On Scorched Wings

by scrimshanks

Summary:

Jane Sinclair sits at a crossroads: twenty-one years old, with no prospects or future in sight. All of her friends and family have left her behind, chasing their own dreams. When she receives an endorsement to join this year's Gym Challenge, she knows she ought to refuse. Her grandmother would never approve, for one. And for another, the Challenge is for the talented and the foolish, of which she is neither. She ought to refuse. She ought to.

But her heart sings a different song. A song of glory, of fire. Of persistence, against all odds. A song of hope.

Chapter 1: false dawn

Against the dark curtain of a moonlit sky, some stars burn brighter than others.

Most people can point out a few of them from memory alone. Polaris, the North Star, a constant brilliance amid the ever-changing fields of stars. Centre of the entire world, in his own unique way. Sirius, the Dog Star. Brightest among her peers, who heralds the arrival of summer and disappears as the leaves begin to fall. A rarer few can point out constellations, etching patterns across the canvas of the night, ascribing meaning to random balls of plasma burning up in space that is millions of lightyears away.

Humans have a tendency to do that: finding the extraordinary in the ordinary.

But Sirius is only special because of how bright she burns, standing out amongst a field of her peers and demanding the attention of the observer. Polaris is only special because of his unshifting place in the night sky, a guiding light for those in need. For every star that humanity has given a name, there are billions more who simply aren’t noteworthy enough to imbue meaning into. Together, they form a beautiful symphony of light, but on their own, each is indistinguishable from the rest. Every star needs a supporting cast, and it’s a thankless role. At the end of the day, there was one single, immutable fact: not every star in the sky could burn as brightly as Sirius. None of them could take her place, even if they wanted to.

Occasionally, on cloudless nights, Jane finds herself looking up and trying to find comfort in the unremarkable. Tells herself that if the stars themselves can be satisfied with a supporting role, then so could anyone. But there is a yearning within her chest—a craving within her heart—that begs to be heard, that screams to be seen. A scar burned onto her soul. And it refuses to fade away.

But after twenty-one years of waiting, of hoping… maybe it’s time to accept that there isn’t anything remarkable about her at all.

As the sound of snapping twigs fills her ears, Jane snaps back to earth. Her shoes crunch down on piles of autumn leaves, the first of the season to touch the ground. When August left, it stole the last winds of summer along with it, and now the eager nips of September have taken their place. Wedgehurst isn’t a busy town at the best of times, but once autumn claims it, it’s basically a ghost town. When the sun sets, the town bundles up and bunkers down, the buzz and energy of the day giving way to a soft, unbreakable stillness.

What would it be like to live in a city that never sleeps? Where hundreds of thousands of people could coexist, filling out the background of each other's lives but never crossing paths. There’s probably a loneliness in it, she thinks, but that can be found anywhere. She knows that better than most people.

“This is the year, mate,” says Hop, two paces ahead of her at all times. He shifted with an intolerable energy, equal parts anxiety and excitement. “He can’t turn me down again this year.”

“You could always try getting an endorsement from someone else,” she replies, checking the time on her phone. They still have a few minutes. “He’s not the only person capable of giving them out, y’know.”

“Aye, but it wouldn’t feel right elsewise.” He shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Besides, who else is there to ask, out here in the middle of nowhere? Your Gran?”

Jane concedes the point.

She and Hop are inseparable, and always have been. Born in the same year, just like Sonia and Leon, they are practically siblings of their own. Still, they’re an odd pair, and she is the first to admit that. Where he is loud, she is not. Where he is sociable, she is not. Still, it works for them. Hop fills the silence, seemingly with no care for what is actually being said, and she only responds when she actually has something to say. They understand each other, and at the end of the day, they only have each other.

At the heart of Wedgehurst lies the train station. The recurring joke, made by locals hundreds of times before, goes like this: the most valuable part of the town is the ability to leave. The station itself is beautiful, with ornate stone bricks kept meticulously clean for the sake of appearances. It is any tourist’s first impression of the town—it’s probably more appealing than the fields of wooloo between here and Postwick, or the shitty, broken playground that’s nearly a hundred years old.

Granted, the illusion is shattered immediately upon stepping outside, but still.

As the station comes into view, a train pulls away, echoing with a chorus of clanging bells as it chugged back down the line. 11pm—they are just in time. Any moment now, the guest of honour will walk through those gates. A smile dances on Jane’s face, which she disguises by bringing her gaze to the ground. She looks back up as the train’s sole passenger comes into view.

Polaris himself, Champion Leon Khan of the Galar League. Undefeated for five years running. A prodigy of pokémon battling, serving not only the longest reigning champion in Galar's history, but also the youngest ever. He’d changed the game. He put Wedgehurst on the map. Chances are that if you heard the name in the past five years, it’s because of him. If he showed up on an earlier train, he’d have gathered a crowd of a dozen or so people. Which, by this town’s standards, is pretty much a riot. The fact that no one is crowding him now speaks more to Wedgehurst’s backwater nature than a lack of popularity on his part.

“Leon!” calls Hop, nearly leaping up into the air, before rushing off to meet him.

The champion’s head turns in their direction, and he gives a goofy smile just in time to be tackled in a hug by his younger brother. He dresses casually, wearing a denim jacket and some joggers. He’s out of Champion mode now—this is Human Leon. It’s nice to finally see him again. The massive cape and the dumb uniform are retired for the time being, until the next season officially starts up later in the month.

“Hey, Lee,” says Jane, as she finishes walking towards them. She jams her hands in the pockets of her jacket, not wanting him to see the way her fingers twiddle and twist.

“Jane,” he greets, returning her smile. His warm, golden eyes found hers, filled with memories of days long past. “Good to see you.” He pauses. “…Are you getting taller?”

“Ha ha.” She stopped growing by the time she started secondary school, and yet he makes this joke every time. “I see the media training hasn’t fixed your sense of humour.”

“Nah, they know I’ll get by with my roguish charm and sparkling personality.”

“Who are you fooling, Lee?” Hop scoffs “I’ve known rocks with more charm than you.” He snickers.

Hop is the worst at telling jokes—an ever-present impish smile never fails to reveal his internal laughter at punchline, before he even presented the setup. But there is something charming about it, too. Like you can always trust him to say what he means, because he is so laughably bad at hiding anything. Truly, one of the worst poker faces of all time.

“Ouch, Hop,” Leon replies, holding a hand over his heart. “Tell me how you really feel.”

“Alright,” Jane says flatly. But she can’t hide the joy that dances in her eyes. They are even worse as a duo. “Don’t quit your day jobs, guys. C’mon, let’s get you home.”

The three of them exchange a few more pleasantries. They ask Leon how his train ride was. He looks tired around the eyes, but he keeps smiling. That’s a good sign, she hopes. Hop doesn’t seem to notice. He’s too eager to chat up the legend in front of him, to bounce questions off of him at the speed of a runaway train. Leon looks tired, she notes again. He is always tired these days, it seems. The makeup teams that flank him down the streets of Wyndon like a personal entourage are nowhere to be seen, and nothing can hide the weary, dark circles that ring the undersides of his eyes.

Sometimes, Jane wonders if she’s the only one who sees them. Who notices the cracks when they appear. Or worse, if she deludes herself, if she completely fabricated those moments of vulnerability. It is much more comforting to think that he was just as human as the rest of them.

That is an easier pill for her to swallow, on today of all days.

It takes a moment, but her mind snaps back into focus. That is a dangerous path, one her thoughts had walked before, and it is not one to which she relishes returning. Human or not, it isn’t fair of her to ruin Leon’s homecoming with one of her bad moods.

No, if she has her way, he won’t think about her in the slightest.

Hop is still pestering Leon about his matches by the time she tunes back in—they had been walking a while, and the questions don’t seem anywhere close to stopping. She almost feels bad. Hop is a lot to handle on a good day, and that is without his idol of an older brother at his side. No, this is about six months of built-up excitement bursting forth from Hop all at once, and yet Leon handles all of the questions with the grace and dignity of someone who has a lot of press training.

“… can’t believe Raihan thought to challenge you to an exhibition match, again,” Hop is in the middle of saying, with Leon nodding along wearily. “There was no way you would lose to him, let alone before the season even begins.”

“Mmm,” Leon replies, shrugging. “It’s his right as the strongest Gym leader in this year’s circuit. It’s not like it was anything new to either of us. Besides, the people are expecting the exhibition match. It’s basically a formality at this point.”

“That’s exactly my point, though! He didn’t even bother switching up his team composition at all from last year, and you absolutely destroyed him. If he was going to take the chance, why bother repeating the same mistakes?”

Jane purses her lips, eyes flicking from Hop to the path ahead. Hop knows more about battles than her, at least in practice. He doesn’t have to hide under his covers in the dead of night, just to watch the new matches. In fact, going over to the Khan household during Challenge season is basically asking to get into an argument about battle strategy with someone, which Jane has zero interest in. But if there is one flaw with Hop’s battle tactics, it is the fact that he has the tendency to… miss the forest for the trees, as it were.

“No,” she says, catching both boys off-guard. “It wasn’t the same strategy as last year.”

“What?”

“Raihan is basically a ground-type specialist as much as he is a dragon-type specialist. His entire strategy revolves around chipping away at his opponents and stalling them out. But this is the first time he’s incorporated Stealth Rocks into his strategy. Leon’s go-to strategy is dynamic switches and the versatility of being a typeless specialist. And the rocks had Lee’s charizard locked down—which is why he only came in for the pointless Gigantamax at the end, once victory was already pretty much assured. A little excitement for the crowd. Raihan is basically refining his team to mess with Lee specifically, and it would have only taken a few wrong moves for it to have become a very different fight.”

The three of them stop walking, the boys first and Jane not long after. With their eyes burning into the side of her head, she turns to meet them. Hop mutters something about how it doesn’t matter, how he will never be caught using a losing team twice, but the pink tinge to his cheeks makes her feel a little bad about calling it out. He invests so much of himself into this, and she doesn’t want to upstage him.

Leon, meanwhile, appraises her with a scrutiny that she isn’t quite used to. His face is serious, eyes sharp as they search her face. Just as she inhales a breath to respond, his face splits into that familiar impish grin.

“Aw,” he chuckles, “did you break the rules just to watch my exhibition match, Janie? That’s so sweet.”

Her gaze twists away from his, suddenly aware of how his eyes burn when pointed towards her. “Only because Gran has been pretty busy recently. Too busy to pay attention.”

“Ah,” he nods, shoving his hands into his pockets. They continue walking.

He acts casual. He tries, anyway. Jane already sees his next question, a dark cloud looming over the conversation. If there is one thing that Leon shares with Hop, it is a complete inability to lie. He is just too expressive, even after five years of media training.

She is proud to say that she barely flinches as he finally broaches the subject.

“…Did Sonia watch, too?”

Silence swallows them, tension thicker than fog. Leon knows the answer before he even asks the question, but he asks anyway. Hop doesn’t know much, but he knows enough.

And Jane, well… Jane is the one who has to speak the obvious.

“…No, she said she was busy.”

“Ah. Fair enough.”

Leon and Sonia. Sonia and Leon. When they were younger, you could never find one without the other. When he was four, Leon declared that he was going to marry her someday, and it became a recurring joke between the families in the years that followed. In fact, bringing it up is pretty much a guaranteed way to make Leon lose his composure, even as the fearsome Champion of Galar. The Khan clan still makes the joke from time to time, though it lost a bit of its lustre now that there isn’t anyone to really share it with.

Sonia was the leader of their little quartet. It was hard to imagine now, but for a while, her word was pretty much law amongst the four of them. Leon in particular liked to follow her around like a lost puppy, and Sonia being more than happy to drag him into her schemes.

Things are different now. The two of them haven’t exchanged so much as a word in something like two years. And most frustratingly of all, the only person who knew why was Sonia herself, and she wasn’t eager to share. But that was hardly a surprise, at least to Jane. The Ice Queen loves to keep her secrets.

Even as Leon brushes off her answer, she sees the way he reels from the sting of it. Even after being iced out for nearly five years, the rejection is a sore spot. Jane sympathises. She positions herself in a middle ground between the two, refusing to disavow either one to the other. But it’d be easier to get on board with her sister if she actually bothered to explain anything.

“…Well, I’m glad you were able to see it,” Leon slips back into goofy older brother mode like a glove, even as hurt shadows his eyes in the glow of the streetlights. “It was a good match. I didn’t realise you had such a good grasp on strategy, Jane.”

Her eyes meet the dirt. From the corner of her vision, Hop puffs up, expression sparking with desperation. Fear. He needs to hear that from his brother way more than she does, and he was fishing for it for nearly twenty minutes. Jane had earned it in one. Her stomach twists.

“I picked it all up from Hop,” she chuckles, eyes fixed on the path. “He never shuts up.”

This is enough to bring Leon’s attention back to his brother, who puffs up in pride. If he recognizes what she was doing, he certainly doesn’t respond to it. The two of them launch back into a discussion about Raihan, and what Leon’s strategy would be for the upcoming season.

It’s the same conversation they always have—Hop boldly announcing whatever strategy he came up with, and Leon gently reminding him why it probably wouldn’t work. Hop never lets this get him down, and always comes back with another idea. And somehow, Leon never seems to get bored of having the same conversation, over and over again.

After a few more minutes of walking, Postwick came into view. A tiny little cul-de-sac on the edge of Wedgehurst—just five little houses, all lined up in a cute little semi-circle. Her home, as far back as she remembers. There wasn’t a time in her life where the Khans didn’t live just across the street, like a second family. Another home to go to whenever hers became a bit too much to handle at any given time.

“This is us,” says Hop, as the three of them come to a stop in front of the Khan residence.

