Interlude – Spectators

Interlude – Spectators

INTERLUDE - SPECTATORS

Anxiety coiled around Temperance's neck like an Ekans looking to asphyxiate her. She did not show it—not with so many people around, including her friends. She was perfection, and perfection could not be outwardly nervous. The coordinator was surprised at how many eyes were set on a low-stakes battle such as this, especially with dozens of stadiums to choose from constantly running fight after fight. Granted, in the Conference, one could argue that every battle's stake was high. It certainly felt that way in her heart waiting for Cece's third battle to begin. Her current score was zero wins, two losses, the second of which she could have won had she stood her ground and not let doubt cloud her mind. Losses early did not matter—no, they did. They were mentally taxing and ramped up the pressure, squeezing a trainer's heart to see if it was steel or cloth.

Temperance knew her girlfriend might be able to afford a few more losses, but would that send her spiraling? Her new style, albeit effective, was still clumsily implemented under so many eyes, and trainers did not tend to remember that Pokemon, too, got nervous and felt the pressure to perform. Few people knew this more than coordinators themselves. Again, Temperance's gaze found itself drawn to the enormous corridor Cecilia would be arriving from.

She wished she could have been down there with her to squeeze her hands tight and warm them.

"Who is Cece—" Kael shrunk from the way Temperance glared at him, "—Cecilia fighting again?"

Of course, everyone in the group had come to support Cecilia in her time of need, though amidst these rowdy folk, voices had to be raised to even hold a conversation. If this was the Grand Festival, people would have been speaking in hushed whispers to not disturb each other or the coordinators about to have one of the most important performances of their careers.

"Some brute from Orre." When Cassandra spoke the word, she did so wrinkling her nose. They had all heard the stories swirling around such a place: a land without laws where encountering death was something one had to grow up with. Temperance would have nodded along and grimaced as well, once. "Hamili, I think."

"Ammar's his first name," Ronaldo corrected. "I've heard nothing but bad things about him and his... tactics."

"Sorry, but I'd rather trust a ten-year-old aspirant trainer than you when it comes to gathering info on trainers," Cassandra said with a laugh—though Temperance figured Ronaldo hadn't heard due to all the noise. She was well-positioned to catch every word that was said in the center.

The coordinator felt a pull on the sleeve of her blouse and turned toward Amber, who had sat down next to her. "Yes?" she asked. In the corner of her mind, she imagined Cecilia tilting her head to the side to the point where Temperance feared for the structural integrity of her bones. She'd picked that up from her slightly. "Is something wrong, Ambs?" She could already see it on her face, but she figured she might as well ask. People were more likely to answer that way.

Amber was new and a nervous little thing. They'd met through a mutual friend a month back at one of the endless Hearthome fundraisers, and she had quickly proven herself to be able to stand among Temperance's closest confidants, be it through social acumen or her skills at contests. Not in participating in them, per se—she had no Pokemon of her own—but in analyzing them and knowing the ins and outs of how Type Energy functioned. It wasn't often that Temperance herself learned something new through someone other than herself. No matter what, however, Amber still couldn't be herself in front of her. She was more real than most, which was why she had even been invited here for the month in the first place, but none of them were their true selves to a fault. Even if they had to tell Temperance off, call her names, or just say no to what she asked, sometimes, they only rarely did so. None of them could be like her.

"You know what, never mind," Amber said. "I guess I'm a little nauseous. There are so many people around and you know how I get about violence." She twirled with a strand of her hair and pulled her other hand away.

"Close your eyes if you need to. And you know, there's no shame in leaving if it really gets to you." Temperance watched Amber nervously smile and adjust her position on the admittedly uncomfortable chair. To be heard better, the coordinator leaned in for a second, and Amber flinched. "Want water?" She turned toward her other friends who were engrossed in a shouting conversation about Orre. "I think Kael has some bottles—"

"I'm fine! Uh, yeah. I'll just close my eyes, I guess."

Temperance raised a finger. "But don't forget to tell us if something's wrong. The last thing I want is for you to be that uncomfortable. Cece would understand."

