Borne of Caution (Pokemon Isekai)

[Protosoul]

Given the physical/special divide and how obscenely tanky Blissey is to special attacks, ironically Sceptile is a better choice than Ninetails regardless.

 

[Reman Septim]

Given the physical/special divide and how obscenely tanky Blissey is to special attacks, ironically Sceptile is a better choice than Ninetails regardless.

Click to shrink...

Blissey can facetank a Focus Blast but not a well-placed Brick Break.

 

[CMDR Dantae]

Norman planned this quite well.

Even if he loses, after putting off a fairly even fight against two of the toughest trainers around, he's gonna get a boost to his reputation.

With how well Slaking has been putting pressure on Sceptile and Marshtomp even with Blissey practically half-asleep, people are gonna be afraid of this guy.

Sceptile was already strong enough to face Pokémon approaching Elite Four tier before he evolved, and with how much stronger he grew in the Dragon Crater, I imagine most trainers watching are slightly scared by the fact they could not see Sceptile when he was moving, and that Slaking managed to grab him anyway.

 

[Ryumancer]

Blissey can facetank a Focus Blast but not a well-placed Brick Break.

Click to shrink...

Tbf, they can sometimes facetank that, too. They may have almost no Defense, but the sheer quantity of HP they have, combined with Recover or Softboiled? It's not a position they like to be in, but it sometimes works, if you're just waiting for Poison or Burn to finish your opponent off. Naturally, you'll be stuck healing yourself every turn, so you can't actually KO such an opponent yourself, after all...

 

[Cyrus2]

If this fight is being televised, I would be curious to see Ash and the gangs reaction to Brendan and Lee's fight. Wonder how crazy his adventure is getting since he's taking training more seriously this time around.

 

[Silveraith]

If this fight is being televised, I would be curious to see Ash and the gangs reaction to Brendan and Lee's fight. Wonder how crazy his adventure is getting since he's taking training more seriously this time around.

Click to shrink...

All official League gym battles are recorded and streamed, it was stated earlier it acts as a source of ad revenue and documentation for officials.

Professor Birch even watched the video of Ninetales vs Typlosion at the Fire-type gym.

 

[Fuggmann]

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---

With every step the crazed Slaking takes, the ground under his feet craters, fragmenting under just the force of him running. In only a second, he's on top of Sceptile and Marshtomp.

"Move!" both Lee and Brendan cry at once.

Sceptile darts to the side, snagging Marshtomp's arm and dragging the smaller pokemon along, and in just the nick of time, as the fist of Norman's pokemon collides where they stood like a meteor.

KRA-BOOM!

'Arceus!' Lee curses to himself as he nearly loses his footing.

Screams run through the spectators as the entire gym shakes under the force of the missed blow, as if Slaking used Earthquake rather than a punch. The plume of dirt that explodes out fills the inside of the barrier with dust instantly, obscuring all of the pokemon within.

Once the sediment begins to settle, Lee is treated to the sight of Slaking's entire fist buried in the ground, and when he pulls it free, the gym's shattered concrete foundation follows.

'Moore wasn't joking when he said Norman was dangerous to underestimate,' Lee thinks to himself, wiping a bead of nervous sweat from his brow. 'A single hit is game over.'

Slaking turns on a heel, bloodshot eyes locking onto a narrow-eyed Sceptile and gaping Marshtomp. With a snort that shoots actual steam from his nostrils, Slaking rears his fist back, tensing for another titanic charge.

"Lee "

Lee's attention shifts to Brendan, who is taking in the suddenly turned tables with a pensive face. "Let me and Marshtomp be the distractions," he says, looking away from the arena for only a moment to meet Lee's eyes. "Sceptile should come at him from behind. The stronger pokemon needs to last if we're going to win."

"Let it never be said that Brendan Birch isn't a team player," Lee says lightly. "Sceptile! Extreme Speed!

"Marshtomp, Mega Punch!"

Both pokemon move, already understanding their roles.

From the front, Brendan's mudfish charges Slaking without so much as an ounce of fear. No, if anything, he's eager, with a grin and his own crackling fist drawn back to meet Slaking head-on.

Sceptile, meanwhile, vanishes from sight with only a swirl of dust around his feet to signal it.

The collision in the center of the ring is like watching a freight train hit a compact car.

