Chapter 63
<strong>CHAPTER 63</strong>
<span style="font-weight:400">The cheers slowly subsided as I made my way to the side of the arena to pick up my prizes. I was so mentally exhausted I could barely walk straight, and my head was spinning. Gardenia looked shorter than she actually was, easily towering over me. She was taller than even Cece, who was the tallest girl in our group, and yet still, all she wore, even in this cold weather, were orange shorts and some sort of green drape that counted as a top. I stared up into her eyes who were so light brown they looked orange, and straightened myself. Gardenia was eighteen, only three years older than me, but shemanded respect.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Congrattions, challenger,” She said, shing me a smile. “That was one of the most enjoyable battles I’ve had with a trainer with only one badge. ID?”
<span style="font-weight:400">I bowed my head in respect and handed her my trainer card. She scanned it using some device— the same one Roark had— and handed it back to me. I now had two badges on the bottom left.
<span style="font-weight:400">“You’re now the owner of the forest badge, and I’ve transferred seven thousand Pokedors into your ount. Pokedex?” She continued.
<span style="font-weight:400">I fumbled around my bag and took the device out after a few seconds, and handed it to the gym leader. I really needed to be better at this, it was my second time doing it. She inserted a green disk into the TMpartment.
<span style="font-weight:400">“There you go, you’ll be able to teach your Pokemon Leech Seed now. The reward here used to be Grass Knot, but trust me, there’s much more to be gained from the former.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Thank you,” I said, my voice slightly shaking.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Take a breather in the waiting room, if you want. Regardless, you’re free to leave,” Gardenia said as she turned away from me. Her green drape fluttered in the wind like a cape.
<em><span style="font-weight:400">So cool.</em>
<span style="font-weight:400">I hurried into the waiting room and out of the spotlight. It would be Denzel’s turn to battle soon, and I needed to be quick if I wanted to drop my Pokemon at the nearest Pokemon Center, and I wanted to be back in time.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Ah,” I said when I saw him enter. He was clenching and unclenching his fists over and over while bouncing his leg up and down.
<span style="font-weight:400">Denzel smiled at me. “You were… you were fucking amazing, Grace,” He said. “That was a crazy battle, you definitely earned your win.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Thanks,” I simply answered. “I’m exhausted.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Yeah, the battle took exactly 19 minutes and 38 seconds, so that makes sense.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“What?!” I eximed. “I almost ran out the clock?”
<span style="font-weight:400">My friend nodded and brought his hands together. “Uhuh. That thing you did with Sunflora? Lifting up the <em><span style="font-weight:400">ground </em><span style="font-weight:400">it was standing on to make Sr Beam miss? Arceus.”
<span style="font-weight:400">I enjoyed the praise, but I could tell something was wrong. The tone he was employing was too upbeat, too cheerful for someone who was about to go into a gym battle. Denzel’s bodynguage told me he was anxious, but his voice told the opposite. He exhaled sharply before continuing.
<span style="font-weight:400">“That whole part of the battle in general was <em><span style="font-weight:400">nuts</em><span style="font-weight:400">. Togetic’s really been progressing at incredible speeds. To be able to stand up to Sunflora like that, I mean I didn’t even bother looking up the moves it used because I knew she was never going to use it on me—”
<span style="font-weight:400">I crouched in front of him and ced my hand on his knee. His leg stopped bouncing.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Hey,” I said, looking up into his eyes. “Something’s wrong. Tell me what it is.”
<span style="font-weight:400">Denzel paused. “I’m just nervous as hell, that’s what it is.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“You’re lying to me. Gardenia’s on break, so we have time,” I said. “I can tell something’s wrong. Something’s been off about you for a while, but I thought I was imagining things since you looked like you were having fun all the time.”