The conversation ended there, and the coordinator refocused toward the door. The crowd was slowly ramping up as the minutes ticked by, still feral despite the fact that there had been a battle here just thirty minutes ago. The battlefield itself was nearly finished being fixed up by an array of Pokemon. Hippopotas and their evolution for the soil and mud, Gulpin and Bibarel to set up for what appeared to be a torrent of poisonous water, Kadabra to move large chunks of rock and Mr. Mime to reinforce the barrier. The last battle had been on a battlefield dotted with island floating with residual psychic energy high above an icy, ethereal lake, and this one... looked like it was going to be a poisonous swamp of some kind. Often, some of these arenas were boring, only being meadows or deserts et cetera, but the League knew how to play ball sometimes.

"...talk about Ammar's violence, but Cecilia didn't seem that phased by it at all when she studied him," Cassandra said, though Temperance hadn't heard the start of that sentence.

"She's seen her fair share of violence. Her face isn't like that for nothing," Ronaldo spoke so quietly Temperance was surprised she caught it. "Poor girl's been through a lot."

If only they knew the half of it, Temperance thought. Not that she knew much either besides the information available to the public. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs before flicking a piece of dust on her shorts. How long had that been here? Had people noticed? She—

Needed to calm down. No one was looking at her—besides Ambs. This was no performance.

Cecilia had always been cold and closed off. She'd gotten better about it, yes. One day, she had come back from some unknown conversation with her friend Chase Karlson and suddenly apologized and they'd had a long talk about boundaries and what was okay and what was not. While Temperance hadn't known it at the time, it had been a welcome change and she wouldn't go back for any reason. It had made what felt like an attraction-based fling turn into a genuine relationship, and she knew now that they would never have lasted this long otherwise.

Yet even still, Temperance felt like there was part of her girlfriend she could never access—the true weakness within. Slowly, painstakingly, Temperance had peeled away at her like the layers of an onion, but the more she progressed, the more it felt like so much of her was hidden away.

And most of it was because of Grace Pastel and what she'd done to her. How the cheating destroyed Cecilia and crushed what remained of her confidence and self-love to a pulp.

But slowly, she was getting closer. Slowly.

"You seem deep in thought," Amber noticed.

Temperance stayed unmoving from her seat. "Oh, it's nothing. I was just thinking about Cecilia and—"

She could not find it within herself to finish that sentence, nor would it have mattered anyway. A cacophonous applause erupted from all around the stands as the announcer began to speak and introduce the two trainers to the crowd. Temperance despised how unrefined she was being, but it would do for this bunch of trainers.

"...side, the wild and brutal trainer from the untamed lands of Orre, Ammar Hamili!" Her voice rang sharp and loudly across the stadium. "Ammar's no stranger to high stakes and crowds; he learned the ways of battling in their colosseums, and he's come to the other side of the world to give us a show, so give him a huge round of applause!"

Somehow, the crowd got louder. Ammar might not have been a frontrunner, but from the way Cecilia had talked about him, most people despised him.

Oh. She'd thought the crowd was getting louder, but it had done so with boos.

"Or boo him, I guess," the announcer said.

They hated him because he was the only one actively trying to cripple his opponents through violence and maiming, making sure they'd be in the Center for longer to narrow down trainers' options in their future battles even with the best care available, and the few who had attempted to fight fire with fire had just been worse than him. Even Grace Pastel, the other trainer associated with such tactics, was not expected to go that far.

Temperance was realizing she knew way too much about trainers these days, but unfortunately, Cecilia seemed to enjoy speaking about them. Ammar was already up on his platform, unbothered by the noxious swamp the League had created. He was a confident-looking man with sun-kissed skin, dark stubble, and a constant, smug look on his face that made you want to hate him from the get-go. His arms and face were dotted with scars, some shallow, some deep.

He was also frustratingly attractive, with the way his plain shirt was unbuttoned. Ugh. Like he could ruin her life if he wanted.

"On the other side of the battlefield, we have our famous Unovan! A rising star who's gotten eight badges in her first year, who's helped Sinnoh beat the scourge that was Team Galactic in her time of need despite being a stranger to these lands, I give you... Cecilia Obel!"

This time, they cheered, and loudly. Cece was wearing a fitted sky-blue tunic with a high neckline and a subtle gradient that faded to white near the hem, the fabric soft and flowing enough to move with her but still practical. Her leggings were a sleek silver-gray, hugging her form and catching the light faintly with a metallic sheen that hinted at elegance without being overdone. On her feet, she donned slightly white sneakers with a hint of wear, the kind you'd expect from someone who spent a lot of time on the go.

It was a starkly different look than her usual, one but it was what she needed to embody the theme of this battle, and it would have nothing to do with poison.

