[Pokémon] I, Champion

Synopsis: Even before he became the most powerful person in the world, Smithley was a trainer first and foremost. There can be nothing without a beginning, nor an end without a middle. And, in the midst of the chaos, he knew what he wanted most... and how to attain it. There were things out there worth saving, after all.


"Sir?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you want me to file these memos for you? I-I mean, if you're done-"

"That's fine, Clarice. Thank you."

With nary a sigh, Smithley glanced out of the frost-glazed window mere inches from his visage, only half-paying attention to his attendant's shuffling of the files amassed on the desk behind him, nothing but a small burden of what this position had to offer.

World Champion? More like a World Sham. Or something like that.

As quickly as she had come, Clarice slipped away from his office and shut the door as tightly as she possibly could, perhaps afraid of what would occur if she lingered. Smithley elicited a breath from his lips, feeling pity for the woman. He continued to gaze out of his window across the green-tipped fields of Lily of the Valley Island, which offered a small piece of solace from what had been a turbulent few weeks.

He knew his subordinates were still afraid of him. They didn't have to be, though he didn't particularly blame them after the horrific bashing given to their prior leader.

How had the old champion fallen so easy? Was that all his predecessor had to offer?

Smithley chuckled to himself, choosing to ignore the scenery of the island for a few moments. He turned back to his desk, eyebrows furrowed at the mounds of legal documents still awaiting his signature. It was about now he was starting to wish there was a warning label that came with being the new champion; defending his title wasn't going to be enough. Despite how well Magcargo and Talonflame had performed in the victory match, they weren't going to be able to help him here.

Nor would Blaze...

Where was Blaze, anyway?

Smithley twirled a navy-blue pen around his fingertips, knowing his partner was scouring every nook and cranny of their new home here on Lily of the Valley Island. The thought comforted him as he burned through the nearest file, earmarked for funds to the Indigo League Officer Corps.

Then it'd be off to Johto... and Kanto... and Kalos and Orre and Hoenn and Almia and-

Oh, Arceus.

It was starting to become a bit much.

Blaze's aura tinged in the confines of Smithley's mind as his right hand ached from the constant signing, pushing the completed results into a tray at the corner of the oaken desk. His partner wormed his way into the mental bond they shared, expressing disgust at the sheer volume of work to be done.

"You really thought we'd end up here, old friend?" Smithley thought, always acutely aware when Blaze was peering in.

"..."

"Well?"

"... Perhapsss."

"You could always do with a little less hissing, you know. Strengthening your vocabulary does wonders."

And as suddenly as he had come, Blaze withdrew with mild irritation. It was certain he knew he was beaten, even while stretching his wings around the island with ever-increasing vigor. The new champion smiled, knowing his partner had always despised any interest in the linguistic arts.

Not as if Blaze could actually speak, anyway. It was a valid position, though stunted by the limitations of what Pokemon could muster as speech.

Shaking the retreating fringes of Blaze's mind, Smithley's thoughts returned to the weight of his position. As absurd as it sounded, it existed. And he had a responsibility to it.

A responsibility he intended to uphold.

Funny, he mused. The world seemed too big to warrant such a thing, though there were many who so desperately wanted a champion to protect them. Obviously, dictatorial control would be pushing it, but there were quite a few perks associated with the position.

At first, it sounded like an unattainable goal over the years, but it slowly became within reach the stronger Smithley grew. It was only a shame such strength wouldn't help him now as he perused through yet another file, this time detailing something about a dispute over the Sinjoh Ruins.

"Individual sovereignty my ass," he muttered, scribbling a statement that would allow litigation to continue. Of all the unlikeliest spats between Johto and Sinnoh, it had to be this one.

The champion straightened the papers contained within, pushing them aside and reaching for a magenta-colored packet. Smithley's eyes wandered across the file, hoping he'd be able to get some ball-to-the-wall training done with his team before the end of the day. Alas, it was not to be as he groaned existentially; there was absolutely no way this could be happening right now. Unfortunately, he saw only one possible remedy to resolve this issue.

"CLARICE!"

