As it turned out, Juan’s journal was going to be more than a one-day project. And that was just one of the resources Drake had sent. I also had a notebook chalk full of advice and training strategies from a man named Arte.
Arte was a Fighting-type specialist, and based on some snooping I did on the GalarNet (after the FerreNet proved an insufficient resource), a former member of Drake’s elite four. The man had retired from battling once the former champion was defeated, and there was a ton of speculation about his motivation for doing so, but most of the conversation wasn’t super relevant to my considerations.
What was relevant were his qualifications, of which there were many. A comrade of Drake’s from the Great War, he’d spent years as one of the stronger members of the sailor’s Elite Four, and he was widely acknowledged as a Fighting-type master.
Unfortunately, the man hadn’t ever trained a Falinks before, which meant his advice was more general than I would have preferred. That didn’t mean it wasn’t plenty valuable, however, and I poured over his notes with just as much enthusiasm as I did Juan’s.
Alas, I didn’t have infinite time to work through the journals, and what time I did have was woefully inadequate.
So to say I was a bit distracted after my return to the ranger station would have been an understatement. I might have taken more time away, except that I’d heard through the grapevine that things were really heating up at the outpost, and I thought that it was important that I was there to help.
As it turns out, I was half right. Things were indeed frantic at Techne Outpost Seven.
Just not for my knights and I.
All of my coworkers were out and about, putting out proverbial fires, which left no one at base to help train us.
And Janine was, understandably, reticent to send me out on another mission so soon after I’d just been injured. Part of me wanted to press her on it, but another part of me remembered the board she maintained in her office, tracking the current death-rate of trainers in the Kanto and Johto regions.
Said part of me was pretty sure that I was alarmingly close to never getting to go on a mission again, so I held my peace. Plus, hanging out at the outpost wasn’t so bad.
After all, there was an ever-growing collection of rescued Pokémon to look after, and if there was one thing about this job that I loved a lot, it was getting to spend time with Pokémon.
I got to meet one of Wilson’s other partners as well, a surprisingly nurturing Swalot named Bellows.
I wouldn’t have thought of the bulbous Poison-type as a good caretaker, but I would have been wrong. He took fastidious care of the station’s rescues, carefully controlling his own toxin output to keep them safe and making sure that they were all fed and watched over appropriately.
Much like his trainer, he was an expert negotiator, able to convince the more experienced wild Pokémon to care for the younger ones, thereby alleviating both of our workloads.
And that described my week, really. Go into the station, care for the rescued Pokémon, train my own partners, and then go home and try to piece through Juan and Arte’s notebooks.
In what felt like no time at all, the weekend rolled around, which meant it was time for the promotion tournament.
Alyssa gave Mrs. Peters, Montressue, mom, and I her family tickets, but since the tournament didn’t coincide with one of mom’s days off, my knights got to share the fourth seat.
It was going to be my third ever trip to the venerable Ferrum Stadium, and the first one since I’d learned that I had synergy sickness.
-
The yearly promotion tournaments for each division were spaced apart so that the region’s most important venue was always available for each respective tournament. The junior circuit had by far the largest number of participants, with a full forty-thousand amateur trainers filling out its ranks. Of those, four-thousand made it into the yearly promotion tourney, joining the weekend-long round robin to try to make the cut to top five-hundred twelve.
That meant going undefeated or five and one across six grueling rounds (or four and two if you were ridiculously lucky). It also meant that there was no way each battle of the weekend could take place in the actual stadium itself.
Rather, the stadium proper was reserved for feature matches, which were picked out a week in advance so the organizers could appropriately research and hype up each battle.
Usually, only the strongest or most interesting matchups got chosen for a feature battle. Seeded challengers, dramatic feuds, and the circuit’s highest-point competitors were the mainstays of the Ferrum Stadium.
Alyssa would be conducting no less than five of her six battles on the main stage.
If you qualified for a feature match, you got tickets to provide to friends and family, and even if only around a fifth of the participants each year qualified for at least one feature match, that still meant that around three-thousand seats in the main arena got handed out for free.
Or approximately ten-percent of the stadium's total guest capacity.
The Ferrum Stadium wasn’t as huge as some of the arenas in the region, but it was the most famous. Its construction dates back years. Originally built almost a century ago, it borders the Sacred Lake, said to be home to one of Ferrum’s guardian deities.
Since then, more arenas and stadiums have popped up in the bustling resort area affectionately known as Lake Town. They’re more modern, have larger capacities, and provide better amenities.