Marshtomp's fist meets Slaking's massive knuckles with a thunderous CRACK that reverberates through the arena. For one impossible moment, the mudfish pokemon actually holds his ground, his feet digging trenches in the packed earth as he strains against the titanic force pressing down on him.

Then physics reasserts itself. Violently.

Marshtomp is launched backward like a cannonball, tumbling end over end before catching himself with a desperate Water Gun blast that arrests his momentum just short of the barrier wall. He lands hard on one knee, his right arm hanging limp and visibly swollen, drawing a wave of sympathetic "Oooooh"s from the crowd.

At that exact moment, Sceptile materializes behind Slaking as if he teleported, his regenerated Siphon Blade singing through the air towards the great ape's spine.

The strike connects with a wet thunk, but instead of the deep gouge Lee expected, the blade barely penetrates Slaking's hide. It's as if the energy from Blissy's Golden Egg has turned his skin into living armor.

"Damn," Lee mutters, watching Sceptile leap back as Slaking spins around with a backhand that could cave in a skull.

Across the arena, Norman's expression is as grim as it is determined. "Slaking, ignore the Sceptile. Finish Marshtomp first!"

The tactical logic is both sound and ruthless, drawing a grimace from Lee. Take out the wounded pokemon, then deal with the faster threat without distractions.

Slaking's bloodshot eyes lock onto the struggling Marshtomp, and he charges forward with earth-shaking steps.

"Brendan!" Lee calls out in warning.

"I see him!" Brendan's voice is tight with concentration. "Marshtomp, Bulldoze! Make him work for it!"

Marshtomp slams his good fist into the ground, sending a rolling wave of fractured earth toward Slaking. The massive pokemon simply plows through it, concrete chunks bouncing harmlessly off his reinforced hide.

"Mud Slap! Blind him!"

A spray of thick mud catches Slaking across the eyes, and for a moment he stumbles, pawing at his face. Marshtomp uses the opening to roll aside as another devastating punch craters the ground where he'd been standing.

But it's clear that every exchange is taking its toll. Marshtomp's breathing is labored, his movements just a fraction slower than before. Slaking, meanwhile, seems to be getting stronger, the Golden Egg's effects pushing his already monstrous capabilities to their absolute limit.

"Water Gun, rapid fire!" Brendan orders desperately.

Marshtomp unleashes a barrage of pressurized blasts, each one precise and powerful enough to dent steel. They splash harmlessly against Slaking's advance, the buffed pokemon simply eating the hits as he closes the distance like a tank with a nitrous kit.

Lee watches the one-sided exchange with growing dread. 'This isn't working. Brendan's running out of options, and Marshtomp can't keep this up much longer.'

Could Sceptile manage Slaking alone? Lee has nothing but faith in his green-clad speedster, but Marshtomp's strikes could make a Salamence flinch. Slaking taking the hit and overpowering Brendan's starter isn't good news. For all his ability, Sceptile isn't durable enough for a slugfest, and Slaking only needs to land one good hit to flip the odds.

Lee's mind races as he watches Marshtomp struggle against the relentless assault.

A Crush Claw nearly takes off Marshtomp's head, nicking one of his fins.

A barely-redirected Mega Punch skips off the barrier with a sound like a gong, making the Alakazam keeping the shield up wince.

A Body Press leaves a gaping crater in the floor, one where Marshtomp is nearly flattened.

All the while, Sceptile is darting in and out with furrowed brows. Every slash from Siphon Blade opens a new weeping wound on Slaking, with the ape only bothering to protect his face and his joints, and even those moments last only milliseconds.

'Sceptile's attacks are landing, but they're not doing enough damage fast enough.' Lee glances at Brendan, who is shouting into the arena, trying every trick he can to keep his pokemon up and conscious. 'At this rate, Marshtomp goes down, and then it's a one-on-one.'

His eyes flick between the combatants, calculating angles and possibilities. Slaking's defense has clearly spiked along with his offense. Whatever that Golden Egg did, it turned him into a walking fortress.

'I need to force Norman's hand with a cannon that fortress walls can't handle, make him choose between finishing Marshtomp or dealing with a threat he can't ignore.'

"Sceptile!" Lee calls out, his voice cutting through the din of battle. "Solar Beam! Maximum charge!"

Sceptile's head snaps toward him, yellow eyes widening slightly in surprise. It's a risky move, and Lee can see the question in Sceptile's eyes.