"I-I'm coming, sir," the woman responded, bursting through the doors of his office. A tinge of red was splayed across her facial features with a dash of fluster. "What do you n-need?"

"Isn't this supposed to be a state matter? Why do I have jurisdiction in... this Team Aqua and Magma thing? Hoenn's Pokemon League should be handling this, no?"

"Champion Stone needs your permission to excavate both caverns. International law guarantees protection to these areas," Clarice explained, adjusting her plastic-rimmed glasses for the millionth time. "That's why it's in the purple file. Technicalities."

"Ah. Thanks, Clarice."

"My pleasure, sir," she responded, Smithley noticing her body language slowly growing more confident by the second. "By the way, I've been told to remind you of your two o'clock appointment. Cynthia is waiting in the lounge for you, sir. Shall I send her in?"

"Ah, yes. Please do."

The champion muttered to himself, tossing the Hoenn file aside in frustration. As Clarice retreated to fetch the jewel of Sinnoh, he ran a hand through his hair to alleviate the forgetfulness of the appointment, noting its scraggly length.

A solid cut later would have to do. First were more pressing issues, starting with whatever the head of the Sinnoh League deemed so important as to come here in person today.

Almost on cue and quicker than a Rotom's flash, Cynthia Shirona snaked past the enameled doors of Smithley's office, her black-clad trappings swaying in the air. A flickering fire burned in the corners of her eyes, something he recognized as prevalent in nearly any trainer who was worth their salt. Indeed, if her Garchomp was anything to go by, she was no joke on the battlefield.

"Cynthia."

"... Champion."

"Please," he begged, wishing to disseminate the tension in the room, "call me Josh."

Sinnoh's leader allowed the corners of her lips to tug upwards, reaching to shake his outstretched hand. "Too pretentious for you already... Josh?"

"You could say that."

"I thought so. It took me an eternity to get my staff to knock it off," Cynthia sympathized, taking a seat in one of the nearby leather-bound chairs. "They never tell anyone about that part. Miss Champion this, Miss Champion that."

"I can tell. The paperwork isn't doing me any favors either," Smithley admitted, taking a seat in his own chair; its ermine-trimmed furs poked at his overcoat. "I'm telling you, Cynthia, the pomp and circumstance are irrelevant. Damn it, we're supposed to be here to define the art of Pokemon battling. Foster bonds. Conduct research. And what have you - I'm sure you get my point."

The Sinnoh native shrugged. "Government doesn't run itself, Josh. You know that."

"I do. Which brings us to the reason you're here."

"You catch on quickly."

"I didn't become world champion by having a hollow skull, as you may surmise."

"Fair," Cynthia continued. "Very well. At seven in the evening yesterday, Sinnoh time, a remote unit of the DRL-"

"Bring me up to speed here. DRL?"

"Dimensional Research Lab, Sinnoh branch. Burnet subcontracted some of her researchers out to monitor the anomalies we've been having here in the region. Weren't they covered in your security briefing?"

"Haven't gotten it yet," Smithley sighed, flipping through a yellow file absentmindedly. "It's only my first day. But do continue, please."

"Anyway, it came as a surprise when our League's headquarters lost contact with the unit at the aforementioned time. The wormholes mentioned in their reports have been nothing but stable, but they suddenly... vanished, for lack of a better word. There's been no reported contact with the anomalies either."

Smithley looked up from the file, a worrisome line scrunching across his forehead. "Cynthia, not that I don't care or anything, but why is this is a federal... uh, worldly... whatever you call it, sort of issue? I don't think dispatching an outfit of United Regions Intelligence would do us any good."

"You're right, but there's an overlap of Alolan and Sinnohian jurisdiction. We're asking you and the United Regions to intervene."

"Is this going to happen a lot?"

"Depends."

"Have it your way, then," caved the champion, feeling a small headache beginning to form. "I don't see a need for further discussion if I can be of considerable help. Now's a good time to flaunt things around a bit, anyway. Make a mark."

Cynthia smiled, crossing her arms in satisfaction. "Perfect. I knew you'd come around."

"Hey!" Smithley exclaimed, rising from his desk, "I'm only doing it because... wait, it's coming back to me. Is there more paperwork involved?"