The referee announced the rules—no killing, three-on-three with one switch, et cetera, et cetera, and Temperance found herself squeezing the side of her chair. Both trainers had already locked in their first choice before the battle, so it did not matter who sent out their Pokemon first; they both had the same amount of time. Ammar did so, releasing his mighty Fearow. The bird erupted from the Pokeball with a sharp cry, its voice cutting through the air like a blade. Its faded feathers were a patchwork of battle-worn plumage. The crimson crest atop its head was jagged, no longer smooth, with small nicks and missing tufts that told stories of vicious clashes. Its beak, long and sharp, bore faint scratches and a slight curve at the tip as if it had been blunted and reforged by countless strikes.

It hovered there, each flap of its massive wings a testament to its strength and sending blasts of wind below the flying type that might as well have been Gusts on their own. Smart to release a flying type when stepping in the poison would slowly diminish a Pokemon's strength. Cecilia's Pokeball had already been in the air—yes, she threw it just like old timers did—looking at the bird with unabashed awe in her blank eyes and a smile that looked like it belonged to a little girl. Good. It was not so much as being in character as it was understanding that Fearow encapsulated the theme of her play. Cece had also always loved the power that came through raw strength.

And it was also about having a good time.

Scizor would be the first. He appeared amidst the swamp, ankle-deep in one of the shallower parts of the water and unharmed by its poison or fumes even as they slid off his gleaming red plates of armor. Temperance knew that within one of his pincers was a Flying Gem ready to be used.

The referee's arm bore down, and the stadium immediately went quiet.

"Do your thing, Fearow," Ammar lazily ordered in a thick accent before following with a series of whistles. His nonchalant tone betrayed him—Temperance knew focused eyes when she saw them. It was a front to frustrate his opponent, but he was taking her seriously, just as he would every trainer facing him.

Fearow croaked, each movement of its mighty, scarred wings kicking up more and more poison, and dove toward Scizor. The bird was not fast so much as it was mighty. It was like looking at a freight truck barrel at you on a road. There was a sudden sense of inevitableness that made you want to freeze up.

Cecilia took a deep breath and lifted up a hand, her movements smooth like the wind. "Scizor steps forward in a dance."

It would be Swords Dance; it would be Agility—but that was not what Temperance was focused on.

Her voice accomplished three things. One, its tone screamed narration, somehow being fast enough to fit the rhythm of battle, but slow enough for the audience to parse and relish every word; two it was loud—louder than Cecilia had ever used to speak and it overwhelmed the ears and made people focus on her and commanded attention with an almost magnetic pull, every syllable sharp and deliberate, like the cracking of a whip; three—and perhaps it was a little too early for this—it carried an undeniable sense of purpose, as though her voice alone was an instrument in the battle itself.

Scizor moved graciously through the muk; his wings buzzed and he danced, each movement a deliberate motion to make him move faster and faster as his edges sharpened and dripped with a metallic gleam that seemed almost alive. "Each step builds momentum," Cecilia continued, her voice rising in tempo to match Scizor's accelerating movements. "His edges gleam, sharper than a blade, preparing to strike with unmatched precision—"

Just in time, she finished. Fearow descended from the sky like a thunderbolt, a streak of brown and cream against the air. Its wings stretched wide, each feather sharp and bristling with power, cutting through the air with a forceful whoosh that made the crowd instinctively flinch. The bird's talons gleamed with a wicked power—it screeched when Scizor slashed across its legs, but it did not relent and grabbed him by the shoulders, carrying him up into the air. Scizor struggled, but Fearow's grip was ironclad, and beams of light erupted from his body powerful enough to burn the winged beast's plumage. His wings flared with Bug Buzz until Fearow repositioned its grip and tore half of them apart.

She was going to try to see her not because she wanted to confront her, but because she wanted to understand how that girl had captured Cecilia's heart and still owned it to this day; she might have told Temperance to stop pretending to be Grace, but Temperance was certain she still thought of her during their nights together—and by the Legendaries, that was frustrating now that she'd gotten a taste of Cece's true affection. With how famous Grace was, it'd be easy to keep track of her whereabouts online.

Really, she just wanted to observe.

It would be alone, of course. She would not subject Cecilia to such torment.

"Cassandra, do me a favor, will you?"