It’s a large place, but there’s something inviting about it, almost enough to make her feel at ease just by standing outside. Beams of golden light streaming out from the windows, and she hears voices and laughter coming from within. Flashes of memory spring to her mind—Erina Khan’s plump cheeks and inviting smile, the warmth of her homemade macaroni on a cold winter day.

More of a home than anything else nowadays.

“You wanna come in and eat?” Hop’s eyes find her.

“Might keep the attention off me for a while,” Leon adds, smiling.

She can see right into their family room window, catching shadows of people moving past the window. Soon, their prodigal son will be home, and they will stay up into the night, pestering him about things, some important and others unimportant. Is he prepared for the Challenge season ahead? Is he eating well? When will he finally bring someone home to meet them?

Jane being there… she would just be out of place.

“I’m alright,” she replies, stretching a thin smile across her face. “Sonia and I are trying to get rid of some leftovers, so I should probably eat some of that. Plus, me showing up unannounced to your mum’s supper would be kinda rude, no?”

“As if she doesn’t make way too much food anyway,” Hop replies, scoffing. A goofy smile slides back onto his face. “Still, we’ll tell her you said hi.”

“Thanks.”

Leon steps forward, his honeyed eyes appraising her. There’s a flash of recognition, one that both frightens her and intrigues her. Whatever he sees, he simply offers her a sympathetic smile. Then, reaching down into his bag, he pulls out a small pink box, before offering it to her. She takes it, bemused, and his smile grows wider. More bashful.

“Sorry,” he says, chuckling. “I figured you’d already have enough cake, so I brought you something from this bakery in Wyndon. Hopefully it didn’t get squashed on the ride in.”

Popping the lid open, Jane finds herself staring at a set of four cupcakes, each with the number 21 carved into them with frosting. To his credit, they had actually held up pretty well.

“Happy birthday, Jane.”

He smiles, somehow both sheepish and inviting at the same time. She is at a loss for words, eyes drifting between him and the gift. After a moment, she wordlessly closes the box, tucking it underneath her arm. Her heart tickles, warming for a moment, before she nods.

“Thanks, Lee.”

“Holy shit, Jane,” Hop steps closer to her, his expression a mix of shock and embarrassment. “I totally fucking forgot, I’m so sorry. You know how it is with me and time, I didn’t like, forget-forget, I just didn’t realise that today was, y’know, today, so—”

“Hop, it’s okay,” she replies, giving him a warm smile. “I honestly kinda forgot about it too.”

“Alright,” he pulls back, eyes narrowed. “But we’re gonna do something together in the next couple days, alright? Let me buy you a drink or something.”

“With what money?” Leon asks. “Did you finally get a job between now and last spring?”

Hop’s cheeks flush, and he looks down at his shoes, muttering something about practice time. The three of them take a moment to laugh at his expense, and Jane finds her smile softening to a more genuine one. She is the first to recover, straightening up and nodding towards the door.

“Okay, you too shouldn’t keep your mum waiting. I’m sure she has a lot to talk about.”

“Night, Jane,” they say in unison, and she nods.

“G’night.”

She turns away, the golden light of the Khan household replaced by cool shadow. She crosses the lawn towards her family home, which was almost devoid of life, no light or sound to be found. She slips through the door as quietly as she can, but there’s no need for her to be cautious. The house is as empty as it usually is, Sonia’s shoes missing from the front door. Likely spending the night at their grandmother’s lab, passed out face-first in a book.

As Jane enters the kitchen, she flicks on the light. A harsh, dull buzzing enters her ear as a stark white light covers the empty room. It’s spotless, as always—sterilized, like you could expect out of a show home, or maybe a crime scene. On the counter, there’s a note, penned in Sonia’s perfectly pristine handwriting.

Leftover lasagna in the fridge. Dad is transferring grocery money on Tuesday. Be home late.

The note was written over a day ago, and Jane hasn’t seen her sister since then.

She looks down at the box of cupcakes in her hand, smiling faintly. The frosting on one of them didn’t survive the journey. She doesn’t mind quiet birthdays. She doesn’t really like having everyone’s attention on her, pestering her with questions that she can’t answer. It always makes her… just want to shrink away.

Still, it was nice to receive one present this year, outside of one briskly-written text from Sonia, a phone call with her dad, and a formal card from her grandmother.

Taking the roughed-up cupcake, she settles at the kitchen table, her shoulders slumping as her elbows rest on the polished wood. She sits in silence, her mind in the past. She remembers the last birthday she’d spent with Hop, Leon, and Sonia all in the same room. Her dad, and her mom, plus Mr. and Mrs. Khan…

She wants to cry. But she can’t. At this point, she’s just tired. Of everything.

A noise from the open kitchen window catches her attention, and she stands from the table, leaving her cupcake half eaten. Peeking from the curtains out into the inky darkness, she sees the Khan household, a beacon of light amidst the shadows. The sound is laughter, warm and instinctive and a mix of different voices. Rising above them all is Faizan Khan, who had passed his impish grin, boisterous laughter, and inability to tell jokes down to both of his sons.

For a single, weak moment, she is gripped with the desire to sprint from the house, to wrap her arms around him and cry into his chest. To eat Erina’s cooking, to eat anything other than old lasagna. To scrape and grovel for any attention she could get, to force herself into a family that has been nothing but kind and generous to her for twenty-one years. An intruder.

The moment passes. She closes the window, and sits back down. But the memory lingers.

By the time she turns in for the night, her bed is cold and her heart is hollow.

Chapter 2: wild embers

Summary:

"Why do you look like you're about to rob a corner store?"

"Because the Champion of Galar is really hurting for cash, don't you know?"

Wedgehurst, on the whole, doesn’t have much going for it.

Located in the ass-end of Galar, the town was founded several centuries ago by a community of Pokémon ranchers, and the town in the modern day reflects those humble beginnings. Its infrastructure is a tapestry of new and old—in the centre of town, the train station stands bright and gleaming, meticulously maintained by the tax dollars of its citizens. But two blocks away sits the old playground, installed in the 1930s and not looking a day younger. Several years back, some kids from the high school trashed one of the swings on the swingset, and it still hangs from its broken chain to this day.

And that playground is probably one of the more interesting things to see.

Maybe that’s why people around here venerate Leon with such fanatical worship. It’s no coincidence that the train station was installed the year after he became champion. Without him, the town could have just… faded away. To continue its anonymous existence—cut off from the outside world entirely.

Still. At least the scenery is nice.

On a bright, cloudless morning, Jane stares out at Lake Intrepid, located just to the north of Wedgehurst. There is about a twenty minute hike between the town and the lake, filled with rolling foothills and long, beautiful grass. The cobblestone paths of Wedgehurst give way to a trail of dirt and stone, leading all the way down to the brilliant blue of the lake’s shore. Though she still has the entire trip ahead of her, she finds herself pausing on the hill just outside the town, overlooking it all.

A sharp beak jabs into her wrist, shaking her from her thoughts.

“Ow!” She hisses, glaring down at the bird in her arms. “Careful, Altair!”

The rookidee chirps back, eye narrowed in irritation, before squirming in her grasp. She releases him, and he pulls himself up onto her forearm—talons squeezing tight, but not enough to break the skin. He ruffles his feathers, before preening pointedly.

“Sorry,” she says, biting her lip. “I guess I got distracted again, huh?”

He chirps again, not making eye contact with her. She sighs, leaving him to pout.

Jane met Altair about one year prior, during a hike through the forest to the south of Wedgehurst, wherein he leapt up from the underbrush, nearly clawing her to death. His left eye had been clawed out, forming a vicious scar down the side of his face. Furthermore, one of his wings was twisted into an odd angle, either due to a birth defect, or a broken wing that had healed incorrectly.

Once she was able to get him to stop attacking her, he calmed down pretty quickly, and was open to the idea of her taking him back home and treating him properly. Sonia and her grandmother helped patch up his wounds, but preliminary X-rays suggested that it was unlikely he would ever fly properly, and his vision would be permanently diminished. So Jane vowed to take care of him. As it turned out, he settled into domesticity fairly well, though the wing is still a sore subject.

“Look,” she says, lifting up her arm so they were face-to-face. “After brunch, we can go do some more flying practice together, okay? We’re getting closer, I can feel it.”

He chirps, still not making eye contact, but the grip on her forearm loosens.

“...Are you done?”

Standing a few paces ahead of her is Sonia, arms crossed and scowl omnipresent. Despite only having a few years between them in age, the two sisters are like night and day. Sonia is tall, proud, and poised, while Jane is none of the above. When Sonia enters a room, you can’t help but give her your attention. Jane, on the other hand… well. She’s just Jane.

A bark echoes from behind Sonia, as a boltund runs up to her and nuzzles into her leg. Pello was their family pet, once upon a time, but Sonia claimed ownership of him once their father started travelling abroad for work. Jane never fought her on this. The boltund had been attached to Sonia ever since he was a yamper, so it was just a matter of time until she claimed him as her own.

“Yeah, sorry,” Jane replies, bowing her head.

“It’s fine. I just don’t want to be late.”

That makes two of them.

They walk in silence for a long while, leaving behind the cold cobblestone of town and dirtying their shoes with the trail down to Lake Intrepid. Sonia’s eyes are focused down into her notebook, rereading the same passages over and over. She bites her lip, brow furrowing. They nearly reach the lake shore before conversation continues.

“Nervous?” Jane asks, trying not to sound too hopeful.

“No,” Sonia replies, naturally. “I’m just preparing myself for her questions.”

“You already got the project approved, didn’t you?”

“By the school, yeah.” A hint of a smile pulls at Sonia’s cheeks. “You and I both know that our grandmother is much scarier than a faculty board.”

Boy, is she ever.

Esther Magnolia is a woman of simple pleasures and single-minded purpose. Always has been. It’s hard not to respect a woman who had entered the world of xenobiology with zero support or backing and revolutionised the modern understanding of pokémon and their connection to natural energies, almost overnight. She’d spent a few decades up in Wyndon, shifting perspectives and opening doorways for future developments towards more sustainable energy, with pokémon working in tandem… and then disappearing to the far end of Galar to focus on independent research.

Her cabin, down by the shores of Lake Intrepid, reflects this practicality in every inch. A beautiful two-story cabin, constructed from black oak trees and painted a gorgeous, dark purple. A small garden is lined out in the front yard, lined with various root vegetables. Of course, it is tended by Magnolia’s group of trained gossifleur, of course—the Professor is far too busy with her research to concern herself with that. For more intense research, she makes the trip up to her lab in town, but for day-to-day research, she has a small research building made of glass, tucked away in the back. Even as she gets up into her late 60s, it is still a rarity to find her anywhere else.

The two of them walk up the front steps in unison, practised from years of family brunches. It is a tradition that started earlier than either of them could remember—something their mom had started, to keep in touch with her own mother despite moving out to start a family of her own. Of course, back then, it had been a tradition of alternating weekends, each side taking turns to host. Jane had been so young back then, but she can still recall the scolding she got on one Sunday morning when her room hadn’t been cleaned properly in time for her grandmother’s visit.

But that was then, and now it is just the three of them.

Sonia rings the doorbell, and it isn’t long before soft, but deliberate footsteps draw closer. The door swings open, revealing Professor Esther Magnolia, standing in front of them in a pristine white lab coat. Standing somewhere in between Sonia and Jane in height, her pale brown hair is pulled up into a tight, pristine bun. Triangular glasses sit upon her nose, partially covering stern blue eyes. Her expression is severe, and she looks between the two of them, with only the hint of a nod in greeting.

“Hello, girls,” she says, voice as tightly restrained as she is. “You’re late.”

“Sorry, Grandmother,” they reply, perfectly practised.

“I was helping Altair with some flight practice,” Jane offers. “And lost track of time.”

Magnolia looks down to the rookidee in Jane’s arms, and offers him a wisp of a smile. Extending her hand out, she gently places her hand on Altair’s head, giving a few small pats. The bird accepts this cordially, used to this little routine of theirs. Magnolia then withdraws her hand, affixing her gaze upon Jane once more.

“Jane,” she chides, in that tone of hers. Always that tone. Jane isn’t sure what she hates most about it: the disappointment, or the undercurrent of resignation.

“Sorry,” Jane says again, unable to even look in her direction. “It won’t happen again.”

“Right,” replies Magnolia, before opening the door further. “Well, come in then, the food should still be warm.”

It is a fairly average brunch between them, all things considered. They have been able to do them more often nowadays, with Sonia back in town for the summer, but the fact that this will be their last one for a while sits unspoken between them. Most of the conversation is occupied by discussion of Sonia’s research project, with she and Magnolia going back and forth, growing more passionate with each word.

They are mirrors of each other, in that way. Sonia had inherited a love of study and research from their grandmother at an early age. Magnolia claims that it was a result of an inquisitive soul, one eager to discover all that the world had to offer. Jane’s own theory? That Sonia simply couldn’t stand the idea of being wrong about something.

Jane sits silently for most of the conversation, her eyes turned into her food. It isn’t like she has much to contribute to the conversation anyway, and even if she did, neither of them are likely to pay her any heed. Instead, she makes a small game for herself—using the yolk of her eggs to fill in the moat of a castle made from the whites.

“...going, Jane?”

It’s a pain in the ass to get the yolk all the way around, but there can be no weak points, or else the hash brown hordes will surely…

“Jane!”

She snaps up, eyes wide. Both Sonia and their grandmother are staring at her, the former with pained sympathy and the latter with quiet disappointment. Silence hangs expectantly, and Jane’s cheeks warm. She swallows her food slowly.

“Um, what was the question?” Jane asks. She tenses when Magnolia simply sighs.

“Oh, Grandmother was just…” Sonia replies, swooping in to head off the scolding before it happens, “...asking how your make-up classes are going.”

“Oh.” Great. This discussion again. “Fine.”

“Just fine?” Like a sharpedo that scents blood, Magnolia homes in immediately upon a perceived weakness. “Are you passing them or not?”