<span style="font-weight:400">His face tightened. “You should hurry and get your team to a Center. I don’t want you to miss my match—”
<span style="font-weight:400">I sat down and leaned against him. “I’ll miss it if it means we get you out of this rut,” I said. The conversation paused when a young gym trainer passed through the room and dipped his head. “Talk to me,” I said softly. “You’re the one that said it wasn’t good to hold things in back in Floaroma.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Won’t make a difference,” Denzel tly said. “Might actually make me battle worse.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“I think you’ll be much better with that weight lifted off your shoulder,” I said as I rubbed his back. “You can tell me anything. We’re best friends.”
<span style="font-weight:400">Denzel sped his hands together so tightly they turned white and brought them up to his mouth. His jaw trembled, and he sniffled. For a few seconds, I thought he would start to cry, but he didn’t.
<span style="font-weight:400">“This shit’s been <em><span style="font-weight:400">eating</em><span style="font-weight:400"> away at me,” He sighed. “It <em><span style="font-weight:400">really </em><span style="font-weight:400">shouldn’t be. I mean,pared to what you deal with, it’s nothing,” He let out a sadugh. “I’m not improving fast enough, Grace. At this rate, I’ll hold the group behind.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Why do you feel that way?” I asked. “Did you lose a battle?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“No,” He shrugged. “Nothing like that happened. It just doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that I’m not going as fast as you are. I’m not mad at you for that, by the way!” He quickly added. “I’m happy for you. It’s just frustrating to know that I’m slower than everyone else.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Mhm,” I said, letting him go on.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Your battle was probably the best one Gardenia’s had this Circuit,” Denzel said. “And to think that I have to go <em><span style="font-weight:400">right after that? </em><span style="font-weight:400">The pressure I feel… it’s immense,” He sighed, before showing me his shaky hand. “The only way I can stop myself from shaking is by making a fist or grabbing something.”
<span style="font-weight:400">I grabbed his hand. It was coarse and dry. “People are going topare you to me,” I said, nodding. There was no point in pretending otherwise and coddling him. “Look,” I started. “It might be true that I’ve been improving a lottely. Actually, it <em><span style="font-weight:400">is </em><span style="font-weight:400">true. But that’s because something just clicked for me when I battled Chase. I found my battling style— the way I enjoyed battling the most, and it turned every training session into so much fun, and everything is so much easier that I’m just… floating, I guess,” I tried exining. “It doesn’t feel like work at all.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“How?” He asked. “How did it happen? How do I <em><span style="font-weight:400">replicate</em><span style="font-weight:400"> it?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“I don’t know,” I simply answered. He sighed and leaned against the wall. “But here’s what I think. You’re going slower than I am right now, sure, let’s go with that. I know that things always get crazy from the forums and the media, but the Circuit isn’t a <em><span style="font-weight:400">race</em><span style="font-weight:400">,” I said firmly. “It’s about consistency. It’s about winning until you get to the Conference, not winning the fastest. For all you know, in a few weeks, you’ll have found something that works for you, and you’ll start to skyrocket past <em><span style="font-weight:400">me</em><span style="font-weight:400">,” I continued.
<span style="font-weight:400">“But to build up my brand, I need… I need momentum, I need coverage. I won’t get any of that if I’m just an <em><span style="font-weight:400">okay</em><span style="font-weight:400"> trainer. I need to be incredible, like you or Cecilia,” Denzel said.
<span style="font-weight:400">“You don’t,” I shook my head. “First of all, you’re <em><span style="font-weight:400">not </em><span style="font-weight:400">an okay trainer. No matter what you think, you’re definitely in the top bracket. Second of all, imagine if in between a route, like, in between Eterna city and Hearthome, you go from the way you are now to someone better than Cece’s level? That would <em><span style="font-weight:400">definitely </em><span style="font-weight:400">generate more attention than just being good all the time.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Maybe,” He hesitated.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Come on, you’ve seen Cecilia’s thread. People were crazy about her at the start of the Circuit, but now they’re kind of getting bored of her. Sure, her thread is still one of the most active ones, butpared to Chase’s, for example? People like controversy and action, and <em><span style="font-weight:400">events</em><span style="font-weight:400">. It’s not just about being the best.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“I mean, you’re definitely somewhat correct, but having <em><span style="font-weight:400">both </em><span style="font-weight:400">of these is what I need.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Look at the big picture, you oaf!” I eximed. “You’re traveling with a bunch of famous billionaires, and all you need to go from the top, what, ten percent to the top five percent of trainers is to find your battling style. You’re already most of the way there!”