And yet, none of them are as prestigious as the main stadium, built butting against the lake’s serene waters. Nor could any of them command tickets at a fraction of the price as said stadium.
That the FSBC took a ten-percent loss on ticket sales for the junior tournament was lost on no one, but they could hardly stop doing so now. The positive publicity was too important for an organization that many claimed had far too much influence over the culture and economy of the region in its entirety.
That influence hadn’t bothered me when I’d been so sure I’d be one of the people benefitting from it, but I found myself less enthused by it now as I watched people give my knights the stink eye, clearly disdainful of them as they passed by our seats.
Luckily, my partners mostly didn’t notice (or really care), enthralled as they were by the constant spectacle in the arena below.
For the first day of competition, the Ferrum Stadium and the many arenas in Lake Town hosted battles for over ten hours, most of them featuring multiple ongoing fights at the same time. It was a constant barrage to the senses, moves and Pokémon flying at all times, crashing into one another in titanic clashes of tenacity and will.
Or at least, that was the idea.
The junior tournaments tended to be less bombastic, featuring slower, more understandable fights. Ironically, that often made the battles more interesting to the average viewer. By the time competitors were in the Red or Chroma league, the battles were almost illegible to everyone but the most elite trainers, exchanges happening so quickly that even trying to follow them was a headache-inducing affair.
That reality was reflected now in the sold-out arena, every single seat filled with a shouting fan or family member. A year ago, I would have been just as excited. Moreso, even. Indeed, the last time I’d been here at the arena, when my dad was given tickets as part of his holiday bonus, I’d been more than a little enthused.
In Alyssa’s words, I’d completely lost my shit.
Of course, so had she, so the hypocrite didn’t have a leg to stand in my mind.
And now, here I was again, watching from the stands. This time I was much less excited.
Part of it was the small, bitter core of resentment that still tumbled around in my chest. The part of me that wondered what if. The part that railed against the world and its inherent unfairness.
I still wasn’t over it, and I probably wouldn’t be any time soon. If ever.
But that wasn’t the entire reason for my disengagement. The truth of the matter was, the battles just weren’t that interesting. Me from a year ago would have thought the very idea heretical, but now, watching from the stands, the fights on display were just… boring.
Either the fighting was at a low enough level that I honestly thought my knights and I could have had a chance to win– even without synergizing– or the competition was laughably one-sided, the stronger battler completely dominating the other.
There were a few matchups at a higher level, but they were few and far in-between. Watching those rare events really illustrated the stark differences in skill level that existed in the junior circuit.
No other league had the same range of potential talent in their pools, which was mainly a product of the junior division’s sheer size.
And no other competitor made those varied skill levels more stark than Alyssa.
Her and Pikachu blitzed through their battles. In their first match against a trainer and her Lanpert, they barraged the poor Ghost-type with so much lightning that they didn’t even get up for round two.
I still cheered my heart out for my best friend, as did my Knights and Mrs. Peters. The eight of us screamed out support for her, doing our best to get her attention, but the brunette girl was too focused on the tournament, her eyes burning with single-minded determination.
Their second match was more competitive. Barely. The Graveler they battled held out for a minute in the first round before going down, and then another thirty-seconds into the second, before they were declared out of syn.
Her third fight was in another arena, which meant we had a while to observe the rest of the field. Unfortunately, it did no more to impress than it had a few hours ago.
I kept my gaze wide, observing each of the six fights simultaneously, none of them truly interesting enough to capture even a part of my full attention.
Eventually, Alyssa’s fourth battle came around, but it was even more of a blowout than the first, her opponent surrendering just one exchange into the match.
In his defense, his partner was flagging, no doubt tired from the long day of battling. It even made a sort of sense. Best to save your energy for the matches you actually had a chance at winning.
By round five, almost everyone was slowing down. Hours of anxiety and stress, combined with several high-pressure battles, worked together to exhaust the competitors.
But not Alyssa. Nor apparently her round five opponent, who provided the most interesting fight of the afternoon, in my opinion.
He and his Sneasel didn’t look like much of a threat at first, but once they were synergized, that all changed.
They stalked across the battlefield with the same easy grace as Alyssa and Pikachu, no awkwardness or stiffness from their synergy, unlike most of the other competitors.
This kid was the real deal, and for the first time in the day, I was a bit bummed about the lack of commentators to give context for the matchup.
There was just no way to realistically run commentary on so many battles at once, even when almost all eyes were really on just one of the six matches on display.
And no doubt most of the arena was now watching Pikachu and Sneasel square off, the glimmering shields around their arena counting down the start of their battle.
