny total trash?