"There's always paperwork involved."

"You've got to be kidding-

"One of us signed up for this job," Cynthia interrupted, adjusting herself to face the new champion, "and it wasn't me. Trust me, Josh, I don't envy you. Just do what you can."

"I don't know. It feels like I'm doing nothing with this legalese pounding me constantly, and it's only the first day in office. My apologies."

"No," Cynthia replied, making eye contact as she rose. "Don't be sorry. Be better. That's my advice, champion to champion."

A muted silence settled between the two for a solid minute, allowing Smithley a moment to process her words. They rang with the throngs of truth, despite his misgivings of the situation. It was true, perhaps, that he overextended himself. And the real truth was he knew exactly what the job entailed. The world needed a change, after all. It was time to create a new slate and brush away the old guard.

"Send the last guy a card yet?" Cynthia asked, easing to another topic with the grace of a Togekiss.

"He doesn't need one. It's lying in a ten-foot hole with his Espeon," smirked the champion, catching on to what she was doing. "You've seen the footage, I assume?"

"I did."

"I do feel bad for him, though. He seemed a decent man."

"He was. Not the most communicable, but he did try. It's funny, being there so long and thinking yourself unattainable," mused Sinnoh's champion. "To be at the top yet to fall so far. How humbling."

"You're not trying to gun for my position, are you?"

"Arceus no. I've got enough responsibility for two lifetimes. Have at it," Cynthia chuckled, sharing in the jest. "I should be going, though. The world doesn't stop revolving from dusk to dawn. You've got enough on your plate by the looks of those papers, anyway. Trust me, I've got no regrets."

Better than dealing with religiously-charged Pokemon cults, Smithley thought.

"Then I'm very glad to hear it. Thanks for coming, Cynthia- Clarice will show you out now."

Smithley gestured to the door behind Sinnoh's champion, the air remaining devoid of an answer despite the call for his secretary.

"CLARICE?"

"Coming!" flustered the girl, popping through as hurriedly as she could. "Yes, sir?"

"Would you escort this lovely lady out, please? We're done here."

Clarice composed herself quickly, only sacrificing barely a second of her professionalism. "Miss Shirona, please, I'll show you out. I trust you've had a pleasant time?"

"Wait," butted the champion, "Before I forget, I do have one last thing to ask- you realize we could've done this with a phone call, right?"

"Nah. I wanted to see if the rumors were true."

"Rumors?"

Cynthia elicited to ignore his question, instead giving a nod of affirmation to Clarice. She tilted her head towards Smithley one last time, giving him a sly wink. Sinnoh's champion followed Clarice out of the office, leaving the most powerful trainer in the world at a loss for words as their footsteps trailed further and further away. It was only several moments later that Smithley managed to collect his thoughts, wondering what to make of the encounter.

There was one phrase that continued to stand out to him, however. It rang in his head, demanding to be known.

"Be better," he mused, the floor under him click-clacking from the pacing of his boots. It echoed from one end of the room to another, its ebony walls boxing him in like a barricade to some long-lost memory.

"Where have I heard that before?"

Smithley returned to the head of the desk, slumping back onto the headrest of his chair. While picking up another file, his eyes came to the attention of a photograph nestled nearby; for all her shortcomings, Clarice had the unusual predisposition of decorating his desk with knickknacks. Nestled within the fringes of the photograph was the smiling visage of a fifteen-year-old in front of a large building. A navy-red jacket adorned his figure, obviously a symbol of sorts for the ancient structure behind him. Its foundations were solid as can be, yet looked so fragile at the same time.

Be better...

Yes, the new champion had heard that phrase before. Be better.

Five years ago to be exact.

Yes, five years ago.

"FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!"

The raucous cheers of thirty students rang through Smithley's ears, their voices filling the academy yard with noises loud enough to scare away the local Mothims.

"Kill 'em, Dan!" shouted one, shaking a fist at the scene unfolding in the midst of the commotion. A small battlefield was set within, occupied with the clashes of a Drilbur and a Cranidos in fierce opposition of one another.

"C'mon, Ellie. Don't give in," Smithley muttered, rubbing his hands with considerable anxiety. "Just hold on."