Stolen story; please report.
Whether it was the pressure of the eyes on them or something they noticed themselves, Alyssa and Pikachu gave their opponents more respect than they’d shown anyone else in a battle so far, starting the match by barraging the Ice-type from range with a veritable storm of Thunderbolts.
Somehow, the Sneasel sailed through them, parrying any errant sparks that came too close with elongated claws and sheerly outrunning the rest. Quick Attack, already fast enough without a trainer’s syn bolstering it, reduced the Ice-type to a blur across the arena.
With a resounding clang, rending claws met metal tail, Pikachu barely parrying the Sharp Claw Pokémon’s namesake weapons.
The distance now closed, the Sneasel became a veritable storm of attacks. Shredding Metal Claws and rending Fury Swipes transitioned seamlessly into blustering Icy winds and clamorous Snarls.
Alyssa and Pikachu were no slouches in close combat either, however, matching blow for blow with hardened Brick Breaks and deft Iron Tails.
The Sneasel slipped up first, overextending into an Aerial Ace on a perceived opening. The sure-hit attack ran face-first into an expertly generated Substitute, buying Pikachu just enough time to launch the small Ice-type with an upswung Iron Tail. The follow-up Discharge juggled the Sneasel even higher, and then Pikachu closed the distance with a blistering Quick Attack. Another Iron Tail came out, spiking the Ice-type into ground, and a Thunder Bolt erupted from the Electric-type moments later, screaming through the ionized air towards the downed Sneasel.
What looked like a round-ending hit was avoided, however, by a desperate Protect, the shimmering green barrier barely erupting in time to save the winded Ice-type.
With a flash of violet energy, Pikachu repositioned, using Agility to push herself and adjust her trajectory, away from the Sneasel’s waiting claws.
The Sharp Claw Pokémon saw a moment of weakness, blitzing forwards to reposition underneath the descending Electric-type, but the vulnerability was feigned, and another pulse of Agility saw Pikachu screaming through the air towards the Ice-type, all her downwards momentum now driving her into a blistering Quick Attack.
The Sneasal barely got his claws up in time to try to block the attack, but Pikachu’s descent simply had too much force in it. She blew past the blocking limbs, ramming her head fully into his chest and sending him sprawling.
An alarm blared out, declaring Pikachu’s victory in the round, and a groggy Sneasel retreated to his trainer to lick his metaphorical wounds while a triumphant Pikachu scampered over to Alyssa’s side, clearly basking in her partner’s praise.
Both competitors’ syn were restored, and round two commenced. The Sneasel wasted no time, blurring into an after-image as he crossed the arena with an Aerial Ace.
A Substitute ate the attack once more, but this time the wily Ice-type was ready for the defensive maneuver and immediately followed up his assault with an absolute barrage of Fury Swipes.
This time, it was Pikachu and Alyssa on the defensive, desperately parrying each of the blows in turn, trying to find a way to disrupt their foe’s tempo.
Unfortunately, the Sneasel and his trainer were running hot, and one of their blows slipped past Pikachu’s guard. The small opening was all the Sharp Claw Pokémon needed to capitalize, and with a cackle of triumph, he upped the pressure even further, his constant Fury Swipes now interspersed with Ice Punches and Metal Claws.
And yet, Pikachu was returning each strike, giving almost as good as she got. And for all the Sneasel’s strikes were landing, he couldn’t parley any of them into a true combo, unable to disrupt Pikachu’s defenses enough to truly stagger or launch her.
Still, it was a losing equilibrium for my best friend and her partner, and if things continued apace, they’d be the ones going down this round.
Which they must have realized too, because they went for what I thought was a truly desperate move.
An Ice Punch collided with Pikachu’s stomach, and the Electric-type folded over the attack. Immediately going to capitalize, the Sneasel lashed out with his other claw, the wicked razor glowing with Steel energy.
It was met by Pikachu’s glowing paw, the glowing power of a Brick Break suffusing the limb. The brief parry gave the Electric-type a window, and she took it, grabbing hold of the Sneasel’s extended claw and tugging it under her armpit.
With a start, the Ice-type realized his predicament. Instinctually, he tried to pull free, but Pikachu held fast, keeping both claws affixed under her arms. Electricity began pouring off her cheek pouches, skittering across the pair of interlocked Pokémon and into the ground below as she charged up.
With a yowl of outrage, the Sneasel made her displeasure known, releasing successive point-blank Snarls, trying to get Pikachu to release her grip.