Solar Beam requires time and focus, leaving the user vulnerable, but if any attack can force Norman to change priorities, it has to be the only move that plays second fiddle to Frenzy Plant.

The grass-type breaks off from his hit-and-run tactics, putting significant distance between himself and the melee. He plants his feet, tilts his head back, and takes a deep, measured breath. The sunlight streaming through the arena's windows seems to bend toward him once more, gathering at the tips of his tail spines and flowing up his back in an ever-brightening golden stripe.

Lee watches Norman's face, waiting for the inevitable order to redirect Slaking's attention. Solar Beam is widely considered to be on par with Hyper Beam in the right hands. No sane trainer would let their pokemon take a hit like that.

But… The order never comes. Norman remains focused on Marshtomp's increasingly desperate evasions. "Slaking, keep the pressure on Marshtomp! Don't let up!" he calls.

'What?' Lee's brow furrows in confusion. 'Why isn't he…? Solar Beam could end the fight if it lands! Why ignore it?'

A few unspoken ideas roll in his head, a few idly flowing in from Ninetales, but it doesn't make sense.

The light gathering around Sceptile intensifies, becoming almost painful to look at directly. Marshtomp rolls away from another crater-making punch, his movements noticeably sluggish now. The mudfish pokemon is running on fumes.

Sceptile's charging reaches its crescendo after the longest ten seconds of Lee's life, the collected solar energy humming through the gecko pokemon's body and lighting him up from within. He lowers his head, the brilliant light shifting to his mouth in a rolling, molten orb, and Lee can see his pokemon's lips blister a little with the sun's fury floating between them.

That's when Norman's lips curl into the faintest of smiles.

"Good thing Slaking's alone in the arena, since it's rude to hit teammates," the gym leader remarks casually. "Slaking! Blizzard!"

All of a sudden, Norman delaying his response makes sense. Lee's jaw drops, and from the corner of his eye, he sees Brendan cursing under his breath.

'Fuck me.'

Sceptile's Solar Beam erupts from his mouth as a golden lance, speeding towards its target. At that same instant, the great ape's arm fur glitters with newly-formed ice crystals, and when he throws his arms in a circle, a howling whiteout explodes outward to meet the beam.

Solar Beam slams into the heart of Blizzard like a red-hot spear thrust into a frozen lake, the wind and frost as dense as solid ice. For a heartbeat, the two attacks war against each other in the center of the arena. Molten light wrestling with crystalline death in a maelstrom of steam and prismatic reflections.

But Solar Beam, for all its heat and power, is a beam of Grass TE trying to overpower a tempest of Ice TE.

The golden beam begins to waver, its coherence fractured by the chaotic winds. Ice crystals slice through the light like razors, weakening it, destabilizing it, until the whole beam detonates.

The explosion sends a shockwave through the arena that rattles teeth and stops hearts. Sceptile's eyes go wide as his own attack turns against him, and he throws himself backward out of the blast zone, Siphon Blade extending to slash away the following razor-sharp ice shards that chase him like seeking missiles. He lands hard against the far barrier wall, steam rising from his scales as the bitter cold gnaws at him even from this distance.

Marshtomp, caught mere feet from the epicenter of the arctic maelstrom, has nowhere to run.

The Water pokemon's bellow of agony is cut short as the supernatural cold washes over him and saps even the will to cry out. Frost spreads across his blue hide in seconds, creeping over his fins, his arms, his face. His movements slow, then stop entirely as ice locks his joints in place. Within moments, he's encased in a shell of glittering crystal, frozen solid and helpless.

"Marshtomp!" Brendan's voice cracks with horror.

Slaking drops the Blizzard with a satisfied grunt, the vortex gradually dissipating to reveal snow and hoarfrost on every surface of the arena. Without hesitation, he draws back one massive fist, energy crackling around his knuckles.

"Mega Punch!"

The blow connects with the sound of breaking glass. Marshtomp's icy prison shatters into a thousand fragments as the massive fist smashes into his stomach, making his eyes bug out.

Slaking then twists, carrying Marshtomp with the blow in a half-circle, then slams his smaller foe into the transparent barrier wall, pinning him there with his knuckles.

Another round of exclamations rolls through the stands as Marshtomp slumps over the sternum-sized hand keeping him aloft.

Beside Lee, Brendan falls to his knees. Shock, dismay, and a hundred and one other emotions flying over his face.