<span style="font-weight:400">He sighed. “You’re… you’re right, but I still feel like shit somehow,” He said with a slight chuckle.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Do you feel like shit about the situation, or do you feel like shit about <em><span style="font-weight:400">yourself? </em><span style="font-weight:400">Because thetter is a recipe for disaster.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“I feel like shit, that’s all I can say,” Denzel said as he stood up. He rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. I looked up at him. He looked more confident than before. The trembling was gone, and his face was rxed. “But it’s weird, I feel strangely optimistic as well.”
<span style="font-weight:400">I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “Good. I’m not going to be here for the start of your battle, but I might make it before the end.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“That’s fine,” He said. “With all the advice you just gave me, it’ll be like you’re next to me the entire time.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Next time you have a problem, will you talk to me?” I asked.
<span style="font-weight:400">“I will, I just thought you had enough on your te. Plus, we almost had the exact same conversation back on route 203, but I needed to hear this again.”
<span style="font-weight:400">I grinned. “Keep your chin up, Denzel. This is only badge two out of eight. There’ll be plenty of twists and turns waiting for you this year.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Same to you,” He smiled. “And I’ll be the one to win it all,” Denzel dered. “I feel the gears turning in my head already, I think I’ve figured something out. One part of the puzzle, at least.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“We’ll see about that,” I retorted. “Now, are you ready to kick ass?”
<span style="font-weight:400">Denzel’s smile turned into a wild, toothy grin. <em><span style="font-weight:400">“Hell yes.”</em>
<span style="font-weight:400">——
<span style="font-weight:400">“Denzel Williams? You’re up,” The gym trainer said. Denzel uncrossed his arms and stopped leaning against the wall, and the trainer outfitted him with the usual microphone. “Good luck.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Thanks,” Denzel said.
<span style="font-weight:400">Denzel felt steadfast as he walked through the door to the battling arena. The words Grace had spoken to him were just that, words, but they had felt incredibly consequential. His best friend’s perceptiveness was so urate it was downright terrifying, but he had needed that pep talk, or he would have floundered the battle against Gardenia. She stood at the opposite side of the field and greeted him with the usual gym leader spiel, but Denzel’s attention was somewhere else.
<span style="font-weight:400">Gears turned in his head. Pieces of the puzzle slowly fit together.
<span style="font-weight:400">“…three-on-three battle with two switch-ins allowed…”
<span style="font-weight:400">It wasn’t a strategy being formed per se. Grace was better at that stuff than Denzel could ever hope to be. The teenager didn’t know every single Pokemon Gardenia owned and every single move they had and how to counter them with every single Pokemon. The memorization required for that was terrifying. Grace was terrifying.
<span style="font-weight:400">Denzel smiled at the notion that his friend, tiny as she was, was someone he considered terrifying. The gears… they were more like a general blueprint to follow. What was Gardenia good at? Making a battlest as long as possible to fish out your weaknesses, so how would he counter that?
<span style="font-weight:400">“Challenger? Send out your Pokemon, please!” Gardenia said. “Come on, it’s my <em><span style="font-weight:400"st</em><span style="font-weight:400"> battle of the day.”
<span style="font-weight:400">Well, they were gears in perpetual motion, after all, so the n was slowly unveiling itself, and Denzel was slowly figuring it out. He felt something tug at him like he was attached to a rope. Denzel grabbed his trusted Eevee’s Pokeball and sent him out. He barked and got into a prowl, and Denzel eagerly awaited to see what Gardenia would use against him.
<span style="font-weight:400">Clench, unclench. Clench, unclench. It was a mechanical motion that the trainer had always used to destress, but he found himself not needing it as much as he thought he would.
<span style="font-weight:400">Denzel took a deep breath, narrowing his eyes, and began to run purely on instinct.
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