All the while, he couldn't help but feel sorry for the girl. Initiation day was no joke here at the academy, and if she couldn't hold on, there wouldn't be much of her reputation left to salvage.

Like me.

Ellie desperately shouted a futile order to her Cranidos, lost in the din and thunder of the crowd's cheers. Before the Head Butt Pokemon could react, Drilbur lowered his torso for a vicious Skull Bash and charged forwards. In the blink of an eye, the mole made contact quite spectacularly and sent Ellie's partner flying across the yard with enough speed to make a Flareon look like a joke.

BOOM!

Cranidos hit the ground with a thud loud enough to make teeth chatter. The Pokemon's eyes were rolled up in the classic fainting pose, complemented with scratches scattered around her body. Ellie rushed forward to tend to her fallen friend, returning Cranidos to her Pokeball while tears threated to spill from her eyes.

Damn it, Smithley thought. She's dead meat.

"Bam!" roared Ellie's opponent, waving to the crowd. "And there you have it, folks. A real, tailored-honest-to-Arceus wipeout."

"DAN! DAN! DAN! DAN!" cried the throng of academy students, all too self-absorbed to care about anything else. They wanted an entertaining match and they got one.

If wipeouts could be described as anything, Dan Whitehouse was the living personification of one. Anyone who couldn't last a minute against his Drilbur...

Well, Ellie found out firsthand. It was in light of such a realization that Smithley rushed over to her while the crowd paid attention to Dan, reaching out to nudge her shoulder.

"Oh! Josh..." she muttered.

"Hey, it's okay. Most people can't do it the first time," he assured, rubbing her arm soothingly. "You wanted to work with Pokemon anyway, didn't you? At least you've got a chance."

"By battling, dummy. Do you have any idea how much I wanted to do mega evolution? Now I can't even..." Ellie sniffled, sobs racking her lithe frame.

"Let's get you up to your lodge, hm? C'mon, it'll be okay," Smithley consoled, taking the opportunity to help the girl to her feet.

Slowly, step by step, both of them managed to squeak by the cluster of arms now surrounding Dan Whitehouse, none of them paying attention to the two stragglers, the survivors. It wasn't like anyone was going to notice.

The sun glinted off of Ellie's tears, which made Smithley all the more uncomfortable in the heat. His jacket wasn't doing him any favors, the red fabric trapping air molecules within. The gravity of both situations propelled him to hurry the girl as quickly as possible to Lodge Four, situated at the far end of the battlefield and far out of reach of the bloodthirsty crowd.

Admittedly, it was one of the more unusual initiations. Dan usually took the time to monologue afterward, but Smithley supposed the excitement of the day and the vigor of his supporters got to him in the end. If it hadn't been addressed yet, it certainly would be at dinner.

The fifteen-year-old grew more concerned as Ellie said nothing with each passing moment, only choosing to let loose one of the few things she had left - tears.

Fortunately, the pair reached the safety of the wooden lodge before things got worse. In mere minutes, Smithley managed to find the door to her room three floors above, grasping the key from her shaking hands and opening it with a flourish.

Sure, there were supposed to be rules. Everyone was out at the moment, so it wasn't like it would matter.

Arceus was to be praised when the girl's tears managed to stop flowing as soon as the door closed. She threw herself on the bed, hands clasped to her face.

It was in this small moment of silence that Smithley wondered if she was really prepared for initiation judging by the way things happened.

"Has Trev talked to you about this yet?" he asked.

"A little... b-but n-not really," Ellie sniffled, desperately trying to keep a hold on herself.

Smithley sighed. She had heart, at the very least. Though it was more worrying that Trevor didn't bother explaining the initiation to her sooner.

So much for a best friend.

"Okay, here's how this works. You either last a minute against him or you don't. If you did, you go straight to the trainer stuff. If you didn't, the academy places you somewhere else. Breeding, analytics, farming - your choice, so it's not all that bad."

"I-it is!"