Marshtomp coughs weakly, a wet, rattling sound that sends droplets of blood spattering against Slaking's arm. His body trembles just from the effort of staying conscious, every breath a monumental struggle with his no-doubt powdered ribs.

Lee sighs. 'Damn it all. Sorry, Brendan. I think Marshtomp is about to be smoked.' Outwardly, he prepares for a one-on-one and says: "Sceptile, Synthesis!"

Lowering his pale arms, Sceptile shuts his eyes, glowing faintly as the sunlight streaming in through the windows starts to chase away the painful chill in his bones.

On the other side of the arena, Slaking begins to withdraw his massive fist, clearly satisfied that his opponent is finished. As his knuckles start to pull away from the wall, though, Marshtomp's hand shoots out, frost-bitten fingers wrapping around the great ape's thick wrist in an iron grip.

The mudfish pokemon's head tilts up, one eye swollen shut, the other blazing through a curtain of blood streaming from a split in his scalp. His grip tightens, refusing to let go even as his arm shakes with the effort.

Slaking looks down at the smaller pokemon with an expression that, to Lee, seems equal parts annoyance and grudging respect. With a low rumble, Norman's ace draws back his free fist, energy crackling around the knuckles as he prepares to finally turn this two-on-one into something more fair.

The massive fist falls like a sledgehammer.

Marshtomp's other hand flies up at the last possible second, palm meeting Slaking's knuckles with a resounding CRACK that echoes through the suddenly silent arena. The tremendous blow stops dead, caught by a pokemon a fraction of Slaking's size and weight.

'No way…' Lee's eyes widen, both itching a little as Ninetales intently watches through them. 'Brendan, I think you're about to be a damn happy kid.'

He's proven right when Marshtomp begins to glow.

The light starts as a faint shimmer around his battered form, but quickly intensifies into a brilliant white that forces spectators to shield their eyes. His body contorts and stretches within the cocoon of energy, muscles expanding, bones lengthening, his very essence reshaping itself. The glow pulses like a heartbeat, each flash brighter than the last, until the entire arena is bathed in the shine.

Brendan's expression transforms in an instant, dismay melting away into explosive joy. "Yes! YES! You did it, buddy!" He leaps back to his feet, both fists in the air.

Lee exhales a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, tension bleeding from his shoulders. 'Talk about perfect timing.'

The shape inside the white light grows larger, and larger, and yet larger still, and when it fades, where Marshtomp once struggled stands a towering, snarling Swampert.

The amphibian pokemon is unearthly. Marshtomp was already a bundle of muscle that could swim, but Swampert takes everything his old body had and dials it to eleven. Blue skin is stretched taut over dense, coiled muscle, appearing so tight that it looks as if his hide would split open if he flexed with too much enthusiasm.

His stature, likewise, is out of this world. Marshtomp stood head and shoulders over other examples of his species at three and a half feet tall, and he has more than doubled in height. If Lee's eye is correct, then even with his species' semi-four legged slouch, Swampert has to be seven feet tall, minimum.

Without warning, Swampert's arm pistons forward in a simple, unenhanced punch that catches Slaking square in the jaw. The impact reverberates through the arena like a thunderclap, and for the first time since Blissey powered him up, Norman's ace staggers backward, shaking his head to clear the stars in his vision.

Freed from the pin, Swampert rolls his shoulders, then looks down at his hands, flexing the unfamiliar digits that greet his eyes.

Then he clenches them into fists, draws in a deep breath that makes his chest expand, and throws back his head with a roar.

The sound is primal, violent, a challenge that seems to come from the very depths of the earth itself. The sheer force of it kicks up a gale that sends dirt and melting snow swirling through the arena, and the psychic barriers flare a translucent pink as they strain to contain the acoustic assault. Several spectators in the front rows clap their hands over their ears, wincing at the volume.

Brendan, though?

From the look on his face, Lee would say it's the most beautiful sound the kid has ever heard.

Brendan only allows himself to admire his freshly evolved friend for a second, then he shakes off most of his excitement, though the grin plastered across his face refuses to budge. He turns to Lee, eyes bright with renewed confidence. "Plan's unchanged," he says, voice steady despite his obvious elation. "Let Swampert take the big guy head-on. Sceptile can angle for something nasty while they're locked up."

Lee's answering smile is sharp with anticipation. "Couldn't agree more."

Oh, he can already feel that badge in hand.