Each blow rocked the Electric-type back, but she didn’t relax her hold for even a second, and the Sneasel's struggles grew increasingly frantic as the air around the pair grew charged. The ionized atmosphere began glowing slightly, visible even through the light-sucking energy made by the Ice-type’s Dark moves.
One more desperate blow slammed into Pikachu, and then the Sneasel sagged, exhausted by his exertion.
And then the light came down.
The roar of the Thunder was actually audible over the hum of the shield generators and through the thick barriers themselves. It crashed down on the pair of intertwined Pokémon, casting them in stark relief against the green pitch below them. Electricity coursed through them, leaving the two Pokémon struggling and seizing as the wild power ran amok, rapidly draining both competitor’s remaining syn.
And yet Pikachu kept at it, her cheek pouches sparking with continual outpourings of energy. Five seconds. Six. Seven. A full ten seconds of eye-searing lightning coursed through the entwined pair until, with a crackle and a sigh, the energy finally ran out.
Both Pokémon, actually slightly singed from the ordeal even through their syn, staggered away from one another.
Pikachu collapsed to all fours, head down, breathing heavily, barely able to stand.
The Sneasel fell to a knee, digging his claws into the pitch underneath him in a desperate attempt to remain upright.
A few seconds passed, as the stadium watched to see which competitor would rise and which would fall.
And the whole stadium was watching now, unable to ignore the fight which had produced such a thunderous spectacle.
A breeze ran through the stands, wafting off the Sacred Lake. With a sigh, a small body collapsed, unable to sustain itself any longer.
Alyssa and Pikachu let out simultaneous cries of victory as the Sneasal’s partner recalled the valiant Pokémon, whispering calm thank yous to the unconscious battler.
Both battle trainers met in the middle of the pitch to shake hands, before returning to their respective tunnels.
Hopefully the Sneasel and his partner would have time to recover before the next round, because in my mind, he definitely deserved to make it to day two far more than any other competitor I’d seen today.
Bar one of course.
At least Alyssa’s last fight wasn’t another forfeiture, but unfortunately, that was about all I could say for it.
Even exhausted from her previous bout, the spunky Electric-type made ridiculously short work of a poor Boldore, dismantling it in almost the exact same way she’d done to the Graveler from earlier in the day.
The fight was a real let-down after how much of a nail-biter the previous battle had been.
Hopefully day two would be more interesting.
-
But before that, we still had dinner to attend to. Lunch had been consumed in the arena, concessions sustaining us through the long day, but now it was time for an actual meal. And even better, we got to meet up with Alyssa.
My best friend was flush with victory, her expression joyous as she went about consuming just about everything the waiters put in front of her.
Rather than being tired from the day's exertions, or excited by her success in her matches, she just seemed content now that it was over. She barely even talked about the battles, more interested in discussing her and Pikachu’s recent training or how she planned to climb as quickly through the Green League as possible.
Making a quick ascension was dependent on placing well on day two of the tournament. The higher your result, the further up into your next league you placed. If you didn’t at least crack the top thirty-two, your chances of qualifying for the promotion tournament in ten months was pretty low.
Alyssa treated her reaching those high rankings as a given, and based on the level of competition we’d seen, I didn’t doubt her assessment. As it turned out, the Sneasel trainer, one Brian Randt according to Alyssa, was actually this year's second seed.
As in, he was the junior circuit competitor with the second-highest ranking in the entire league. In theory, that meant he and his Sneasel were the second strongest competitors at this tournament, though obviously reality and statistics didn’t always align, considering Alyssa’s decisive victory. It did a lot to explain her confidence, however.
After dinner, it was time to find a place to spend the night. There were a few options when it came to resting for the evening during a two-day tournament. The first was returning home, but none of us wanted to take the three hour train ride to return to Techne. The second option was staying at one of the hotels in Lake Town, which was what many spectators ended up doing. Unfortunately, booking even a single room at this time of year was, predictably, exorbitantly expensive. The third option was taking the train into Neos city and finding a place to stay there, but really, that just combined the downsides of the first two.
And then there was option four, the one traditionally chosen by the majority of challengers at Lake Town during the junior tournament. Setting up a tent and camping out on the shores of the Sacred Lake.
The custom went back centuries. Almost a millenia, some scholars thought. The Sacred Lake, home to one of the region's guardian deities, had long been a neutral meeting place for the scattered people of Ferrum.
In the distant past, delegations would arrive at the lake and set up huge tent villages on the gleaming shores, meeting once a year to trade news, goods, Pokémon, and their own tribesmen as spouses.