“Yes?” Jane replies. “Kinda?”

Magnolia lets out a long sigh, and she rests her head in her hands for a moment. Shame runs sharp down Jane’s back, and she feels herself shrinking away. Silence hangs heavy over the breakfast nook, with Sonia taking a considerable interest in her eggs, while Jane tries desperately to look anywhere else.

“What am I going to do with you, Jane?”

It isn’t the first time she’s heard those words. In fact, this entire conversation has been remixed between them countless times over the years, all variations on a theme. She is the fuck-up, the one who always gets it wrong. She likes to think that she’s come to terms with it at this point, but each time the knife twists harder.

“I’m trying,” she croaks, voice giving out. She can’t even bring herself to tears anymore, just a quiet, passive acceptance. “It’s just not… it’s not as easy for me.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Magnolia scoffs. “I have put in the work to get where I am, just like anything else. Nothing in life came easy to me, but I put in the work and I found results.”

“I’m… I’m trying,” Jane repeats, like a mantra.

“Honestly, Jane. You graduated how long ago? Three years?” Magnolia takes a long sip of her coffee, as though she is winding up for a finishing blow. “I’ve tried to give you your space and time to make up for your poor performance in school, but if you don’t get your act together soon, your entire life will leave you behind.”

“I… I know, Grandmother.”

“If you want universities to take you seriously, you need to improve that maths mark. I mean, did you even bother to apply again this year?” Jane hadn’t. Somehow, the idea of another year spent receiving a series of rejection letters hadn’t appealed to her.

“I… no, but…”

“I have an idea.” Sonia speaks up, and both pairs of eyes snap towards her. “What if Jane came with me on my research trip, as an assistant for my project?”

“W-what?” Jane can’t hide the shocked quiver in her voice.

“Well, think about it,” Sonia continues, leaning back in her chair. She is immensely pleased with herself, unable to hide the smug grin that comes with being a genius. “If Jane assists me on my research project and it goes well, she can add it to her applications. And assisting a graduate student with their study on pokémon biology, as approved by the University of Wyndon… how much more competitive can you get?”

Silence hangs over the table again. Jane’s heart sinks.

Of course. Of course Sonia would be the one to come to her rescue. And even worse, it isn’t even a bad plan. It might actually work. But the idea of spending several months following along in Sonia’s shadow… being forced to stand on the sidelines while Sonia fulfilled her dreams, feeling worthless and stupid the whole time…

Walking on a bed of rusty nails sounds more appealing.

“Jane?” Magnolia’s eyes find hers, an unspoken demand lingering behind those triangular frames. “How does that sound?” There is a beat of tense, uneasy silence.

She smiles. “Sonia to the rescue,” she replies, fingernails digging into her palms.

---

The rest of the day passes in a blur, as plans take shape and the structure of the next three months comes into sharp focus. A combination of their father’s money and Magnolia’s will help support their living expenses, and the rest will be supplemented by Sonia’s research grant. They’ll leave in a week, catching a train up to Motostoke. From there, Sonia will chart her route around Galar, making observations about pokémon biology and its links to Galar’s history, and Jane will help with… whatever. It isn’t clear.

Through it all, Jane is… numb. Resigned. It is as though her body is operating on autopilot.

She finds herself again several hours later. She first feels the cold imprint of metal on her hands, then a gentle rocking of her body, back and forth. A set of swings. Specifically, the one in the old playground, where one of the three swings has hung limply from a single, broken chain for over a decade now.

The sun hangs low in the sky, casting an orange glow over the deserted playground. Ahead of her, Altair is in the middle of hopping up to the top of a nearby jungle gym, each jump placing him higher than the last. Once he reaches the top, he braces for a moment—checks to see if she is watching—before leaping off.

He makes it a few flaps, then his wing gives out.

He spirals down to the gravel, cushioning his fall with a few last-minute flaps. She keeps waiting for the moment he gives up and decides to just lay there, face-first in the dirt. But each time, he shakes himself up from the ground, preening for a moment. Then he starts the long, arduous climb back up again, undaunted.

He does just as poorly on the next go around. And the next. And the next.

“Little guy just doesn’t give up, does he?”

At the edge of the playground stands Leon Khan, though you might not recognize him at first glance. His hair is pulled up and tucked into a baseball cap, which hangs over his face and obscures most of his eyes. He wears loose-fitting workout gear, including a sleeveless shirt and a loose pair of joggers. He has a single headphone still plugged into his ear, which he pulls out as he makes eye-contact with her.

“Why do you look like you’re about to rob a corner store?” She asks, a smile reaching her lips.

“Because the Champion of Galar is really hurting for cash, don’t you know?”

“Oh yeah, the economy is in shambles. What’s the most famous man in Galar to do?”

His grin widens, as he lets out a huff of amusement. He approaches, running shoes crunching the playground gravel, and he takes a seat on the swing opposite hers. He lets out a long exhale, before taking a swig from his water bottle.

“In all honesty,” he answers, “it’s the only way I can get a workout in without people hounding me. Even then, my success rate is shaky.”

“Fair enough,” she replies, toying with the gravel around her shoe. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m pretty sure we’re the only two people who have stepped foot in this place in like, years.”

“Y’know? That actually does make me feel better.”

They sit in silence for a while, both watching Altair make another ascent to the top of the jungle gym. Wind brushes up against her back, just as he makes his next leap, and for a moment Jane thinks he is going to start soaring. But the wind passes, and he plummets to the ground all the same.

“How’d brunch with your grandmother go?” He asks, after a while.

She stays quiet, unable to pull the words out.

“That bad?”

“Yeah.”

“Did she ask about me?”

Jane snorts, before shaking her head. “Nope, pretty sure you’re still dead to her.”

“[i]Fantastic.[/i]” He drawls, eyes meeting hers. “So, how can I get you to hate me? I’m nearly three for three when it comes to the women in your family hating me.”

“Not sure if that’s possible, Lee.”

“[i]Never tell me the odds[/i], Sinclair.” They both laugh.

His signature catchphrase. It exploded in popularity around the same time he did, following a difficult win against the reigning Champion at the time. With only one pokémon remaining against his opponent’s three, he’d uttered those fateful words, broadcast live across the entire world. His Haxorus then proceeded to carve through his opponent’s entire line-up, somehow landing a perfect blow against each.

The laughter dies down, and they fall into a comfortable silence. That’s the nice thing about Leon—he doesn’t feel the need to just… fill silence with noise. She doesn’t mind when Hop does it, because there is no expectation that she needs to participate.

“So,” he says, finally breaking the silence. “I’m endorsing Hop,”

“Oh,” she replies, both surprised and somehow not. “He finally broke you, huh?”

“I guess so,” he replies, chuckling. “Plus, well… he’s almost twenty-one. I can’t keep holding him back forever, just because I’m not sure if he’s ready for it.”

“Is that why?” Jane leans in, curiosity taking hold. “Because you don’t think he’s ready?”

“Yes. No.” He pauses, chuckling. “Maybe? I guess it’s more… I’m worried that he isn’t being honest with himself about what he wants.”

“Seriously?” Jane raises an eyebrow. “Hop has been desperate to follow in your footsteps since we were like… twelve.”

“Yeah,” Leon replies. “I know.”

He looks like he wants to say more, but the words die in his throat. Instead, he settles for simply nodding his head, kicking himself back on the swing. Jane doesn’t push the topic. It isn’t really her business anyway. Personally, she finds herself a little torn. She is happy for Hop—he has wanted this for forever.

But she can’t help but feel a little bitter at how different their years were going to be. While he’ll be moving forward, she’ll be stuck in place. He is leaving her behind, just like everyone else.

“Also… I, uh,” Leon starts, breaking eye contact. “I want to offer you one as well.”

“What?”

“An endorsement. I want to give you one.”

She stops swinging. A storm of emotion surges through her, blinding and incomprehensible. She is flattered, embarrassed, and confused, all at the same time. She opens her mouth to speak, but finds no words. What is there even to say to that?

Eventually, she settles on one: “Why?”

He shrugs, meeting her eyes once more and giving her a smile. Not that cheshire grin that his entire family shares, but a real, genuine smile, almost heartbreakingly soft.

“I think you’d make a good trainer.”

“Why?”

He snorts. “Why not?” He straightens up, his words growing more passionate with each syllable. “How many people would sit on a shitty swing set all day and try to teach a bird with a broken wing to fly?”

“I haven’t actually succeeded, though,” she points out. This entire conversation doesn’t feel real, not yet. “In fact, I might be doing more harm than good. He can’t even glide yet.”

“Does that matter?”

“Probably?”

With the sun behind him, Leon’s face is cascaded in shadow. Even still, his golden eyes glow behind the shade of his baseball cap, as though they were about to catch fire. She wasn’t used to seeing him like this, not outside of… well, a battle.

“Plus, I’ve heard you talk about strategy, Jane,” he adds, a little softer this time. “I know you have the brain for it.”

“No, I don’t.” She doesn’t have the brain for anything, let alone battling.

“Yes, you do!” He grins. “I’ve seen it. I’ve heard it. It’s in there.”

Anxiety bubbles at the edges of her heart, creating cracks in the foundation. She isn’t sure why she is so insistent upon her own inadequacies—and even more than that, she isn’t sure why he won’t just let the point go. Why is he so blind to the truth?

“I’m supposed to travel around with Sonia this fall. Help her with her project.”

His face sours. “Does Sonia even need help?”

“Not really. It’s just an excuse to get me out of the house.” She can’t hide the bitterness in her voice, and guilt trickles down her spine. Sonia was just trying to help, and this is the attitude she receives in turn?

“Well, fuck that, then,” he replies, standing up out of the swing. “Trust me, Jane, you’re way better than being someone else’s lapdog for the rest of your life.”

“Grandmother would never approve,” she points out, almost half-heartedly.

This is enough to calm Leon a bit, and he sighs, sitting back down in the swing. “Yeah.”

Esther Magnolia was never much of a fan of battling. Sonia and Jane were basically banned from watching any battles while under her guardianship. In her words, it is “barbaric and pointless” and “just senseless violence and theatrics for the sake of media sensationalism”. Needless to say, Leon’s reign as Champion quickly soured whatever amiability existed between them. There is zero chance that Magnolia would ever approve of Jane taking the Challenge. Especially if it sacrifices her internship with Sonia, the one chance she had at a future. Her future.

In fact, it would probably be enough to fracture their relationship permanently.

“Look, Jane,” Leon says, now a bit calmer. “I’m not going to force the endorsement on you if you don’t want it. But I know you have it in you. I [b]know[/b] you could tackle the Challenge and come out on top of the world. And…” He pauses, looking at Altair, who is once again climbing up the metal bars of the jungle gym. “I think it would be nice to have more trainers who would spend all day teaching a bird to fly.”

For a moment, there is silence. Followed by the sound of Altair crashing into the gravel.

“So…” He shrugs, making eye contact with her again. “What do you say?”

At that moment, time seems to stop. A gust of wind brushes against her back, as though urging her to take flight. Her entire body feels warm—the embarrassment, she thinks at first. But she feels it in her heart, like gasoline pumping through her veins. Somehow, he lit a fire within her, using waterlogged kindling. Rotted long ago. Flames that beg her to say yes, beg her to burn up, if only for a single moment.

She can picture it now. Sonia’s confusion when she tells her that she is signing up for the Challenge. Her grandmother’s surprise, when she sees Jane up on the big screen. Her heart pumps at the thought of stepping into the shoes of someone like Red, or Cynthia. Or Leon. She imagines herself in his shoes, during his first championship match. So close to ruin. Somehow coming out on top. She hears the crowd cheering her name. No longer anonymous. She could finally be more than someone’s shadow.

All she has to do is say—

“No.”

The resolution in her voice surprises herself as much as it does Leon. His eyes widen, and he leans back, scratching his head. As quickly as it comes, the fire is extinguished, leaving only burning coals and memory. She gives him a small, flat smile.

“Thank you for the offer, Lee,” she adds. “But I think I need to stick with this internship thing. It could really help my future. It’s… really shitty that I won’t be able to travel with Hop for his Challenge. I’ve always pictured myself supporting him along the way, y’know? But he has to do what he needs to do, and so do I.”

For a moment, he stares at her in silence. His golden eyes bore into her soul, as though trying to rip the answers out from her through sheer willpower. But soon that kind, peaceful smile crosses his face, and he nods. He straightens up, cracking his neck.

“Okay.” She swears his cheeks are red, for a single fleeting moment. “Sorry, Jane. I feel a little stupid, getting so worked up.” He can’t even look at her now.

“It’s okay,” she replies, rubbing her nose. “I appreciate the thought. Just… yeah.”

They make idle talk for a little while longer. Hop apparently decided to specialize in normal-types, with his wooloo, Lady, as his starter. Eventually, Leon excuses himself, returning to his run. He apologises once more before he goes. Jane sits in the playground for a little while longer, letting Altair tucker himself out completely. He is no better at flying than when he started.

But as they walk back home, she can feel his contentment, radiating off of him. Pride.

That night, she stares out her window, charting the stars once more. She doesn’t have what it takes to be a pokémon trainer. She knows that, no matter what Leon thinks. But in her heart, she can feel the embers of the fire left in his wake. It smoulders within her, like the phantom pain of a lost limb. Just hot enough to remind her that they’re there.

When she falls asleep that night, she dreams of golden eyes, and a roaring crowd.

Chapter 3: creation myth

Summary:

"Anyone would kill for either of those opportunities, so maybe cool it with the woe-is-me before someone fixes to punch you for it."

A week later, Jane stands on the platform of the train station, a heavy fog wrapping the morning in gentle silence.

It’s hard to describe the emotions dancing through her gut: anticipation, dread… maybe even a little excitement. It’s actually her first time taking the train, as sad as that is; the station was constructed only four years back, and her grandmother was reluctant to let her travel on her own. Even when Jane became an adult, she just… never really worked up the nerve to leave.