"Swampert!" Brendan calls out, his voice cracking a bit with his enthusiasm. "Show him what you're made of! Close quarters combat!"

"Sceptile," Lee adds, "Siphon Blade, don't let him rest!"

Across the arena, Norman looks absolutely poleaxed by the sudden reversal of fortune. To his credit, the gym leader shakes off his shock in seconds, his jaw set.

"Slaking! Engage! Don't let them dictate the pace!"

Swampert charges forward, bounding on his short, coiled legs, and Slaking rushes to meet him halfway.

Brendan's pokemon cocks back a white-knuckled fist like a spring-loaded hammer.

Norman's does the same, his teeth bared in a grimace.

Both strike, and Lee swears he sees sparks, not from any move, but from the air itself igniting under the force of the two pokemon's raw strength.

When their fists collide, an impact reverberates through the arena that makes the entire building groan. The psychic barriers flare again just from the shockwave.

Where Marshtomp struggled desperately against Slaking's overwhelming power, Swampert meets it pound for pound, blow for blow. Both fighters abandon any pretense of finesse, throwing haymakers that could demolish concrete walls. Each punch lands with the force of a wrecking ball and the sound of a cannon shot, making the dust and slush on the floor dance with each impact.

Swampert can't wipe the savage, wild grin off his face even if he tried. It doesn't matter how many times Slaking's massive fists find their mark, it doesn't matter how many purple bruises are blooming across his hide, he's giving as good as he gets and then some. Lee can only imagine that the intoxicating rush of newfound strength has the Water and Ground type deep in a special kind of high.

Swampert throws his head back, laughing a deep laugh as bloodthirsty as it is manic.

Slaking, by contrast, is furiously trying to keep pace, his eyes growing wider and teeth clenching harder with each exchange. Every blow from the freakishly powerful Swampert sends ripples through his whole body, and he can't help but wince as Swampert's knuckles find their mark again and again.

"Slaking, back off and re-!" Norman's order is lost in the dull boom of another punch connecting with Slaking's stomach.

There's no time for either combatant to break away and use proper techniques, and Norman's cries for Slaking to make distance mean nothing. All they can do is swing wildly, each trying to batter the other into submission through pure, overwhelming force.

But Slaking isn't just dealing with one opponent, as the rapidly multiplying slash wounds on his limbs and back give away.

Every time the great ape tries to turn and swat away the green blur harassing his flanks, he pays dearly for taking his eyes off Swampert. A devastating uppercut to the ribs, a cross that snaps his head sideways, a body blow that drives the air from his lungs in a whooshing gasp, all that and more each time he tries to stop the Grass-type tearing into him.

Sceptile is relentless, zipping in with Extreme Speed to open fresh wounds with Siphon Blade before vanishing like a ghost the instant retaliation looks like it's on its way. Each strike is precise, calculated, targeting joints, tendons, anywhere that will slow the mighty ape down.

Cut, cut, cut, cut! Red is pooling at Slaking's feet, dyeing the slush and mud a ruddy color.

Try as he might, Slaking's burst of energy is beginning to flag under the relentless two-pronged assault. His movements are growing just a fraction slower, his guard dropping incrementally lower with each passing second. The Life Orb glows brighter and brighter around Slaking's neck, pulling away all the limiters on the behemoth, but it's only delaying the inevitable.

Norman's ace is losing.

Sceptile flashes in again, his Siphon Blade finding its mark on the back of Slaking's right leg. The glowing leaf slices deep into Slaking's achilles tendon, and Lee watches with grim satisfaction as the great ape's leg simply gives out beneath him.

Slaking crashes to one knee with a pained grunt, his massive frame suddenly vulnerable and off-balance. The brief lull in the melee stretches for two precious seconds, long enough for Swampert to see his opening.

The amphibian rears back, his whole body coiling as he puts his entire seven-foot frame behind one final, bone-shattering punch. With yet another bellow, his fist flies forward with enough force to derail a train, connecting with Slaking's jaw in a blow that lifts the massive pokemon clean off the ground.

Slaking flies backward through the air, end over end, before crashing down in the center of the arena with an impact that sends cracks spider-webbing through the floor. Dust and mud explode outward from the point of impact, splattering on and running down the psychic walls.

For a moment, the great ape lies motionless. Then, incredibly, he begins to push himself up, his arms trembling with the effort. Blood streams from dozens of wounds, his eyes struggle to focus, but still, still, he forces himself back to one knee, swaying and punch-drunk.