"Alright, maybe it's a little bad. But wait a year or two and there might be a free spot in the-"

"But why? Why can't I? This isn't what I signed up for," Ellie cried. "My parents spent a fortune to send me here. If they find out-"

"They're still getting their money's worth. Ellie, it's not like battling is the only good thing coming out of this academy, you know. Education matters. And, besides... it's not like I can do anything about it. The president made it very clear what she wants in trainer graduates."

"Should... shoulda be in the brochure," she sighed, slowly starting to come to terms with her situation. "They really gotta be more clear about that."

"I know. It sucks. I'm sorry Dan had to be the one to lay it into you. It happens."

"Why even him? I dunno, sounds like the professors should be doing it. They're teaching us, right?"

"I wouldn't worry about it too much," Smithley snorted, giving Ellie a reassuring pat. "They usually pick some senior to carry the thing out. Dan's got one of the best records out there, so they have him do it most of the time. His Drilbur is no slouch, as I think your Cranidos knows. How is she?"

"I'll find out when I get her to the center," mumbled the girl, thumbing the ball in which the Head Butt Pokemon rested. "She's a tough gal, though. I've got faith."

"Good. Faith is very important if you want to survive here," stressed the fifteen-year-old, taking a position on the floor. "From an oldie to a newbie - hang on to it."

Ellie brightened up for the first time that hour, the beginnings of a thought crossing her mind. "What was it like in your initiation? You failed, right? That's why you're not a trainer."

"Actually, I opted out. I don't even have a Pokemon."

"What? Why?!"

"Don't need one."

"Are you saying that just 'cause you didn't wanna fight?"

"Nah. Not really that interested in battling, honestly. I'm here for the statistics."

"The... wha? What is that supposed to mean?" Ellie stuttered. "Anyone who's who does hardcore training. Megas, gyms, contests - they all go for that. You're two years from graduation and you've got nothing?"

"Think, Ellie. Everything in this world... people, Pokemon, flowers, trees, nature! Don't you understand? It's their harmony that binds them all together. It's beautiful, it's just, it's kind. I want to find out why. So, I collect everything I can. I analyze. I make sense of why this world is the way it is."

"Sounds pretty vague to me."

"Yeah, that's fair."

Smithley lifted his hands, taking the opportunity to pace around the room. He stopped for a moment, then paced again. Then stopped. Then paced. After all, he would be lying to himself if he claimed to completely understand why he was here in the first place. Sure, the academy had a stellar reputation, but he supposed it was an excuse to get away. He was lost, floating adrift in the sea of life.

"How could you even pay to come here? Did your parents dump you or something?" Ellie asked after a while, seizing the chance to dig a little deeper.

Smithley shrugged. "I didn't want to blow all my inheritance on squat. Only good thing my pops ever left me."

"I'm sorry..."

"Don't be," he ordered, a dark glint flashing behind his eyes. "He's gone now. I don't like to talk about it."

"Okay."

"You're going to be fine?"

"Yeah."

The fifteen-year-old nodded, giving Ellie one last pat for comfort. "Good. I'll see you in the mess for dinner?"

"Yep."

Nothing more needed to be said, so Smithley considered the matter closed. He stood up to leave, both him and Ellie understanding when there was a time for further words. He closed the door behind him, leaving her to contemplate in peace. Now nothing stood between him and her room save for the hallway, its ornamental colors momentarily dazing him. Too much red for his taste.

It was quiet. Unearthly. Either everyone was in class or participating in the midday soiree outside. Nothing stirred save for the reflection gazing at Smithley from the laminate floors, an obvious extravagance for the student lodges.

Who could even afford laminate, anyway? Certainly, Granite Hills Academy could, especially at the rate they were cranking out proficient battlers.

Smithley left the lodge as hurriedly as he could, trampling down staircase after staircase until he reached the bottom, making sure he wasn't being stalked. All the while, Ellie's words continued to echo the back of his head as a ringing call to action.

This isn't what I signed up for.

Do you know how much I wanted to try megas?

Why even him?

The fifteen-year-old stepped outside, feeling a gentle breeze wash over him. It rollicked across the nearby mountainside, giving Smithley a moment of clarity in the turbulent storm of his life. As far as the eye could see, rocky outcroppings continued to stretch across the western portion of the island in which he stood upon. And, if he could squint his eyes just right, he could see the outline of the radio tower over on Renbow.