This time, she doesn’t have much choice in the matter. That said, while the circumstances aren’t exactly what she might have liked, at least she is finally leaving. She wants to see what sits on the other side of those rolling hills with her own eyes.

“Of course there would be fog,” says Sonia, withholding a sigh as she checks her phone. “Hopefully it clears up by the time we pull into Motostoke, the view is worth it.”

Jane fiddles with the handle of her bag, trying to distract herself from Sonia’s stress. They have three bags with them, total: one duffle bag for each of them, filled with the barest essentials of clothing, as well as a second bag for all of Sonia’s research equipment. Like clockwork, Sonia’s eyes are on her, and she sighs.

“Look, I know it’s not exactly how you want to spend your time,” says Sonia, taking a step closer and nudging her hip. “But it won’t be so bad, y’know. We’ve had some fun together the past week, right?”

That is… subjective.

Fun with Sonia isn’t the same as fun with Hop, or fun with Leon. With Hop, fun usually means an afternoon spent playing video games or watching TV. With Sonia, it involves hiking out into the Slumbering Weald at five in the morning to observe a family of pidove waking up for the day. And writing. Lots, and lots of writing.

Still, she is right. It wasn’t all bad. Maybe Sonia was taking pity on her or something, but she tried to get Jane involved in the hands-on stuff as much as possible. Jane was actually the one responsible for catching and registering some specimens for observation. Not the same as being an actual trainer, but it was fun.

Their first specimen had been a caterpie, because Sonia had wanted to observe the quick evolutions of bug pokémon. Jane had named her Moira, despite Sonia’s protests. Apparently, Sonia hadn’t wanted to get too attached to a test subject. When they’d caught their second specimen, a magikarp that Jane had immediately named Ophion, Sonia hadn’t even bothered to protest, outside of a sigh and a roll of her eyes.

“Yeah,” Jane replies, giving Sonia the benefit of the doubt. “It’s been fun.”

It isn’t fair to pin her unhappiness upon her older sister, not when she is clearly trying so hard to make things better. It isn’t Sonia’s fault that Jane doesn’t have anything else going for her, outside of some talented family and some famous friends.

“Good,” Sonia says, a smile breaking on her face. She returns to her notes, the ones they’d made on Subject 001—AKA Moira—and leaves Jane to her thoughts.

The train pulls in, just a few minutes late, and it isn’t long before they’re off, speeding away from Wedgehurst. They find a compartment all to themselves. This isn’t much of a surprise; they’re pretty much the only people to board at Wedgehurst, and it is the first station on the line.

Sonia takes up a book and starts to read, leaving Jane to pass the time on her own. The cell service out here is spotty on the best of days, so she doesn’t even try on a foggy day like this. She settles on staring out the window, watching the world pass by.

The next stop on the line is Lakeside Station, named for the large bodies of water in the wilderness between it and Motostoke. It primarily serves as an access point for many of the rural communities who aren’t lucky enough to be from the hometown of the Champion. That said, it is also a fairly popular location for up-and-coming trainers, as the wilderness serves as a great place for beginners to catch pokémon.

The fog doesn’t clear for the entire ride between the two stations, its haze hanging heavy across the rolling fields and forests of southern Galar. It’s like she is staring at a world suspended in time, completely still. There is something beautiful about it.

Sonia is right, though. The fog doesn’t exactly make for a great view.

At some point in time, she withdraws the pokéball for Moira and places it on the table. It, along with the pokéballs for Ophion and Altair, had been tucked into a side pocket of her duffle. Most trainers keep their pokéballs clipped to a belt, but that… doesn’t feel right.

She isn’t a trainer, not really. Sonia is being nice and letting her take care of the pokémon, if only to give her something to do, but that’s not really being a trainer. In the same way, she wouldn’t call her grandmother or Sonia trainers.

“Sonia?” Jane asks, voice soft.

“What?” The response is harsh. Sonia seems to recognize this, looking up from her book with softer eyes. “What’s up?”

“Can I take Moira out for a bit?”

“You mean Subject 001?”

“Oh, c’mon,” Jane groans. Sonia snickers, and returns to her book.

“Yeah, go for it. Let me know if you notice any growth.”

In a flash of light, Moira appears from her pokéball, settling perfectly still on the compartment table. She looks like any other metapod, in Jane’s opinion, a hardened green cocoon absent of any details outside of the two large eyes. Exactly the same as last time, at least as far as Jane can tell.

“C’mon, buddy,” Jane mutters, sighing. “You can do it.”

According to Sonia, despite being from a three-stage evolution family, metapod is closer to a gradual evolution of caterpie into butterfree rather than its own independent stage. While most pokémon typically spend a significant amount of time in each stage, most metapod evolve into butterfree within a day or two.

Moira had evolved nearly four days ago.

“I don’t understand what we’re doing wrong,” Jane says. “Maybe we’re just bad at this.”

“Nothing to be done about it,” replies Sonia. Her knuckles are white against the cover of her book.

“Yeah, but maybe—”

A familiar series of rapid knocks ring out from the compartment door, causing both Jane and Sonia to start. On investigation, they are met with Hop’s impish grin behind the glass of the door, and it clicks open not moments later.

“Woah! Hey guys!” He shouts, and Jane recoils. One week without Hop had left her unaccustomed to his signature… lack of volume control. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

He drifts in, taking the seat next to Sonia. She lowers her book and gives him a nod in greeting, though accompanied by an eye roll. Sonia has always had a strange soft spot for Hop; she was maybe the only other person outside his immediate family, besides Jane, who could sit through a full conversation with him. More than that, she treats him with more patience than she’d ever shown anyone, with no snapping or digs.

Maybe that is just a sister thing. Maybe.

But the good mood doesn’t last long, not when another familiar face appears in the doorway. Leon, in his best incognito outfit, stands at the door, his arms crossed and his expression carefully neutral.

“Hey, Sonia.”

“Hello, Leon.” Sonia does not make eye contact.

Jane leans back in her seat, taking a sharp intake of breath. This sucks. Why can’t they just talk to each other? What had even happened between them in the first place? Every time they’re in the same room nowadays, any good energy dies almost immediately, and Jane is the one who has to deal with it.

Hop, predictably, either did not recognize the issue, or was actively choosing to ignore it.

“Man, I’m so excited for registration,” said Hop. “Did I tell you, Jane? I’m going with a normal-type team. I’ve pretty much spent the last week building up a team and bouncing ideas off Lee.”

“Nice,” Jane replies, honestly just grateful for a distraction. “Normal is a good call.”

“Yeah!” He grins, then cocks his head. “What are you guys doing out here?”

“Oh, um…”

His gaze then drops onto the metapod on the table, eyes growing wide.

“Woah! Jane, is this yours?”

“Uh, kinda…? It’s—”

“Did you decide to take Lee’s offer after all?”

Silence. For a solid ten seconds, no one speaks. You could hear a penny drop.

“...Offer?” Sonia’s eyes finally find Leon, cool as ice. “What offer?”

“I offered to sponsor her for the Gym Challenge,” Lee replies coolly. He meets her unspoken challenge head-on, his honeyed gaze firm and arms taut against his chest.

“Seriously?” Sonia slams her hands on the table, standing up. Jane reels back, one hand reflexively gripping Moira. “Are you fucking serious, Leon?”

“Calm down,” he warns, but it’s too late.

“Are you trying to cause problems?” Sonia snarls. Jane’s eyes are as wide as saucers. Even at her most angry, Sonia usually maintains a calm veneer. “You know exactly how that would go down with our Gran, and she’s disappointed enough with Jane as it is.”

Jane tries not to take that as an insult.

“She deserved to have all her options open,” Leon replies, his measured tone slipping a bit. “I don’t understand, why are you making this a big deal? She turned me down.”

“Because this is just so like you,” Sonia huffs, leaning back. “Filling her head with ridiculous fantasies, without sparing a thought for the consequences. And I’ll have to be the bad guy for being realistic.”

“I didn’t—” Leon’s eyes meet Jane’s, and the mask slips for a moment.

Somehow, that comment was enough to rattle him.

“Jane?” says Hop, his eyes falling on her. “Are you okay?”

At some point, Jane had stood up in her seat, arms wrapped tight around Moira. She breathes, and all that returns is a shaky, shallow breath. Once. Twice. Three times.

“I need some air,” she says, wheezing. “Please.”

She pushes past Leon, ignoring the calls of the others as she slams the compartment door closed behind her. Then she walks away, arms still wrapped tight around Moira.

She needs to be anywhere other than here.

---

Sonia was right about one thing: the view on the ride into Motostoke is gorgeous.

At some point, the fog cleared, and the crack of a sunrise now sweeps across the plains surrounding Motostoke. Despite the rapid urbanization of city centres like Wyndon over the last few centuries, southern Galar is sort of a last bastion of nearly untouched wilderness in the modern world. She did a research paper on it once, Jane thinks. Last year of high school. She got a C+ on it, with the instructor citing a lack of sources and a poorly constructed thesis.

At some point, she stumbled out onto the deck of the caboose. Tears still sting behind her eyes.

Embarrassing. She is so embarrassing.

The attacks started when she was ten, after her mom died. For a while, it was… really bad, but they have gotten better with time. She can’t even really remember the last time she got one. Graduation, maybe?

She has never been sure why it’s those moments of… chaos that always get to her. People yelling. Conflict came so easily to Sonia, like she was born to be a lawyer or a politician—but every time, it made Jane want to throw herself into the sea. Or something dramatic like that.

There is a squeak from below her. Jane looks down. At some point, she pulled Moira tight to her chest, nearly crushing the poor thing. She sighs, relaxing her arms and wiping her tears out from under her glasses.

“Sorry,” she mutters.

“Sorry for what?”

The glass door behind her slides closed, and Jane nearly leaps over the railing. With the knuckles of one hand clenched white against the railing, she whips around, her heart hammering in her chest.

A girl stands behind her, and the first thing Jane notes is how pretty she is. Which is embarrassing, but whatever. She has dark hair, long with a shaved undercut, and bright blue eyes. Her makeup is black and heavy, with smokey eye shadow and sharply winged eyeliner, blending into her warm brown skin. She wears a pink sundress with a black leather jacket, and the contrast somehow makes her more intimidating.

A morpeko sits on her shoulder, letting out a small squeak of its own as it sizes Jane up.

“Nothing,” Jane breathes, shaking her head. “Sorry.”

“You make a habit of apologizing for nothing?” The woman teases, moving to stand beside Jane. A smile quirks on her face, and she catches Jane’s eye in her periphery. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Didn’t realize the deck was occupied—usually isn’t.”

Jane shakes her head again. “I was just leaving.”

“Aw, c’mon,” the woman says, “I don’t bite.” She grins at that, showing her teeth. She then reaches into her bag, digging around for a minute, before pulling out a lighter. “Mind if I smoke?”

“No.”

“Want one?” She holds out the pack to Jane.

“No, thanks.”

The girl gives Jane a long, appraising look out of the corner of her eye. “Yeah, figures,” she says, holding back a snicker. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be outta your hair in a sec.”

“You’re fine.”

They stand there in silence, and Jane feels the stress creeping back into her arms, locking them in place. Should she leave? The girl told her she could stay, but does that make it rude if she leaves? How close were they to Motostoke, anyway? The train is slowly curving, because it crosses in front of Motostoke before pulling into the city itself, but that could mean they are at least fifteen minutes out, if not longer. How long does she need to stay in this interaction before she can make a respectful exit?

“I’m Marnie, by the way.”

“Jane. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meetcha, Jane.” Marnie turns to look at her, biting her lip. Her eyes dart down to the metapod clutched in Jane’s arm. “You joining the Challenge? We’re a bit late for it.”

Jane pauses, for just a second too long. “No, just visiting.”

“You hesitated.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“It’s not a hard question, mate,” says Marnie, eyebrow raised. “You look like something’s eating at ya.”

“It’s…” Jane sighs, pushing up her glasses and rubbing at her eyes. “It’s complicated.”

“Well…” Marnie shrugs. “We got the time for it. Hit me.”

Jane’s face twists. “Seriously, don’t worry about it. It’s just me being stupid.”

They are staring at each other now, and Marnie’s eyes take a careful appraisal of her face. Jane squirms under the attention—not leaving when she had the opportunity was a mistake. The pregnant pause lasts just long enough for Marnie to take another full drag of her cigarette, blowing it out over the railing.

“Look. If you’ve got something to get off your chest, you might as well.” To emphasize the point, Marnie taps her cig on the railing, ash drifting off into the breeze. “Tweekah and I,” she added, gesturing to the morpeko on her shoulder, “we ain’t the type to go around spreading your business. And whatever it is, it looks like it’s gonna tear you up from the inside.” She pauses. “So? C’mon then, out with it.”

Jane stares for a moment, eyes wide. Then, despite everything, she agrees.

It’s a rambling, one-sided mess of a conversation. Marnie watches with an unfocused interest as Jane dumps literally all of her problems at her feet—the poor grades, the pressure from her grandmother, Sonia’s research project, the endorsement from Leon. It would be embarrassing if it wasn’t just so cathartic to vent about the whole thing. Well, it still is embarrassing, but somehow, Jane pushes past it. She chases the relief like a high, glad to have a complete stranger to dump this on. It feels good. Fuck, does it feel good.

“…So, yeah,” Jane finishes, breathing out a sigh. The tension in her arms has melted away, and all that remains is exhaustion. “Basically, I’m being forced to do this internship, which I’ll hate, and…”

“Sorry,” Marnie says—the first thing she’s said in what must be five minutes. “I’m not following… why won’t you take the damn endorsement?”

Jane blinks, her eyes wide. “Huh?”

“I mean, first, fuck off,” Marnie adds, laughing. “Pretty much anyone would kill for either of those opportunities, so maybe cool it with the woe-is-me before someone fixes to punch you for it.”