The crowd erupts into absolute pandemonium. The entire arena is a wall of sound, spectators losing their minds at the incredible back-and-forth fight.

In the arena, Swampert approaches the wounded Slaking from the front while Sceptile circles around behind, both pokemon still tense and ready to jump to action the moment the word is given.

Slaking stares up at Swampert through blood and exhaustion, his expression a mixture of frustration and stubborn defiance. Even now, even broken and beaten, Norman's ace refuses to yield.

Swampert makes a deep, rumbling croak, almost conversational, as if to say no hard feelings. Then he raises both massive fists high above his head, fingers interlocked for a hammer strike.

"End it, Swampert!" Brendan's voice cuts through the noise.

The blow sends Slaking's skull bouncing off the cracked ground with a sickening thud, his eyes rolling back as consciousness finally abandons him. The mighty pokemon's body goes completely slack, his labored breathing the only sign he's still alive.

The referee steps forward on his chalk-line box, his voice mystified as he begins the count. "One! Two! Three!" He raises his hand with a flourish, voice only heard over the onlookers thanks to his microphone. "Slaking is unable to battle! The winners are challengers Brendan Birch and Lee Henson!"

The noise from the stands redoubles, cameras flashing. Lee can see Zinnia in the stands, on her feet and cheering wildly, her hands thrown high in the air as she screams herself hoarse.

They actually did it. Norman threw their plans in the trash, and they still won!

'See, love? Nothing to worry about. Sceptile and Swampert had it handled.' Lee smiles as the barrier around the battleground begins to fade.

The mental click of a non-tongue echoes in his head. 'I suppose…'

'We'll hit up an ice cream shop after this, both to celebrate the win and to make up for benching you. Fair trade?'

That makes the usually omni-present warmth from Ninetales begin to flow readily again. 'Very well, I will accept your bribe,' she replies with a sniff. 'Three scoops of peach and I will forget your transgressions… for today.'

'Lucian was right. We do sound domestic.'

Nine's love-laced giggles fade into the back of his mind as he and Brendan make their way to meet Norman in the utterly wrecked arena.

"You did it! You did it!" Brendan races ahead towards his giant starter, grin so wide it has to hurt. He does a flying leap into Swampert's open arms, and the two twirl around in a circle (or Swampert twirls around and Brendan is along for the ride), laughing in jittery, adrenaline-fueled joy like the kids they are.

"Do you want a hug, too?" Lee jokes as he steps up next to Sceptile.

The tall lizard just looks down at him with a flat expression, crossing his arms and shifting his chewing twig in his lips.

"Well, if you wanna be like that, fine." Lee mirrors Sceptiles crossed arms with a smile, looking at the nubs where Sceptile's back seeds were. "Hug or no hug, I'm so damn proud, Sceptile. You went in, messed up an Elite pokemon, and came out with barely a scratch. We'll rush-order some of that special Fallarbor kale, and I'll make a king-sized veg quiche for dinner tonight, all for you."

The prospect of a hearty meal after a big win? Now that has Sceptile smiling.

Norman quietly recalls Slaking with a flash of red light, his shoulders sagging slightly as the massive pokemon disappears. Lee and Brendan, with their pokemon at their sides, make their way across the crater-pocked arena to meet him in the center, stepping carefully around the worst of the damage.

When they converge, Norman looks genuinely exhausted, the kind of bone-deep tiredness that comes from watching a carefully laid plan crumble in real time. His smile, however, seems genuine as he extends a hand to each of them in turn.

"Congratulations, both of you," he says, his grip firm despite his fatigue. "That was one hell of a battle. You earned this win."

"Thanks." Brendan beams, practically bouncing on his toes.

Norman chuckles, then his expression grows more thoughtful. "I have to admit, I planned for days to face down your Ninetales and Latias," he says, gesturing between Lee and Brendan. "Even taught Slaking Blizzard and Surf specifically to try and exploit their typings."

Lee's mouth quirks into a dry smile. "We figured something like that was coming with the sudden format change. That's why we mixed up our team picks."

"Smart thinking." Norman nods, even if his smile grows uncertain. He glances around at the destroyed arena before leaning in, voice low. "I hope there's no hard feelings about the unexpected double battle format." His voice carries a note of concern. "I genuinely thought a straightforward challenge would have been too easy for trainers of your caliber..." He pauses, running a hand through his hair. "And on my end, if I was going to lose, I needed to make it an exciting, valiant loss for the bean counters upstairs."