And on top of these exchanges came another type of interfacing. Honor duels, hosted between the various champions of each group and their partners, joined together through the mystical connection that certain special humans and Pokémon could create using raw synergy stones.
Some people to this day still tracked their lineages to these champions, like Alyssa’s family the Madaka’s, or the Keys family, who partnered with Suicune, the lake’s guardian deity.
Once the region was unified and communication through courier and mail became easier, these meetings lost their importance, but great festivals were still held at the lake every year, along with the duels between champions. Eventually, as the league formed, and technology advanced to open synergizing up to the majority of the population, these festivals became grand tournaments, where almost everyone who lived in the region could have a chance to prove themselves.
And just like their forebears, the competitors would rest their heads on the edges of the lake, trusting the guardian’s protection to secure the peace of this place. Once, a rare chance for the ever-vigilant defenders of their people to safely rest their head, now, an even rarer chance to feel a spiritual connection to our ancestors and their great protector.
Some people said that even to this day, Suicune would walk amongst the small tent city, ensuring that nothing untoward happened to the brave competitors who arrived to battle in his domain.
If he was out there, we didn’t notice him, sleeping in Alyssa’s cramped tent. But at least the night was peaceful.
-
Day two of the competition had the potential to be even more brutal than day one. Competitors fought in six rounds on the first day, but if you won out, you might need to battle in nine full matches on day two.
Of course, most people wouldn’t get that opportunity in the brutal single-elimination bracket.
My best friend was not most people. Something the commentators were keenly aware of, as they returned with a vengeance now that they were free to descend upon the competition.
Five-hundred twelve competitors on day two meant five-hundred eleven matches, and the Ferrum Sports Broadcasting Channel was absolutely determined to make as much of a spectacle as possible out of each and every single one of them.
Unfortunately, Alyssa was hardly obliging, easily decimating her first four opponents with almost contemptuous ease. Top sixteen was her first battle that looked even a little bit difficult, but she still closed it out quickly enough without even going to a third round.
Somehow, her top eight battle was easier, sort of a let-down that late in the day, but the quarterfinals were actually interesting.
For the first time in the competition, Alyssa’s opponent pushed her to the full three rounds. The Adorable Whimsicott she was facing fought with shocking ferocity, steadfastly refusing to go down no matter how much they got pressured.
My best friend and her partner did eventually manage to eke out a second win, and advance to the semi-finals. I thought they’d have another tough battle, and their semi-finals opponent wasn’t any sort of slouch, but Alyssa and Pikachu proved too overpowering and were able to take another clean two-zero. Which just left the finals.
-
It was late, the air was cold, and the day had been long.
And yet.
And yet, not a single spectator in the sold-out stadium moved a single step towards an exit.
The finals were finally here. The thing almost everyone had been waiting for. The definitive match that would prove who were the strongest battlers of the Junior Circuit.
Nevermind that someone might have had an off day, or been sick, or gotten an unfavorable matchup. According to the commentators, it was fate, no, destiny that these two pairs had made it this far.
On one side, Alyssa Madaka, scion of the venerable Madaka house, tearing through her first year in the league with an almost unheard of record of 57 wins, and one loss. By forfeiture.
On the other, Brian Randt, an orphan from Tellur Town. An absurd success story, he and his partner Tallook had had a disastrous first year, barely qualifying enough points to stay in the circuit. And yet, somehow, they’d hung on, only to explode through their second year, going on to achieve the second highest total number of battle points amongst all competitors in the league.
Both competitors had met in the preliminaries, where Alyssa dealt Brian his only loss of the tournament. Brian had fallen to an unfavorable bracket, but had defeated both the first and third place battle point holders to stand here, in the finals.
It should have been a momentous fight.
The spectators wanted it. The commentators wanted it. I’m pretty sure even Alyssa wanted it. But it wasn’t to be.
Two-zero sweep. Five total minutes.
Maybe Alyssa and Pikachu just had the other pair’s read now. Maybe Brian had had a tougher bracket and came into the final fight exhausted after eight grueling rounds of competition. Maybe the stress of the finals just got to him and his partner.
Whatever the reason, Pikachu and Alyssa dominated the other pair in what ended up being a pale shade of yesterday’s battle.
There were still cheers. Shouts of exultation and excitement. I did my best to add my own to the mix, cheering on my best friend with everything I had.
But at the end of the day, I think everyone in the stadium went home that night at least a little disappointed by that final fight.
Even Alyssa. Maybe her especially.