For all the academy's faults, Oblivia was quite possibly the best place it could be located. It was remote, isolated, free from the burdens of major civilizations.

He wished people could see it all. The beauty of it. The inevitability. The universe rose from the brink, only to fall.

And it was the people here who hurt Ellie. Their competition and a drive to be the best damaged a girl who hadn't even reached the legal voting age. Sure, none of them really meant it, after all. That wasn't the point of Pokemon battling; most of them were good people.

Smithley was tired of it. He cocked his head from left to right, taking a quick glance at the battlefield in which Ellie had fallen; it was now devoid of those raucous spectators from the match. Another glance fell upon a trainer complex nestled three-hundred yards away, the shared symbol of every Pokemon League fixed proudly upon it. A Pokeball stood emblazoned in the middle, accented by zig-zags of lines that vaguely resembled lightning bolts, a catalyst for what was to come.

One last stop, he thought. He had to solve this issue and solve it quickly.

For Ellie's sake.

It was for her sake the Oblivia native stepped into the doors of the building, knowing exactly who to seek out. If anyone could help him out with the problem, it'd be one of his few friends in the technician division.

Funny. For all the things Pokemon battling could do, nobody could come up with a better name to describe it. The reminder stuck as Smithley strolled the halls, the framed pictures of past academy graduates reaching the far corners of his vision. Winners of Pokemon Leagues, contests, racing, and what-have-you stared at him from the eons of history.

But no analysts. It was some sort of bizarre amalgamation of a public university, save for formal training being suspended if somebody couldn't even pass that stupid one-minute initiation.

The lucky man was ahead, Smithley seeing him input some calculations in the control room immediately within reach. It stood in the center of the building, the beeping of various computers masking the fifteen-year-old's approach. With relative ease, he snuck in unmolested.

"I know you're there."

"Arceus, Thomas. There's no way you heard me."

"Don't need to. Sensors tripped," mumbled the teen, refusing to look up from his screen. He tapped a nearby monitor, its red flashes indicative of an intruder warning.

"Freak," Smithley goaded, taking the opportunity to peek out of the top-to-bottom windows surrounding the room. "How's the project coming?"

"Not bad. If I do it right, we should be able to swap out the fields like in the big leagues, Y'know, in and out?"

"I got you," he replied, taking notice of the four battlefields within his peripherical. Earth, water, grass, and rock platforms all laid at perfect angles from each other, preserved in pristine condition for the next day's training.

"So, what is it you want?" Thomas asked. "You never come here without a good reason."

Smithley moistioned his lips in anticipation. "I can't drop in and visit a friend?"

"That's bullshit and you know it," fired back the technician, finally tearing himself away from the mess of monitors consuming his attention. "So, spill."

"Fine. I know there's initiation and all that, but-"

"Is it about that girl?"

"... Yeah."

"Can't let it get to you, Smithley," chuckled his friend, taking a moment to look him in the eye. "I heard about the incident. You know the rules. They ain't changing."

"What if they did?"

"You can't possibly be suggesting-"

"Come on, Thomas. She's an eleven-year-old. How long have we been letting them wipe out over and over?"

"It works, Josh. People get over it. Then they grow. They can transfer out. They could train in secret. There's nothing stopping them," he snorted. "It's just the way we do things around here. Plenty of eleven-year-old trainers out there. Ten, even."

"Look at me, Thomas. I know you have pull with the president. She might listen to you. Just ask if it's possible to widen the training divis-"

"I'd rather have Giratina reach up from under and drag me down," interrupted the technician, a spark of fury erupting from within. "You keep doing this every time. You have those insane ideas, then I have to take the fall for it. Academy policy works here, and it'll keep working fifty years from now!"

"You're Kasa's grandson, Thomas! You can't pretend it didn't get you anywhere here."

"And how many times do you think she'd even listen to any of us? Tell me if she's even taking meetings with a single academy student."

"That's not the point and you know it."