Brendan waves it off immediately. "No worries! That was the most fun I've had in a battle in weeks!"

Lee stays quiet, not entirely sure how to respond. He understands that the Gym Leaders all have political pressures coming down from on high, and it sounds like Norman is feeling it keenly for some reason, but the setup still feels a tad unfair.

Norman seems to pick up on the reason behind his silence, but doesn't press. Instead, he turns toward the crowd and raises one hand high, gradually bringing the excited hollering and whooping down to a manageable roar.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Norman says, voice carrying clearly over the arena speakers, "today you witnessed something special. These two trainers and their pokemon stepped up to an unprecedented challenge like true professionals, proving they possess that rare balance of skill and power that defines a truly masterful trainer."

He turns back to Lee and Brendan, producing two gleaming badges from his jacket pocket. The Balance Badges catch the arena lights, their metallic surfaces reflecting tiny rainbows.

"Lee Henson, Brendan Birch," Norman says formally, "I present you with the Balance Badge, proof of your victory here today."

As Lee and Brendan take their badges and hold them high for the crowd, another thunderous round of cheers erupts from the stands, accompanied by a storm of camera flashes that turn the arena into a constellation of light.

The badge is small, but it's laden heavy with sweet, sweet achievement.

Five down, three to go.

---

Unbeknownst to most, a woman, her petite form wrapped in a fine kimono of pink silk, slips away from the Petalburg Gym arena with a delicate frown on her face.

"A bond I was shown, yet it wasn't the correct one…" she mutters to herself, stepping out onto the street.

All around her, foot traffic parts like water, yet not a single set of eyes acknowledges her, nor do a single set of ears hear her murmurs.

"Foolish kits, reaching directly into the fire simply because you find the light and the warmth captivating," she continues, with only herself to hear. "You will burn yourselves. I warned you that you would burn yourselves, yet you trundle on, insisting your paws feel not the heat."

Behind her, a paper cup discarded on the ground is blown away, as if caught in the wake of something agitated and unseen whipping about.

"Fine then," she huffs, casting a look over her shoulder to the Gym. "If you insist on playing such coy and childish games with me, then clearly needs must." She resumes her march.

"I shall test you myself."

---

Below are the names of some patrons who got to view this chapter early and felt like signing it. A huge thanks to them and everyone else who supports this story and everything else I write.

Spice_King, Honin, soup, BrokenOlive, Ultra-Anon, Dicloniuslord, Maestro, Nickerdoodle, ncskeeter56, Kacy Roush, Dingus, OmegaEntertainment, Aelias, GreenPhoenix, Ash The Kitsune, Meadow, GordianVapCat, Cat, puppy0cam, Moonlit Chaser, Wing Shot, demonmonkey89, drykeon, Bunny Waffles, Kaledux87, Adean23, Sinnohan, ShaRose, Fabhar, Latscry, Siphon Rayzar, MrPerson0, WiseKitsune, SparkzVultrix, IdiotRaiju/EmpressKoyan, Soah1086, Grey, Zany Old Coot, speedyzman13, Zazs31, Planetace, Papito12495, Moxie, Forever21Jeans, WhatAFungi, Nithalys, Rémi C., Berusella, IAmYourKingAndMaster, TitaniumPho3nix, Priam, Luc, Emeraldleafeon, Cynicals, MidnightJayguar, Bruv, Iskierka, Sketchbeard, Shrimperium, Deathkorpsofkrieg, King Eevee, Gleipnir

 

[Retigh]

Lykoko: Feh! Tease me will you?!
Lee: Lady, who even are you?

 

[The Radiance's Follower]

Finally. Another badge. Progress is being made.

 

[Vanbers]

Still holding out hope that Ninetales/Lee is more romantic than platonic, because god damn if they aren't a cute couple literally every time they appear.

 

[edk]

Still holding out hope that Ninetales/Lee is more romantic than platonic, because god damn if they aren't a cute couple literally every time they appear.

Click to shrink...

That's a spinoff isn't it? Never mind, just checked those scenes are in a separate snippet thread. Not canon though.

 

[Nolo]

Looks like Norman is not a sore loser, and I hope the bean counters actually get that the battle went as well as it could have gone.

 

[autobot314]

Lokoko wishes to test you! Fox only, no items, Final Destination!