Shame flushes across Jane’s neck, and she looks down, scrunching her nose. She asked for the outside perspective, so this is on her, but the words still stung. But before she can spiral too much, Marnie places a hand on her shoulder—a soft, kind touch, one that snaps Jane’s attention back up to the stranger’s face.

“I get it, though. Family stuff's complicated. Trust that I get it.” Marnie looks away, snuffing out her cigarette and tossing it into a nearby bin. “But hear me out… who gives a flying fuck?”

“I’m… sorry?”

“Like, yeah, people might get mad at you or whatever,” Marnie continues, rolling her eyes, and Jane can only stare in disbelief. “But you’ve gotta look out for number one, yeah? At the end of the day, we’re all gonna die, and if you live your whole life with regrets, the only one you’re truly fucking over is yourself. You all but told me that you’d have more fun doing the Challenge than anything else, so…?”

“It’s not…” Jane chokes out. “Um, it’s not… the smart decision?”

“Are you saying that, or is your Gran?” Marnie snorts. She takes a deep breath before meeting Jane’s eyes again. “Look, do what you want—I’m just some random asshole. But like… the Champ thinks you might be good at this. He doesn’t really strike me as the type of bloke not to recognize talent when he sees it. And don’t get me wrong, talent is bullshit but like… what’s the harm in trying? At least you gave it a go. That’s more than most people can say.”

Silence stretches between them again. Marnie’s cheeks, flushed from passion, slowly lose their colour, and she takes a long, shaky breath. After a moment, she reaches for the carton, lighting another.

“What if… what if I fail? What if I fuck up?” Jane croaks, still reeling. Even if Leon knew what he was talking about, Jane’s track record is… bad. The type of person Marnie is talking about… doesn’t need to retake maths three times. Doesn’t forget to turn in assignments. Doesn’t forget to write assignments.

“So? You’re basically back where you started.” Marnie shrugs. “Not to be blunt, but if you’re struggling with high school courses, I can’t imagine you’ll last long in uni, even if your sister manages to work you a miracle and get you in somewhere. And also…” Marnie taps her nails on the railing, the pink tips making a satisfying series of clacks. “Well, being blunt, your Gran doesn’t sound like the type to be satisfied with anything you do. At the very least, you can rip the bandaid off, yeah?”

Jane can only stare, eyes as wide as saucers. It’s deranged, having this stranger just… walk in, tell her to blow up her whole life without a care in the world, and do it as simply as smoking. A rational, reasonable part of Jane tells her to leave this girl behind, say thank you and goodbye, and then return to the normal world where people have some common sense.

And yet.

“You… just live like that?” A stranger’s voice speaks for Jane, light as air. A voice filled with hope. “Doing whatever you want, whenever you want?”

Marnie snorts. “Fuck no. But our situations are very different, Jane.” Her ice-blue eyes meet Jane’s, her brow furrowed. “I have a lot more people depending on me than you do.” Jane blinks in surprise, but Marnie continues, “But I always make the decisions I think are correct, and I never let anyone tell me different. Even if things don’t work out, at least I’ll know that I gave it everything I had. At least I’ll know that I stayed true to myself, even if it pissed people off.”

Jane opens her mouth, then closes it again. What else is there to say?

It is Tweekah, Marnie’s morpeko, that breaks the silence. Having scurried down and planted herself on Marnie’s boots, she raises two hands up towards her, irritation splitting her face. Grabbing a few treats from her bag, Marnie leans down and offers them to her, and she grabs them greedily, stuffing them into her face.

“Yer a menace, Tweekah,” Marnie chuckles, petting between her ears. “Don’t be rude.” She stands up, looking at Jane again. “Sorry, I guess that goes for me, too. Your business ain’t my business.”

“It’s ok,” Jane replies, surprised to find that it is the truth. “You’ve… given me a lot to think about.”

“Good.” Marnie smiles again, then her eyes drifted past Jane. “Woah. Check out the view.”

Jane follows Marnie’s gaze, and her heart skips a beat. On their left rests the beautiful city of Motostoke, cast in the warm glow of the rising sun. Covered in red brick and steam-powered machinery, it stands in sharp contrast to the wilderness of Galar, but Jane finds it nearly as beautiful. Motostoke is known for its dedication towards sustainable energy and harmony with nature, despite its industrial reputation. It’s basically the closest thing southern Galar had to a capital city, though Jane has never been.

She’d seen pictures, of course. Social media and the like. Kids from her school used to catch rides into the city on weekends—sneaking into pubs, going to cool parties, and whatever else teenagers get up to in their free time. Hop went with them once, she thinks. But going to the big city isn’t a big deal for him.

As they get close, Jane sees the crowds. Hoards of people swarmed the streets of Motostoke—she can hear the bustling even from here. It’s more voices than she’s heard… well, ever. The crowds aren’t a surprise. Challenge season starts tomorrow, kicked off by the opening ceremony, and all participants have to be there. People are speculating that this will be one of the largest Challenge seasons ever—after all, few League members were as picky with endorsements as Leon is, and everyone and anyone wants a shot at being the one to dethrone him after five long years.

Jane always liked the idea of living in a city. A city that never sleeps. To live life in the background of other people’s lives, not fearing their judgment or scorn. It would be peaceful.

And yet.

She remembers that dream she had. A roaring crowd, all calling her name. It is like a meloetta’s song, haunting in its allure. How did it feel to be someone like Leon, who drew eyes everywhere he went?

Maybe Jane doesn’t want to be invisible anymore. Could it be that simple?

“Well,” Marnie grumbles. “I should probably go get my shit. It’s gonna be a beast out there,” she adds, eyeing the same crowds. She picks Tweekah up from the ground, giving Jane a once over. “Nice to meetcha, Jane. Hope you make the right call. Hit me up if you do—we can train for it together or something.”

Jane nods, only noting Marnie’s departure when the glass door slides shut behind her. She can't stop people-watching. She sees a family taking a photo with a boy dressed in Gym clothes. He can’t be older than eighteen. She sees a middle-aged woman, also dressed in uniform, grooming a meowth and talking on her phone. Kids run through the street—the anticipation is palpable.

And a stupid, horrible thought slithers its way into Jane’s mind.

Here’s a statistic: on average, less than half of all Challengers in a season can't claim even a single gym badge. Only an average of fifteen percent make it to three. During the early weeks, the news cover highlight reels exclusively—enough to give gamblers enough data, while keeping things entertaining for fans. And her grandmother, well, she would rather die than watch a pokémon battle, let alone take part in the hype cycle of the Challenge season.

Maybe she can have it all. She wants it all.

She won’t make it to the third badge, to be clear. She isn’t delusional enough to think otherwise. But maybe, if she throws herself at it with everything she has, people will see her. Just once. She can probably even help with Sonia’s research project at the same time, or beg her to take her back afterwards. As she thinks it, she knows she sounds crazy, and impulsive, and foolish.

And yet.

No regrets, Marnie said. And the small, crackling fire in Jane’s heart agrees.

Chapter 4: a fool's paradise

Summary:

"Subject 001 is a success?"

"Yeah. She took a bit longer than most, but she got there in the end."

“That’s the dumbest plan I’ve ever heard.”

Sonia isn’t the type to mince words. Still, Jane flinches, eyes darting to the ground. She tugs at the sleeves of her letter jacket—her mom’s letter jacket. The sleeves are frayed, worn down from her picking away at them over the years. It’s comforting. It’s stupid.

She clears her throat once, then again, working up the nerve to continue. Sonia allows the silence to stretch, her face twisted in irritation. Neither of them say anything—she won’t be the first to break.

They sit on a bench at the south end of Motostoke, overlooking the wilderness they crossed not hours before. Moira the metapod sits between them, her shell now a pale green. The sun is high in the sky, covered by a sprinkling of clouds. Somehow, they carved out a space of peace and quiet in the bustling city—yet even still, Jane can hear the distant sounds of people.

Sonia has been nicer to Jane, since the incident with Leon in the train car. It’s a classic Sonia move—get mad, refuse to apologize, but try and mend things over anyway. To her credit, It usually works.

It was a disorienting experience, exiting the train to a packed station for the first and only time. After that, everything was a blur of hotels and check-ins and itineraries… an absolute whirlwind of a day, and it isn’t even noon. As they walked through Motostoke, she talked about all the things they could get up to together—movies and shopping and restaurants. And the guilt tore through Jane like a buzzsaw. So she pulled her aside, explained her plan in very simple terms… and now here they were.

“I—” Jane starts.

Sonia beats her to the punch. “I mean… seriously, Jane?” She scoffs. “You want me to lie to our grandmother so you can neglect your studies and throw your future away? For a one in a million shot?”

Jane shuffles. “It’s not… a one in a million shot.”

“For you? It is.” Sonia grimaces—she went too far—but she continues. “Jane, look…” She sighs, placing a hand to her forehead. “Do you remember when you got that bass guitar?”

Jane inhales sharply. “That was totally different. I was fifteen.”

“How long did that phase last?” Sonia’s words land like sharpened needles. “Because I remember you and Hop talking about it for months, how you were going to start a rock band. Then Dad finally caves, helps you buy it, and within weeks, it’s collecting dust in the garage. It’s still there, I think.”

“I… That was different.”

Was it? With hindsight, it’s easy to say that Hop was more excited about the band than she was. She was swept up in his enthusiasm all the same. Then the euphoria faded, and all that was left was a long, hard climb to mastery, where each missed note was a reminder of how much she sucked. Where each practice session echoed her failures through the whole house. So when Hop moved on to some other fixation, Jane just… let it all fall to the wayside. The path of least resistance.

“I love you, Janie. So much.” Sonia is sitting up straight now, eyes locked in her direction. Her tone is gentle, disarming. But then she goes in for the killing blow. “But the Challenge is brutal, you have no battling experience, and you’re basically setting yourself up to either burn out or break down. Not to mention the opportunities you’re giving up…. plus asking me to lie to Grandma.”

Normally, this is where Jane folds… and to Sonia’s credit, she almost does. But that fire in her gut keeps flickering, gnawing away at her like a hunger. This is different than the guitar—than any other failed hobbies. It has to be. Hands shaking, Jane stands, then turns around. Her eyes slam closed and her fists clench, as though that will somehow help her keep her nerve. It almost works.

“I want this, Sonia. More than anything.”

“I know you do, but—”

“Let me finish.” Jane takes a steadying breath, opening her eyes. “I know it sounds stupid. I can’t fully explain it. But if I don’t do this, it’s like I’m… betraying some fundamental part of myself. One I’ve never been able to name before. I know it’s a long shot—I’ll probably crash and burn. But that’s my choice.”

Sonia stares at her, expression inscrutable. Then a crack rings out, pulling both their attention downwards.

Moments later, their metapod splits right down the middle. A tiny blue hand emerges not long after, clawing at the shell and tearing open a bigger hole for itself. Then the antennas, the purple head… and finally, a pair of beautiful white wings.

A butterfree sits in front of them. She lets out a series of soft trills, looking at the two of them with her bulbous red eyes. She flaps her wings once, then twice, then takes off into the sky, fluttering in a circle around the two of them. Jane watches, eyes wide and heart soaring.

“Huh,” says Sonia, biting her cheek. “How about that?”

Jane sits back down, shuffling the metapod shell to the side, and they watch Moira takes her first flight. At first, she flies as high as she can. Then she dives, dropping like a stone. But she catches a gust of wind, evening out and cresting along a nearby hedge. It comes to her as naturally as breathing, Jane thinks. Moira was functionally paralyzed not moments before. Now she takes to the sky like she owns it.

Sonia is equally drawn to the butterfree, eyes following her with rapt attention. The tension in her shoulders fades, and she runs a hand through her ginger hair, before taking a slow breath.

“Subject 001 is a success?” Jane asks, voice barely a whisper.

“Yeah. She took a bit longer than most, but she got there in the end.”

After that, they fall silent. Jane closes her eyes, listening to Moira’s soft trills and feeling the breeze in her hair. It’s incredible. She’s never seen anything like that before. She wonders what it’s like, to fly for the first time. To claim the sky as your own. Poor Altair is still clinging to the fantasy of taking flight, despite the bent wing.

Now she understands why. If it was her, she couldn’t give it up, either.

Beside her, Sonia takes a deep breath through her nose. “…I have a few ground rules.”

Jane’s eyes snap open.

“First,” Sonia says, sitting up and crossing her arms. Jane fully turns to her, pulling her knee up the bench. “If Grandmother finds out, I am staying out of it. That’s your hill to die on.”

She can’t blame Sonia for that. That would be a hellish conversation for everyone involved.

“Second, if you’re hoping to join back up with my project when you bomb,” Sonia continues, “I’m gonna need some work out of you in the meantime. A detailed report of every pokémon you raise, with particular attention paid to their evolutions. Properly formatted, on a timely schedule.”

“Fine,” Jane agrees, before she can think too hard about it. “But I get to keep Moira.”

“Subject 001—”

“And Ophion.”

“Ugh.” Sonia brings her hand to her temple. “Fine. That’s… two birds with one stone I guess.”

Heart pounding, Jane closes the gap between them, hugging tight to her sister. Tears well up in her eyes, but she blinks them away. Sonia flinches at the touch, just for a moment. But then she returns the hug, tucking her chin onto Jane’s shoulder. Jane sniffles, then clings even tighter.

“I’ll make you proud,” she croaks.

“I hope so,” Sonia replies. A beat passes. “Oh, and thirdly: I’m never to hear from Leon about this. Ever.”

With a throaty chuckle, Jane pulls away, wiping the tears from under her glasses.

“No promises.”

---

There’s a joke about architecture in Wedgehurst: what architecture? That’s what you get, she supposes, when a bunch of farmers throw a bunch of barns together and a town pops up around it. But that was never an issue for Jane—anything bigger than a barn seemed just excessive to her.