—

The battlefield before Maylene shimmered with gold. No, it was gold. She'd never seen this Pokemon before—Gholdengo, it was called. It looked quite cheerful for a ghost, even if everything it touched turned to solid gold. A flurry of vines shot out from Angel, whipping through the air with precision as they sought to ensnare Gholdengo. The golden figure dodged with an almost whimsical ease, its body turning to shining ribbons as it weaved between each appendage. Spores and the power of the sun exploded from their tips, and Gholdengo let out a pained metallic chime before the golden ribbons reformed atop a rock it had also twisted in its image. From its perch, Gholdengo raised its thumb, flicking a coin with casual ease. The small, gleaming piece tore through the air, breaking the sound barrier with a deafening crack before slamming deep into Angel's hide. The impact left a jagged, golden wound, and Angel staggered, his vines momentarily faltering in tandem with the ghost's laugh.

"Yeah, it's over," Nia whispered beside Maylene. "Surprised she didn't bring out Tyranitar—not that it would have made a difference."

"She's having fun," Maylene grouched.

She still couldn't help but grind her teeth. It wasn't a battle Grace had come in expecting to win, given she was fighting Jamie Pearce. Already, she'd lost her Electivire and Claydol in this fight and had made use of her one switch while Pearce still had his Gholdengo raring to go with a bunch of unknown Pokemon from Galar and Paldea in his pocket. Even then, Grace looked like she was having the time of her life. She was playing Intrepid Explorer this time—hell, she'd even bought the cutest costume, hat and all—and of course, she was decked out in a Poketch Watch and their logo on her back and front.

Gholdengo had been a happy little accident in that regard; now she could pretend she'd come here to loot and use the ghost for her own greed.

A fun story that would end with a human's hubris defeated, Maylene supposed. It wasn't the end of the world. This was only her first battle; she'd just been unlucky to draw Pearce first.

Candice shrugged. "She put up a good fight! Aubri's gonna have her work cut out for her if she wants to win," she nonchalantly chimed in. "Who do you think takes it between the two of 'em, Nia?"

"Pfft, could go either way." The grass type Gym Leader leaned in as Tangrowth this time took a flurry of golden coins. Nearly all of his body was covered in a thick, golden crust, now.

"Solar Blade! I'm not leaving without any treasure!" Grace clamored with a stomp.

Light shimmered through the gold, and Angel exploded with light, his vines glowing with a radiant green as he surged upward. He pushed himself off the ground, his hulking mass surprisingly agile, dodging a well-timed Shadow Ball that swept low, kicking up a cloud of golden dust where it struck. The attack had been aimed to pin him down, but Angel wasn't ready to be outmaneuvered again.

His vines shot outward in all directions, still seeking purchase. The golden terrain beneath him, reshaped by Gholdengo's touch, gave no grip, but Angel found his anchor in the twisted remnants of a once-tall tree now frozen in gold. Using the leverage, he swung himself forward, closing the distance with the elusive steel-ghost. Like a bolas, he threw a pair of vines that caught Pearce and his Pokemon off-guard. It wrapped itself around the ghost and tightened with swirling darkness. Gholdengo turned them to gold within the second, but the time bought had been enough for a Knock Off to slam on the steel type's head.

"Fun's over," Nia said.

Pearce calmly ordered a Metal Sound that made Angel and all of the spectators wince. The grass type recovered just in time to have a point-blank Flash Cannon delivered in his gut, and he fell a pile of smoldering vines and gold.

"Tangrowth is unable to battle!" the referee bellowed. "Victory to Jamie Pearce!"

The three Gym Leaders were on their way out as soon as the cheers ended. Grace would need to give her Pokemon to one of the nurse teams waiting in the stadium for her Pokemon to receive the best care available, given her next fight would be in a couple of hours. Sometimes, it wasn't fast enough. The system was unfair, but some said it allowed for further strategizing. Either way, with the way the tournament was organized, they didn't have much of a choice; even if the Conference lasted a month, the group stages were weeks of non-stop battling for every participant. Sinnoh had chosen to create a gauntlet both mental and physical for its trainers and Pokemon instead of the many alternatives available.

Even as Gym Leaders, they weren't allowed in the trainer holding room; they had to wait for Grace to come out instead. She was sweaty, still riding the high from that fight despite the fact that she'd gotten utterly crushed. Luckily for them, she wasn't getting swarmed, just nodding and greeting the people who had come along as fans to cheer for her. Maylene had seen a few of them wearing her merch. Her other friends—Denzel, Emilia, and Pauline—had found her first, it seemed. Marley was preparing for her own fight, and Lauren's group had been going on for days, with Mira going to every single fight.