"It absolutely is. Damn it, why try? People come to this place to get what they want. If you don't like it, leave! Hell, if you're so desperate, take an empty trainer spot if it opens up. You want to change initiation so bad? Be a part of it! Be like Dan!"

Smithley balled his fists, regretting his role in the increasingly charged tension of the conversation.

"I won't."

"Then fight him yourself! No, wait. It's coming back to me now," Thomas sneered. "That's right, you don't even have a Pokemon. Do you realize how bloody useless that is? Fat lot of good it does being here, huh?"

"Shut up, Thomas. Don't let it get to you."

"No, you're going to. You're dead weight here, Smithley. Do you understand that? Pore over statistics all day if you want, but you're not getting anywhere with that. You need blood, heat, and a will to fight. Look at me, damn it."

The fifteen-year-old couldn't quite meet the eye of his elder, instead fixing a haughty gaze on some distant horizon. He wouldn't dare give Thomas the satisfaction.

No. He wouldn't.

"Houndour didn't want to battle. Wouldn't have made it a day if this is the way we're running things down here," Smithley challenged, mustering enough courage to look at him for an instant. "So I let him go. It happens."

"And where is he now?"

Smithley felt a wave of shame wash over him. "I don't know."

"Exactly. You're what's wrong with initiation. That's why I'm mad," Thomas sighed, finally getting his temper under control. "Listen... you're my friend. But you can't keep on going like this."

"Yeah."

"Good."

The air reverberated with the sparks of the exchange, slowing giving way to cooler heads. Smithley leaned against one of the windows, letting his back slide in penance for the Pokemon he had lost. Hell, he wasn't even sure if he'd be ready to talk about it again.

Almost as if on cue, Thomas came to join him, placing his body in the same position. "You talk to Trev yet?"

"No, not really."

"Pft. If the crying was anything to go by, I don't think he did a very good job."

"You saw Ellie crying?"

The technician grimaced. "Yeah. I was outside. Probably didn't see me, but what can you do?"

"Pretty much."

"You're a nice guy, Josh. You could do a lot of good. Just try."

"Thanks, Tom," the fifteen-year-old murmured, Houndour still fresh on his mind.

"You got it. Now get out of here," he snorted. "I've got work to do. If you want a flawless system ready before the Verdure Cup next month, then I need to get back to having no social life."

Smithley straightened himself out, giving a quick nod to his friend. "That, I can help you out with. See you at dinner?"

"You bet."

Oblivia's native surged towards the door with a nonplussed attitude, the clicking of Thomas' tongue causing him to stop.

"And... I'll ask Kasa for you. She'll probably say no, but I'll see what I can do."

For once, a grin spread across Smithley's face. "Thanks, man."

With an affirmative grunt that barely passed as human, he continued on his way out, the pictures of championship winners no longer boring holes in his soul. The warm light of the yard greeted him, away from the doom and gloom of the training complex. All around him, the buildings of the academy jutted out like pines in the midst of a rocky mountain, partially true thanks to the composition of Mitonga Island. If this is what the school stood for... if this is what the training program stood for... then plans would have to be made.

Thomas was right.

Smithley rubbed his chin, delving into deeper thought. He believed, without a doubt, the battlers here were wrong. They were wrong in what they did and what they fought for. Pokemon battling shouldn't ever have to rely on who was stronger or weaker, nor who won and lost. No, there were too many who had relinquished sight of what battling stood for. There were even those who couldn't mega evolve their partners, despite how hard they tried. And that was coming from an analyst who barely had a single match at fifteen years old.

It was time to change the game. For Ellie. For Thomas. For Trevor, no matter how much of an idiot he was.

Smithley noticed a nearby dais, propped at the top of the small meadow allowing entry into academy grounds. It bore the motto of the school with stenciled letters, proudly standing for all to see.

He was ashamed of it. But he was proud of it, too. It represented everything right and wrong about the school, and it mirrored exactly what he now realized Thomas was trying to tell him.

If nobody was going to do it, he'd take matters into his own hands. He'd do it himself.

Indeed, for the motto was simple and small. Emblazoned with only two words, it allowed Smithley to grace a small smile. It'd be what he would use.

"Be better," it said.