Once a country bumpkin, always a country bumpkin.

But now, walking through Motostoke, she feels like a complete hick. With each corner turned, she comes face-to-face with a new architectural wonder, unlike any she’s seen before. Steam-powered elevators, waterwheels, and buildings bigger than any she’s seen before. There aren’t many skyscrapers—not like you’d see in Wyndon—but all of the buildings are just… big. It’s intimidating and awe-inspiring at the same time.

Motostoke Stadium is the biggest of them all, bigger than anything in sight. Standing several stories tall and constructed from beautiful red brick, it’s one of the largest stadiums in Galar, dwarfed only by Wyndon’s and Hammerlocke’s. Probably why it’s almost always selected to be the location of the Opening Ceremony.

Well. There is one thing bigger than the stadium—the line leading to its front doors.

“…We should have registered early,” Jane mutters, taking a place at the back of the line.

Hop slides beside her, resting an arm on her shoulder. “You decided to sign up this morning, Janie.” He flashes a dumb grin, like he needs her to know that he’s just teasing. She knows—she’s not that dense.

“Yeah, well,” Jane sniffs. “What’s your excuse?”

“Poor time management.”

After talking with Sonia, she split off to go find Hop and Leon and tell them the good news. Leon apparently needed to do some Champion stuff, but Hop was… over the moon about the whole thing. To a slightly off-putting degree. There was a lot of hugging and a lot of shaking, and him insisting that she was going to do great. Deeply embarrassing, but she did appreciate the unearned confidence. After some congratulations, he pulled Leon into a phone call to tell him. Leon offered her a simple congrats, his smile audible through the phone, then offered to deliver the endorsement to her while they waited in line.

How he plans to accomplish that without getting swarmed, she isn’t sure.

A sharp talon jabs into Jane’s shoulder, pulling her from her thoughts.

“Ow, Altair!” she hissed. “Watch the claws!”

The rookidee, perched on her shoulder, offers her only a look of bemusement, before gingerly withdrawing the stray talon. With Moira taking a post-evolution rest in her pokéball, Jane figured it was a good time to give Altair a chance to stretch out his wings. He’s crabbier than usual, though.

Maybe he isn’t a fan of crowds. She hides a smile at the thought.

“So, our little Janie, a pokémon trainer,” says a voice from her other side. She jumps, before shifting closer to Hop. “I’m surprised Sonia didn’t straight-up kill you when you told her,” he adds with a chuckle.

At first glance, she thinks he’s a stranger. Which is really annoying, because it’s just Leon in a stupid disguise. His hair is pulled up into a baseball cap, and he’s wearing his workout gear again, a sleeveless shirt and joggers—though he’s at least decent enough to cover up his arms with a jacket this time around. Worst of all, he’s got this dumb pair of glasses on, which do somehow make him look completely different.

“Wow,” says Hop, snickering. “I can’t believe that actually works.”

“You’d be surprised at how far glasses and a slouch can get you,” Lee responds, grinning back.

“I can’t believe you actually came,” Jane adds, putting a hand to her temple. “You’re going to get us mobbed.” There is way too many people around them for this secret identity nonsense. All it would take is one person shouting for Champion Leon to sign their chest, and then the entire street becomes a bloodbath.

“Hey now,” he replies, resting a hand on her shoulder. “I had to wish my girl luck on her big day.”

He offers her a smile, brighter than the sun, then extends a pair of letters out to her. She blinks, stunned. His words burst with sincerity, like he thinks she’s actually going to make it all the way. Is it better or worse if he’s sincere? Arceus, disappointing him is going to suck. Numbly, she takes the letters from him.

“Thanks,” she replies.

“What about me?” Hop asks, blinking demurely. “Do I get a good luck wish?”

“…Obviously,” Leon replies, reaching over to flick Hop on the forehead. “You’re both going to do great.”

Face unfortunately flushed, Jane makes a show of checking the envelopes. One is formally addressed to Jane Sinclair, from Champion Leon AKA Victory Star, in the League’s standard issue typeface. The second has only her name, scribbled in Leon’s messy scrawl, and is crumpled a bit around the edges.

Leon catches her scrutiny, foot tapping on the road. “You, um,” he sniffs, looking away. He brings a hand up to his chin, scratching at stubble. “You should read that one… later. When you need some motivation.”

She blinks. “I don’t get it.”

“Just…” he clicks his tongue, then shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Seriously, mate,” Hop hisses after a moment, looking around them. “Great to see ya, don’t want to interrupt the cute moment or whatever, but you gotta leave.”

“Alright, alright…” says Leon, before giving them a wink. “I’m out. Catch you guys later.”

With that, the reigning Champ disappears into the crowd. Jane and Hop sigh in unison. Leon is one of the most clever people she knows… but it’s reassuring to know that smart people can be really dumb sometimes, too. But she supposes that adds to his charm, somehow.

“…Does he know where your hotel is?” Jane asks.

“Nope,” Hop replies flatly. “He’s doomed.”

“Figures.” Jane lifts up the letters. “Do you know what the deal is with this?”

Hop stares, for just a moment too long, then shakes his head. “No clue.”

She runs a finger along her name, her thumb smudging the graphite slightly. She isn’t sure what to make of that. She and Leon aren’t exactly as close as they used to be. He’s one of the few people she doesn’t feel awkward around, but they’ve both changed a lot over the years. Since when is Leon the type to keep secrets and dodge questions? Maybe she doesn’t know him as well as she thinks she does.

Or it was just a nice gesture, and she’s super overthinking it. Resolved, she shoves the second letter into her bag, while adding the endorsement to the list of files tucked away under her arms.

“Anyway, Jane,” Hop says, launching into another dump of information. “For dinner tonight, one of my mates was telling me about this new ramen bar that opened up, and it’s in quiet part of town, so…”

Hop continues like that for a while, and Jane does her best to listen. Truthfully, she is perfectly fine to just let him pick where they eat, but talking things out like this usually helps him make a decision. So she’s learned to just nod along and let him ramble his way to a conclusion.

“Excuse me. Were you two with Champion Leon just now?”

Hop freezes in the middle of speaking, and both he and Jane turn around. A young man stands behind them in line, his arms crossed as his eyes bounce between the two of them. He has blonde, curly hair, with blue eyes and pale skin. And he’s wearing a bright pink overcoat, which somehow works for him. His mouth curves into a frown, but there’s no bite behind it—it’s like his face is just stuck that way.

Hop speaks first. “No! That was a… different… Leon?” His voice quivers, giving up the lie before he says it.

Jane blinks, then she looks to Hop, her nose scrunching to keep herself from exhaling too loud. She flicks her eyes back to the newcomer, who watches them with an amused sneer. He doesn’t seem to have many pleasant expressions. The three of them catch curious eyes from onlookers, all burning into Jane’s neck.

“We can get you an autograph if you want,” Jane whispers. The line lurches forward, and she takes a long step back. “But this might not be the time or place.” Please, please, please get the hint.

The stranger waves a dismissive hand, taking his own step to close the gap. “Not interested—I will be meeting him on my own soon enough.” Before Jane can even process the audacity, he continues, “I am more curious as to who my competition is.” His eyes fall on Hop. “Brother…” Then to Jane. “Friend?”

She nods, eyes wide. “Close enough.”

He nods, taking another step towards her. He extends a gloved hand. “I am Bede Hughes. A pleasure.”

She isn’t sure that it is. She shakes his hand regardless. “Jane. Sinclair.” Her voice still comes out too soft.

“Hop,” her friend says, shaking Bede’s hand in turn. “Wait, Hughes? Like, Opal Hughes?”

Bede nods, face turning solemn. “Yes. It seems we both come from greatness in our own ways.”

Idly, Jane wonders if that really matters. For the most part, pokémon battling is about memory recall and quick decision-making. And tactics—lots of tactics. Can genetics really account for something like that? Then again… consistent access to knowledge and resources on battling is probably a huge contributing factor.

That thought is bitter on her tongue.

“I guess,” Hop replies, giving a delighted grin and rubbing his head. No complicated feelings there.

The three of them are silent for a moment. Bede shifts his attention back and forth between them, and she can see the gears turning behind his eyes. The line lurches forward, and they all step with it. Altair jams his talon into her shoulder again. Jane whimpers, though he removes it almost immediately.

“So,” Bede starts again. “What are your specialties?” He nods to Jane, then to the rookidee on her shoulder. “I assume the flying-type for you. Though steel-type is arguably the stronger choice.”

Oh. Yeah. She hasn’t really thought that far.

“Normal-type for me!” Hop replies. “Me and Lady, my wooloo, have been best buds since forever, and I’ve already caught a pidove and a minccino.” Grinning, he stretches his arm. “Plus, I figure that when I become the champion, it’ll be easier to transition to a universal team.”

Just like Lee, Jane finishes the thought.

“Interesting strategy,” Bede replies, voice flat. “Personally, I would not decide my strategy based on a fantasy at best and a delusion at worst,” he adds, a sneer barely concealed on his face, “but do what you will. I suppose that normal types are, at the bare minimum, a good strategic decision for facing the Gyms.”

Everyone in the League has a type specialty, including Challengers, with the sole exception of those with Champion status. After choosing a specialty at registration, every pokémon used by a Gym Challenger must be a pokémon of their specialty type. Gym Leaders are allowed a bit more flexibility, but even that is limited to a single wild card pokémon. Planning around your type is half the fun of it all.

There are entire message boards for discussing the optimal type choice, and the optimal gym path for each type. It changes each year, of course, depending on if any gyms were rotated out of the circuit. Nerds on the internet have turned the entire Challenge into a science, game theory and all. If Jane hadn’t made a random, impulsive decision—which she regrets more and more with each second—she might’ve considered her options carefully. But here she is, up against yet another deadline, and there’s no other choice.

“Mine will be flying-type,” she confirms, voice scratching.

Bede fixes his gaze on her. “Oh? Any reasoning there?”

“I like them.” Surprisingly, it’s the truth.

“Fair enough,” Bede replies, his sneer slipping away as he brings a hand to his chin. Jane blinks twice. “I’m training fairy types for a similar reason—though there is certainly a strategic advantage in doing so.”

“Right,” Jane replies. She truly cannot get a beat on this weirdo.

Bede squints, leaning forward. “You might want to catch another rookidee, though,” he adds. His eyes are on Altair now, who rises defiantly to meet his stare. “That bent wing is basically a nonstarter.”

Jane bristles on instinct. Defensiveness warms in her heart, and she almost tells him to fuck off, right then and there. But she doesn’t. The air leaves her chest, not with a bang and barely even a whimper.

“Thanks for the advice.” He was just trying to help. He doesn’t get it. She doesn’t want to do this if it’s not with Altair, or with Moira… but there’s no way to explain that without sounding childish and stupid.

Bede nods, and they all fall silent again. Two more shuffles of the line pass by with no one saying a word. Soon enough, they stand at the front doors to Motostoke Stadium, and the silence rings heavy in her ears.

It is Hop who makes the first move, placing an elbow on Jane’s shoulder. “Well, it was nice to meet ya, Beet,” he says, giving the young man a mocking salute. “See ya later, mate.” Then he turns Jane around, with just his elbow, and pushes Jane forward to join the rest of the line inside the stadium.

Bede says nothing, only watching the two of them go with that same frown on his face.

“What a little weirdo,” Hop says, once they’re out of earshot. He steals a glance back at Bede, before rolling his eyes. “Forgot how much this season brings out the most optimizing pieces of shit you’ve ever met.”

“Yeah,” Jane says, but her mind is already elsewhere.

The line inside the stadium is a bit more controlled, with several booths lined up to help people register. Everything looks so official. Each booth has both a registrar and a pokémon examiner, to confirm that any pokémon you want to register as part of your official Challenge team do not exceed the maximum threshold of expected strength for the start of the season. And then once all of that is done, there’s no going back.

“Hop,” Jane croaks. Her legs are shaking—how long have they been shaking? She gasps for breath.

“Hey, hey,” Hop coos, grabbing her hand. He holds it tight, and it helps, just a little. “It’s alright.”

“This is—a really—bad idea, Hop,” she chokes.

Oh, Arceus, she’s so completely fucked. Why did she ever think this was a good idea? Everyone is expecting something from her and now she’s taken on even more of it, and it’s just going to end in disaster, and if she had a bit more time, maybe she could’ve done more planning. Somehow, she procrastinated this shit. Again. If her heart wasn’t threatening to leap from her throat with each pound, she might’ve laughed.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck—

“Jane.”

His voice is quiet and calm. Which doesn’t seem possible for Hop, but still, Jane’s eyes snap to him. His face is serious until he meets her eyes, then he offers her a warm smile. Her eyes slam shut. He squeezes her hand, and she tries to squeeze back, only to realize that she already has him trapped in a vice grip.

“One step at a time, Jane,” he says, pulling her to stand up straight. “This is the easy part. Once we’re done, we’ll order dinner or something with Lee, then go back to the hotel and watch trash TV.” At this, Jane chokes out a laugh and nods slowly, which pushes Hop to continue, “and tomorrow’s a new day. But for now… could you try that five senses stuff for me? With long, steady breaths. I’ll do it too.”

Nodding, she takes a sharp inhale, followed by a smooth exhale. Eyes open.

She sees a group of teen girls taking a selfie, an oddish riding on its trainer’s head, a portrait of the nine successful 2013 Gym Challengers on the wall, a man dressed like a pokéball, and a couple wearing a pair of shirts that both say, “I’M WITH STUPID.” She feels Hop’s sweaty palm plastered against hers, the cool air from the air conditioning in the lobby, a pebble that got jammed into her sneaker, and skin on her nose flaking away from last week’s sunburn.

Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.