"Guys! That Gholdengo was crazy, weren't they? I thought he'd bring out someone else, but it played so perfectly! And I learned a lot!" Grace blurted out as soon as she was within earshot. "It's unfortunate that he doesn't have many videos of his battles out! I bet I could take Gholdengo down if I had another try—"

"Relax, okay?" Gardenia said, patting her on the shoulder. "You've got another one coming in a few hours, so you've got to calm down and rest your mind."

Denzel scratched the back of his head and glanced between Candice and Nia. He must not have been used to hanging out with them still, even if they'd met a few times during the Conference already. "Heard a lot of stuff about that. Lots of horror stories about people throwing or not having the right Pokemon ready for a fight."

"Sheesh. Sounds terrible..." Emi muttered. Grace had said there was something off about her.

"Oh yeah, the group stages gave me a headache." Candice gripped her forehead as if she could recall the exact pain. "I was fried by the end and lost a bunch of fights I could have won. Luckily I'd won enough by that time that it didn't matter."

Grace flexed her non-existent muscles—okay, maybe that was too mean—and puffed out her chest. "I can... probably take it. I'm excited!" She turned toward Maylene. "Maymay, what'd you think?"

Grace looked at her with those yearning, Lillipup eyes she always made, and Maylene couldn't help but adjust her collar. "You were awesome, obviously. And Cass has been improving so much I'm surprised at how well they did."

Grace kissed Maylene on the cheek; her heart felt warm and her stomach fuzzy. "Tell them when they're out of the Center; it'll make their day coming from someone else. They're already too used to compliments from me."

"I'll tell them too!" Candice cheered. "Should we go and eat lunch or what? Double date?"

"Candice, please don't be so exclusionary." Gardenia pulled her back to reality and shook her head with a silent sigh. Then, she leaned in and whispered, "plus, Cynth called us over. I think she needs help with community outreach or something like that." No one but Maylene had caught that, though she already knew about this. "You kids feel free to hang out together—"

"I was thinking, we could go the two of us, right?" Grace asked. "Unless it bothers you guys."

"You go ahead and have fun, gremlin. I'll hold down the fort." Pauline gave her a thumbs-up.

"Uh, right," Maylene said. "It's pizza today, right?"

"Legendaries, you'll love it," Candice yelled a little too loudly.

Nia spoke up. "To be honest, I don't really see why people like it so much—"

"Don't listen to her; she's a deviant!" Candice cut in.

Pauline blinked, and something on her face shattered. She nearly gasped. "Wait, she doesn't enjoy pizza—"

"I just think it's not the best thing in the world."

The conversation continued for a few minutes until the group dispersed. There was still a little ball of nervousness in Maylene's stomach at the thought of eating something that deviated from the norm, and her throat desperately tried to get her to say no, but then she stared at Grace and saw her take off her silly little hat and wipe the sweat off her brow before she realized Maylene had been looking at her, and she beamed like the sun.

Everything was so wonderful with her.

There was just—

Just the guilt. Hidden so deep within that even her girlfriend couldn't wrestle that out of her. It was a terrible, terrible thing she'd done, and while Maylene would never give up Grace for anything in the world, it still hurt to think about Cecilia. She'd helped Maylene with her father and her Gym so much, and what had she gotten for it? Nothing. Worse than nothing. A broken heart.

Grace grabbed Maylene's hand, and they made their way toward a Kalosian pizza place up in the hills.

Maylene had told Grace that anything they could both tell Cecilia right now would most likely just make things worse. The Unovan most likely did not want an apology or for Maylene to grovel at her feet, but that left a bad taste in the Gym Leader's mouth. She shielded her eyes from the morning sun and rolled her shoulders—Grace was looking right at her. Don't freeze. Keep walking. Look at her and smile. Her girlfriend sheathed the daggers that were her eyes, and they softened within a second.

Arceus, she was perceptive.

But no. Maylene was not going to see Grace's ex, especially without informing her first. It would be incredibly stupid of her to create drama, even if she was being selfish. After all, had Grace not stood there and taken her... comeuppance, she had called it?

So why?

Why in the world was Temperance in the restaurant when they arrived?