She hears the registrar’s keyboards clacking away, two children arguing with their parents over which of them gets to be Champion Leon in their mock battle, and the clack of someone’s heels as the line shuffles forward. She smells the sweat of a hot summer’s day on the crowd, and the cool pine-scented air blowing of the lobby. And she tastes blood on her tongue, from where she bit down on her cheek moments before.

Inhale. Exhale. She imagines the taste of oranges instead. Inhale. Exhale.

With a sniff, she straightens up, rubbing the trace of tears from her eyes. Her legs still feel close to giving out, but her heart beats slowly. Gently, she digs one set of fingernails out of her own palm, and the other set out of the back of Hop’s hand. Hop kept them moving with the line, so mercifully, that whole mess didn’t draw too much attention. If it had, she probably would just die on the spot.

“Thanks,” she mutters.

“Yeah. You okay?”

“I’m okay.” She blinks at him. “I never realize how good you’ve gotten at that.”

“Yeah, well,” he says, serious again. “You haven’t had one that bad in a long time. Sure you’re good?”

“Yeah,” she says. She looks down to Altair, who jumped down to the floor during… all of that. He stares up at her, a defiant look still in his eyes. He flaps his bad wing, like he knows what Bede said about him. Then he hops on her shoe, and settles in for a ride. She gives Hop a smile, which comes out as more of a grimace.

She is doing this. She still wants to do this. “After all, tomorrow’s a new day, right?”

---

Unfortunately, Hop was wrong. By the next morning comes, anxiety still churns its way through Jane’s nerves, even taking it one step at a time. The only difference: at this point, there is no backing out.

It is quarter to eight on the 15th of September, and Jane Sinclair is officially a Gym Challenger.

An updated statistic: according to initial reports, there are five hundred and eighty-eight Challengers registered for the eighty-third season of the Annual Galar Gym Challenge. Trends indicate that, by the first badge deadline in two weeks, that number will drop to just under three hundred. And in four weeks, by the third badge deadline, there will likely be about eighty-eight left. Numbers will only dwindle from there. And in eleven weeks, somewhere between four and seven of them will be official League Members.

So. The odds aren’t great for little old Jane.

It is ten to eight, and Jane is lined up on the pitch of Motostoke Stadium with five hundred and eighty-seven other Challengers. She wonders if she could leave without making a scene. Definitely not, for what it’s worth. She’s in the dead centre of the crowd—there are a lot of bodies to push past to reach the exit. Besides, there are already livestream cameras flying on little drones above them, ready to capture the Opening Ceremony in all of its glory. She’d rather not be made into a national spectacle.

It occurs to her that technically, her grandmother could have already seen her. She definitely hasn’t, but it’s a possibility now, and that thought alone is nearly enough to make her crumple. What a dumb plan.

At the very least, last night was fun, just like Hop promised. Registration didn’t take too long—both Altair and Moira were accepted without incident, though the examiner did ask some follow-up questions about Altair, how Jane found him, and his potential risk factors. Ultimately, he was cleared to compete, but not without the examiner giving Jane some tips to ensure consistent care through a long season of battling.

Her faith was appreciated, if a bit misplaced.

After that, they returned to the hotel, then ordered some Kantonese food with Sonia and watched My Horde of Eligible Bachelors for a few hours. As per usual, Jane flip-flopped between which guy she wanted to end up with the bachelorette after every heart-to-heart, while Sonia criticized each guy for their awful fashion and obvious personality flaws. And of course, Hop’s heart broke when the guy he liked didn’t get a seashell at the Tide Pool Ceremony. He picked a new favourite within minutes of the next episode.

Leon returned late that evening, and Sonia left to go back to her and Jane’s room without a word. He tried to ask Jane and Hop how their registrations went, but within minutes, he fell asleep in the hotel room chair, his baseball cap tipped over his face, fork dangling in his hand. It was, overall, a very nice evening.

It is five to eight, and Jane finally finds something that feels close to resolve.

When she and Hop completed their registration, the registrar was surprised to see endorsements from Champion Leon. The first in three years, he told them. Leon joined the League five years ago. The registrar was a bit less surprised when he’d gotten Hop’s last name, but when he entered Jane’s information, he gave her a small, bemused smile. Like he was wondering what Leon saw in her. Truthfully, she still doesn’t know.

But he believes in her, there’s no doubting that. She isn’t sure where that comes from. All of them do, actually: Leon, Hop… Marnie—whose belief was more of a “fuck it” than anything else, but Jane counts it. Even Sonia believes in her. Probably. She wouldn’t have agreed to the plan otherwise. Four. Four people believe in her. That has to be enough. Because one way or another, there is no going back.

No point in fearing the fall—she’s already taken the leap. Might as well enjoy the view on the way down.

It is eight o’clock. Cameras roll, the band begins to play, and the Annual Galar Gym Challenge begins.

Chapter 5: the winds of change

Summary:

"Don't get in your head about it, yeah? We're gonna have a nice, clean match—and win or lose, you've got plenty of time."

“Do it now!” Sonia hisses, her voice echoing through the cavern. “Throw the damn ball!”

Jane’s brow twitches. A retort slithers onto the tip of her tongue, but she keeps quiet. This is hard enough without getting into a full blown argument. Instead, she pulls a pokéball, and she watches. She waits.

A woobat floats just a few feet away, watching her just as intently. Its single eye narrows on Jane, then down to Altair on the ground. The rookidee stands ready, his wings tucked into a battle stance.

“Altair,” she says, after a moment. “Try Air Cutter again.”

He leaps into action, jumping off the ground and into the air. With one wing, then another, he sends out blasts of sharpened air, forceful enough to bounce off the walls of the cavern and rustle Jane’s hair. The woobat shifts out of the way of the first strike, but is grazed by the second. It lets out a small squeak, then drops a few feet lower, its flight path woozy and uncertain.

She throws the pokéball.

The woobat disappears, and that signature click of a successful capture comes moments later.

Respect adequately earned, evidently. She breathes out, before retrieving the pokéball.

“That felt unnecessary,” Sonia says, coming to join her.

“Trust me,” Jane replies wearily. “There’s, um, a rhythm to these things.”

Sonia rolls her eyes. “Can we leave this mine then? Gonna lose my mind otherwise.”

Jane nods. Altair hops up onto her shoulder, and the three of them make their way towards the exit.

The past week and a half has been a complete blur to Jane—but that came as no surprise. The start of the Gym Challenge is notorious for being hectic, disorienting, and stressful. This year was no different.

The Challenge takes place in nine phases, stretched across eleven weeks. The first phase, colloquially called the “Pinch Period”, takes place over the last two weeks of September, and it features a bunch of new trainers, all running around in a panic, trying to build a team and get strong enough to take on a Gym. The extra week is a mercy. It gives enough time to get acclimatized before the real Challenge begins. But mercy or not, if a Challenger hasn’t successfully claimed a gym badge by the end of the first phase when those two weeks are up, they’re eliminated from the Challenge. No fanfare, no exceptions.

Now having lived it, Jane thinks that calling it a “pinch” is a fucking understatement.

The first week wasn’t so bad. Initially, she and Sonia lingered near Motostoke, with Jane focusing on training fundamentals with Altair and Moira. They watched a lot of YouTube videos. Hop stayed with them for the first day, but moved on towards Turffield, wanting to catch more pokémon before the first gym. Since the first gym was in a 2v2 format, that seemed overzealous to Jane, but she wasn’t here to micromanage him.

Speaking of micromanaging: initially, Sonia offered to help Jane and her team train, but the mood quickly devolved when she tried. She couldn’t stop herself from, for lack of a better word, backseat training. Jane doesn’t consider herself an argumentative person, but there was only so much snipping she could take.

“You need to accommodate for Altair’s wing, Jane,” Sonia once chided. The two of them stood in a meadow to the south of Motostoke. Nominally, Sonia was there to hang out and finish some note-taking, but Jane had felt anxious eyes on her since they moment they started. “He won’t be able to use moves like—”

“Yes, I know,” Jane replied through gritted teeth. “That’s why we’re focusing on ground combat.”

Sonia sniffed at that. “Well, you’ve been trying to teach him Aerial Ace for the last hour, so…”

“Fucking hell, Sonia,” Jane snapped, a rare edge to her voice. “I know what I’m doing.” Marching over to her bag, she ripped out a book, shoving it in her sister’s direction. “See? I checked out a fucking library book for this. Now, can you please just let me figure this shit out without fucking nagging me?”

Sonia stared at her for a long moment then, frozen in shock. It’d been a while since Jane had actually pushed back at someone like that, and the guilt that washed over her was enough to douse any lingering frustration. But moments later, Sonia shook her head, muttering something under her breath and returning back to her notes without another word. She loves to do that—argue in circles with herself.

Still, after that, they decided that it was probably best if Sonia didn’t sit in on training sessions, for the sake of their relationship. But she fell into a weird mood after that, quiet and contemplative. Every time Jane returned back for the night, she felt Sonia’s gaze on her, her expression contemplative. Sullen. Remorseful. It seemed an overreaction to an argument, but Sonia’s moods change as easy as the wind does.

Now, as they step out from one of Galar’s mines into a field of golden grass, Sonia stares at her again. Again, Jane clocks the concern that lingers in her eyes, hidden behind the pink tint of her sunglasses. She looks away, her eyes drifting up to admire the cloudless blue sky. A gentle breeze rustles at her back.

“Sonia,” Jane says, her voice quiet. “I’m supposed to be the anxious one here.”

“I’m fine,” Sonia snaps, though her heart isn’t in it.

“Right, seriously?” Jane turns back to her, brows furrowed. “What’s going on?”

Sonia sniffs, crossing her arms. “Look, I’m just…” She sighs. “You sure you don’t want to take one more day? We haven’t even settled into town yet.”

“Sonia,” Jane replies, almost admonishing. The tone surprises her. “Look, if I’m going to do this, I can’t wait until the very last second. If I lose the first time, I’m not going to be able to re-challenge till the next day.” Jane offers a shaky smile. “Besides, you’re the one always hounding me about procrastinating?”

Sonia does not smile back. “You aren’t nervous? Not at all?”

“Of course I am!” Jane hisses. She picks at a nail, looking down. “This is… terrifying.” In fact, if she thinks about it too long, her heart starts hammering against her ribs on instinct alone. “But Moira and I have… a plan. It’s a grass-type gym. Easy match-up. And for the first match, I don’t even have to fight a Gym Leader.”

Sonia rubs the bridge of her nose. “I just don’t want you to get your hopes up.”

“Gee,” Jane replies, snarkier than she would’ve liked. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Sonia stares at her again, her brows knitting together, lips pressed into a thin line. “Not how I meant it.”

Jane blinks, her eyes wide. They’ve spent a lot of time together over the past few weeks—more than they have in years—and for the first time in a while, Jane can’t quite read her sister’s expression. It’s haunting, with sadness and pain twisted up in a way that Jane doesn’t understand. She blinks again, and then it’s gone, replaced with a look of tired exhaustion. One Jane is quite used to seeing directed at her.

“Well,” Sonia says with a sniff, gesturing down the footpath towards Turffield. “Off we go, then.”

The two of them start off, silence hanging over them. Given Sonia’s poor mood, Jane isn’t looking to start the conversation back up. But despite that, Jane finds herself admiring the beautiful view on their way. The afternoon sun shines down upon rows of fields of golden grass, and a pleasant aroma hangs in the air. Just over the next hill, she can see the edge of Turffield, with its brown barns and its fields full of wooloo.

It reminds her of home.

Only when they cross the hill, and Turffield Stadium comes into view, does Jane feel the tension in her wrist. See the whiteness of her knuckles, clutching tight around Moira’s pokéball. She tries not to think about Sonia’s words, but they linger, sinking down like a stone until they sit perfectly in the bottom of her stomach.

It’s fine, she decides. More confident than she feels. She and Moira have a plan.

---

They make a quick stop by their new hotel. Jane changes into her Challenge uniform, while Sonia types up a report on the woobat. Jane calls him Seren. He won’t be fighting today, since it’s a two-mon match. Not that she’d just throw him into the deep end otherwise—she hasn’t had time to build a rapport with him yet. Then again, she isn’t really sure how to go about doing that. With Altair and Moira, it kinda just… happened.

Oh well. That’s a problem for later. One step at a time, like Hop said.

She wonders how Hop is doing. They’ve been texting, obviously, but it’s not really the same as hanging out. She knows he caught a zigzagoon, who he calls Ziggy, because he hasn’t stopped spamming with her with pictures since he caught it. Well, it’s more accurate to say that she’s been demanding them, but still. But Jane can’t afford to get distracted thinking about Hop right now. Not today.

The match is at five-thirty that evening, one of the last matches of the day. Jane leaves early, and Sonia promises to head over closer to the match time, once she finishes her notes. Leaving early is a habit Jane picked up somewhere over the years, born from both anxiety and foresight. If she doesn’t give herself at least an extra twenty minutes, inevitably she will end up being late. Today, she gives herself forty minutes.

Yeah. The nerves are definitely getting to her now.

As she walks through the streets of Turffield, she stares down at her phone, checking the scores online. Two hundred and thirty-eight challengers have successfully claimed their first Gym Badge. Seventeen have successfully claimed two. But it isn’t a race, she thinks, her hands shaking. It’s a marathon, not a sprint.

Leon said that to her once. Well, more accurately, he said it to Hop, while she was also there. Arceus, she wishes she could talk to Leon right now. Sonia’s doom and gloom is starting to get to her.

She checks the scores again. Two hundred and forty-three.

Not a race. Not a race. Not a—

“Jane, hey!”

She freezes, looking up from her phone. She stands a good twenty feet away from the Stadium, its polished white exterior a sharp contrast to the weather-worn buildings surrounding it. A small crowd of challengers hovers in front of the entrance, having either just finished their battles or preparing for one. And in front of them all stands Hop, dressed in a Challenge uniform of his own. He stands next to a large, muscular man in what she assumes is a Turffield Gym uniform, given the green shorts.

Grinning, Hop waves her over, and Jane moves to join them.

“Jane, you just missed it!” says Hop, stretching out an arm. “I didn’t realize you guys were in town already, or I would have invited you to watch. You are looking at the proud owner of…” He reaches into his pocket, before pulling out a small, wheat-shaped emblem. “A gym badge! My first gym badge!”

“Congratulations,” Jane says, her voice quivering. Two hundred and forty-four.

“It was a wicked battle, yeah?” Hop continues, his words jumbling together as he rambled. “Milo obviously banged us up a bit. Poor Lady took a proper beating, but she held strong for a minute. And Storm—my tranquill—she was able to carry us through. I’ll tell ya, it was touch and go for a minute, there, but…”

“I’m Milo, by the way,” the large man said, extending a hand. “I’m a Gym Trainer here.”

Milo is even larger from up close, but his round face and ruddy complexion makes him approachable and not intimidating. As she takes his hand, Jane is surprised by how soft his handshake is. He gives her a gentle squeeze and a big smile, before letting her hand drop and setting his hands down on his hips.

“Jane,” she replies. She tries to smile. Ignores her shaking elbow. Act normal, Jane, act normal.

“She’s my mate,” Hop adds, shoving her shoulder. “Here to crush it, I’m sure.”

“Huh,” Milo says, eyebrows raised. “Jane Sinclair?”

“…Yes?”

“Well, ain’t that a hoot,” he says, grinning. “I think you’re my five-thirty match.”

“Oh.” What a coincidence. And some added pressure, just to spice things up. “Brilliant.”

It’s not completely unreasonable. In order to better manage numbers during the Pinch Period, each gym employs three to five volunteers, allowing them to host more time slots and give more opportunities to earn a gym badge. The volunteers are League members—typically those who successfully completed the Challenge and then moved on to a different career. Not everyone wants to be a full time trainer. Still, they came back around, once a year, to ensure the continued success of Galar’s national pastime.

It’s an admirable, stressful position… though she imagines that the stipend must also be substantial.

According to people on the internet, the smart play is to go to Raihan’s Gym in Hammerlocke during the first phase, to avoid having to fight him later on. Because he’s a menace. Jane considered the same plan, but time slots in Hammerlocke are competitive, and she was willing to kick that can far down the road.

After all, like Sonia said: a one-in-a-million shot. The chance of her facing Raihan was slim-to-none.

“You alright, mate?” Milo asks, snapping her to attention. “You’re looking a bit pale”

“No, yeah,” she replies. “I’m just… nervous, I guess. Sorry.”

“Ah, yeah.” He gives a warm smile, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t get in your head about it, yeah? We’re gonna have a nice, clean match—and win or lose, you’ve got plenty of time.” He checks his watch. “Speaking of which, I’ve gotta get back in there. Got one more match before we face off.”

“Right.” She nods. She takes a long, shaky breath, allowing her body to relax for a moment.

“Good match, Hop,” Milo adds, looking over. “But don’t go and forget my yammering, yeah?”

“Proactive, not reactive,” Hop replies, mocking a salute. “It’s locked in there, mate.”

“Brilliant. Catch you guys later.” With that, Milo heads back into the Stadium.

Jane looks to Hop, who locks onto her with a killer grin. His hair is a little ruffled, like someone rustled it somewhere along the line, and he has several grass stains in places along his jersey. Clearly, the Pinch has had little effect on him. Something that she can’t quite name twinges in her gut—and she feels awful for it.

“Well, I was about to head back and crash,” Hop says, saddling up beside her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders, “but I can hardly miss your first gym battle, yeah?”

“I mean, I missed yours,” she chuckles. “You should have told me.”

“Eh, it was sorta spur of the moment.” He shrugs. “I just felt ready, and then I did it.”

Jane blinks, though she isn’t surprised. That is Hop, through and through. His mom likes to laugh that he just started running one day and never stopped. Jane’s often wondered what it would feel like, to just exist without constantly feeling… trapped with herself. Without having to second-guess every decision.

“I’m proud of you,” she says, voice croaking. His grin splits wider, and he squeezes her tight.

“Proud of you too, mate. Now come on, I’ll walk you to the locker room.”

---

transcript of a clip from TrainerWatch Tonight
originally aired: september 25, 202X

A pair of hosts sit at a round desk, with a large monitor behind them. They are all smiles, in the middle of heated conversation. WES sits with a large binder in front of him, his platinum hair slicked back and the elbows of his dress shirt rolled up. ANN, dressed in a beautiful blue pantsuit, takes several sips from a mug of coffee, her eyes fixed on the monitor, which is currently showing clips of various gym battles. The screen soon flickers to black, and ANN turns back to WES, before taking another sip of her coffee.

ANN: “…Now, Wes, tell me about some of the matches we saw in Turffield today.”

WES: “Absolutely. Now, it was a rather eventful day in Turffield, with twenty-one badges earned.”

ANN: “Well, considering how close we are to the end of the Pinch, that’s to be expected.”

WES: “Absolutely, Ann. Plus, this sleepy little town has always been a popular stop for the first badge. But even so, there was some talent on display here, even at this early stage. If I were making bets…”

ANN: “Wes… don’t make me call the producers.”

WES: “Sorry, sorry, just joking. But still, we absolutely have some rising stars to keep an eye on.”

A series of clips is shown, featuring several trainers in battle at Turffield Stadium. Each trainer’s name and badge number is included on the bottom left of the screen while they are visible. The Stadium has been sectioned off into quadrants, with four battles occurring simultaneously. The grassy turf of the Stadium is a radiant green in every clip. KLARA (#881) uses her roselia’s poison to wither the grass beneath it, weakening the opposing steenee. A snom nibbles away at a gossifleur, earning ADAM (#294) the gym badge.

WES: “Turffield is often the first stop for trainers because it is close to Motostoke, and because Grass is a type with a few exploitable weaknesses.”

ANN: “…Said with much love to our grass-type devotees.”

WES: “So while the majority of our winners today had type effectiveness on their side, we had a few trainers who won through sheer force.”

HOP (#189) is shown alongside his wooloo. The wooloo is in the middle of brawling with MILO’s skiddo, taking several hits from the skiddo’s horns. Standing firm, the wooloo tucks into a ball and uses Rollout. The force is enough to bring skiddo to the ground, knocking it out. The clips move on to another trainer.

ANN: “Type effectiveness is good, but it isn’t necessarily the smart move to rely on it early on. As helpful as it is now, anyone who makes it far enough with face a poor type match-up eventually.”

WES: “Well… except the normal-type specialists.”

ANN: “Even then, I have heard scary things about Allister of Stow-on-Side.”

WES: “True. Everyone laughed at the idea of an eighteen year old Gym Leader, but he absolutely terrorized the circuit last year. All the Challengers are going to have to face a challenge like that eventually.”

ANN: “Now, when he was selected, I distinctly remember you advocating for more oversight on Gym Leader selection, Wes.”

WES: “Hey, hey, I owned up to my mistake! No need to dig up the past.”

ANN: "Sorry, you know I can never ignore the opportunity to tease you. Anyway, before we move on to some clips from our losing trainer roundup, do you have anyone else to highlight?”

WES: “I actually do, Ann. This one actually caused a bit of trouble in the Stadium this evening.”

JANE (#283) stands in the arena alongside her butterfree, facing off against MILO’s eldegoss. JANE raises one shaky hand, shouting something to her pokémon, then the butterfree flew up into the sky. Moments later, a wicked force of wind descends upon the stadium, sweeping eldegoss up into a whirlwind.

ANN: “Wow! Is that Hurricane?”

WES: “It absolutely is.”

The Hurricane is so strong that all three other battles need to temporarily pause while the storm continues. Soon, the winds slams eldegoss into the ground, knocking it out cold. JANE runs out into onto the battlefield to meet Milo, her cheeks red and and a stream of apologies leaving her mouth.

WES: “It’s not every day that someone has to pause three other battles while finishing their own.”

ANN: “But how did she sustain Hurricane uninterrupted for that long? Don’t tell me…?”

WES: “Yup. Butterfree’s ability, Compound Eyes, increases their accuracy substantially. Which is likely the only way that it was able to control Hurricane with such finesse.”

ANN: “How much do you attribute that clever play to beginner’s luck?”

WES: “Hard to tell, but I’d give her the benefit of the doubt. Regardless, I’m keeping my eye on Jane there, because early on, we don’t usually see a technical strategy like that.”

ANN: “Here’s hoping she goes the distance, Wes. Not sure your wallet can take any more hits.”

WES: “Hey, c’mon! You’re going to get us both in trouble.”

ANN: “Sorry, sorry. And sorry to our producers as well.”

WES: “Right… on that note, do you want to take us away to today’s Top Ten Trainer Fails?”

ANN: “It would be my absolute honour.”

The monitor flips to a clip from a battle in Hulbury Stadium. A slowpoke is seated on the ground, enduring a barrage of water blasts from its opponent. Its eyes are shut tight, and it appears to be snoring heavily. Its trainer shouts at it from the sidelines, but it is entirely unresponsive.

ANN: “Wes, if I told you this slowpoke slept through a boulder being thrown at it, would you believe me?”

---

Her hands are shaking. They haven’t stopped.

It takes a moment for Jane to ground herself. She sits on a bench in the Stadium locker room, her first gym badge in her hand. She can’t really account for the last half hour. All she remembers is walking out onto the pitch with Milo, nausea and nerves eating her alive. And then the battle… it went so fast. She wasn’t expecting it to go that fast. And now she is here, and she has a gym badge to her name.

She remembers embarrassing herself, but she can’t remember how.

She’s proud of Moira. She remembers that much. They spent so much time over the past few weeks practicing Hurricane, watching dozens of videos and standing in open fields for hours at a time. It was a long shot from the jump, but Moira executed it flawlessly. Well, good enough, anyway.

She isn’t breathing right. It’s shaky and uneven, with a slight wheeze to it. She closes her eyes, and takes a long inhale, held and then released. It only helps a little bit. Her heart is slamming into her chest, threatening to leap from her throat. Adrenaline, excitement, and anxiety, all jumbled into one. It’s a high unlike any other. When was the last time she felt this alive?

Her phone rings, and she nearly throws up. She answers it, lifting her glasses and rubbing her eyes.

“Yeah?” she croaks.

“Hey, champ-to-be.” Leon’s voice, teasing and gentle, is like a bucket of cold water. She snaps to attention, the fog from her mind gone in a blink. “Saw the match. You and Moira were brilliant.”

“Oh… no.” She rubs her eyes again. “How brutal was it, on a scale of one to time to jump into traffic? And Lee, you have to be honest with me.” She blinks. “Wait. You’ve seen it already?”

“Relax, Janie,” Leon replies. “Seriously, you did fantastic. Not many people roll into their first match with a Hurricane in their back pocket.” He snickers. It’s enough to draw a chuckle out of her as well. “As for the spillover into the other matches, well… that sort of stuff happens all the time in the Pinch. The Motostoke trainers have random water-type attacks being thrown into other matches every other minute.”

“Really…?” Jane asks, her heartbeat slowing.

“Really. Just be proud of how incredible you did. First try!”

Jane smiles, then looks down at her shoes. Her eyes start stinging, despite her best efforts, and she dabs at the tears with the edge of her jersey. It’s so stupid. How did he know she needed to hear that?

“Thanks, Lee,” she says, sniffing.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there. Tell Hop to give a big hug for me.”

It’s embarrassing, how comforting that’d be right now. No one gives a hug quite like Leon. He throws everything he has into it, like you’re the only person in his whole world, for just a moment. One time, when they were teenagers, she’d done well on a math test, and he hugged her so hard that he lifted her up off the ground, spinning her around and around. Then they toppled down to the ground, giggling all the while.

“It’s okay,” she replies. “I know you’re busy.”

“Oh, that’s not the issue. Helios and I could be there in a heartbeat.” He pauses. In her mind, she can almost see the furrow of his brow. “I just… I want you and Hop to make your own legacy, Jane. I’ve already endorsed you guys, and if I’m hovering and being all clingy…” He sighs. “Hop is already fighting an uphill battle because he’s my brother, but if I ever accidentally overshadowed one of your accomplishments... I don’t know if I could ever forgive myself.” He clicks his tongue. “Does that make sense?”

“Um… kinda?” Leon might be overthinking all of this. To Jane, a hug from him would be worth more than avoiding like… the potential of people gossiping. “Do you have to worry about this stuff often?”

They share a long, empty moment. “Yeah,” he replies, his voice hollow. “It’s come up before.”

Is she really the only person who sees it? Maybe she’s just reading into things—they weren’t as close as they used to be, not since he took the Challenge and left her behind. Maybe she’s just projecting. He was dreaming about training pokémon at six years old, and now he’s the most powerful trainer in Galar. But his words echo with an unspoken, earth-shattering loneliness. In that way, maybe they were two of a kind.

She knows she should say something meaningful. She doesn’t. All she can offer is a quiet, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s cool,” he says, with a tone that betrays him. “Anyway! I have to ask… how did you like it?”

“Huh?”

“Battling.” His grin is audible. “It’s incredible, isn’t it? When the battle high hits…”

Her mind clear and her heart beating normally, Jane considers this. Before the match, everything was so stressful, and she was so nervous, and there was so many people and noises and cameras. Then the match started, and everything just clicked. When Moira took off into the sky, it was like Jane flew up there with her. She was just… present, in that moment. Focused only on her pokémon and the opponent in front of them.

“Yeah,” she replies, and the flame in her heart flickers. She wants to chase this feeling and live in it forever. She wonders if it always feels that way, even for Leon. “I want to do it again. Immediately.”

A warm, rich laugh rings through the speaker, and her heart soars in turn.