The Type Specialist Extra Chapter 2 - The Viridian City Contest

Author Note:

Technically, this is a Contest chapter.

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Kanto. One of the most well-established regions, as well as the region in which the Pokémon League first formed. Other regions have always had their “bosses” and skilled trainers, but Kanto was the region that formalized and regulated the classic Pokémon Gym Challenge. Where every region had its age and history, there was something about Kanto that gave it more weight. Its Gym Leaders were extremely respected, it had a traditional order of challenge that almost every trainer followed, and even though it might have had less “interesting” destinations than those of other regions, it was consistently near the top of the list for most visited and challenged Leagues.

However, I wasn’t here for any of that. I was here on a day-long visit—technically, a week-long visit, but I didn’t consider my upcoming meeting with Silph Co. to be connected to any kind of “vacation.” Silph Co. was also unlikely to solve my problem when the Devon Corporation had already tried and failed, so none of that currently mattered to me.

No, I was here on a break, and the invitation to visit Silph Co. was truly just an excuse to be present right now. Kanto’s yearly season had only just begun, and with the start of its Gym Challenge came the start of something else:

Kanto had its own series of Contests, too.

“So!” a red-haired announcer called out, her voice echoing across the entire arena. “As is tradition, I bid you all welcome to the Viridian City Contest, the very first Contest of this year’s season!”

The crowd was uproarious, and, for once, I was a part of that massive group. The people here were desperate, almost hungry, to see a new Contest. Kanto’s previous Grand Festival had taken place months ago, and there was a palpable eagerness to see these performances start up once again.

Every region had always had a “first” Contest to start off the season in a major event, and this was Kanto’s. Where Sinnoh had its Jubilife City Contest, Kanto had its Viridian City Contest.

As I clapped and cheered alongside everyone else, I could feel the nostalgia beating in my chest. It’d been some time since I’d even just been tangentially involved with contests, and I could tell my Pokémon had missed it with how fervently they were cheering, too.

Though we would only be watching today, both Ninetales and Florges were screaming their names. Once more, they both wore sunglasses and had tied scarves around their heads to be present here in disguise. It was almost shameful how well those simple obscurations worked.

“Many of you are familiar with how Contests are run elsewhere, but for the people new to Kanto, our Contests are a little different,” the announcer said, smiling to the audience as her heels clicked across the stage. “Unlike those in other regions where trainers have free choice to choose what Pokémon to use in each round, here in Kanto, it’s a requirement that trainers use only two Pokémon, and those two Pokémon cannot be used in both the performance round and the battling round.”

A smile crept on her face.

“In other words, the Pokémon you see perform first won’t be the only Pokémon you see today!”

She stopped in place to let the crowd cheer in excitement, and my eyes scanned the stage for any hint of the person I was here to see. Unfortunately, competitors weren’t going to be shown until it was right before the time for them to come out.

The announcer’s speech continued, but she didn’t bring up any other major difference in the rules. The basics of Contests were pretty standard across regions, and so was their set of judges.

Like always, the head of the local Pokémon Fan Club was involved—same with the local Nurse Joy. Historically, since this was Viridian City, a representative from its local Gym would have been sent here, but given the last Gym Leader turned out to be the leader of Team Rocket, the local Gym couldn’t afford to do anything so “basic.”

“Any words of wisdom to share before we start?” the announcer called out, swinging her microphone around to point toward where the three judges sat.

“I hope all the Coordinators try their best to be... remarkable!” the local Pokémon Fan Club head called out.

“Please, remember to treat your Pokémon with kindness, and don’t push them too hard! I don’t want to see any Pokémon here get injured today!” the nurse added.

And then, the microphone was pointed right at the third person sitting at the table, and rather than an immediate response, all that came was a scowl.

“Bah. No, I don’t have any ‘words of wisdom’ to share,” Agatha, the current stand-in Viridian City Gym Leader for the past three years running, said. “Get on with it. I’m a busy woman. You’re keeping everyone waiting by stalling so much.”

“Well, she’s grumpy,” I whispered to my team.

Ninetales and Florges mumbled in agreement, but the audience seemed to laugh in support of Agatha’s grumbling. Apparently, retiring from the Elite Four hadn’t changed Kanto’s relatively positive opinion of her. Although, she had turned Giovanni’s rather extravagant Gym into a public library. While I had no idea why Agatha, of all people, would want to do that, that change was probably doing wonders for her public respect.

“Hah! Well, as our esteemed guest has requested, there’s no sense in waiting any longer!” the announcer shouted as she turned back to face the audience. “We have dozens upon dozens of wonderful Coordinators waiting to start off the year! So, without further ado, let us begin!”

“I hope she does well,” I said quietly to my team.

Immediately, the stage was beset by novice coordinator after novice coordinator, each one going on to perform for the first time and pouring their hearts into their performances. Well-groomed species like Meowth and Eevee ran across the stage to show off their fur and health while also demonstrating their expertise with what few moves they knew. Locally found species like Nidoran and Pikachu appeared in great numbers to display their unique takes on certain attacks. Thundershocks wove electric webs over jumping Pikachu, and Poison Stings burst into clouds of sparkling mist whenever they hit their target.

Despite how prevalent they were in these parts, Bug Types were not too common in these performances, but the allure of eventually performing alongside a Butterfree or Beedrill was rather great. The occasional Caterpie and Weedle would show up, and sometimes so would their evolved, chrysalis forms. I’d never seen so many ways String Shot could be used, but ultimately, with so many people all but restricted to a single attack, those kinds of performances did get old after only a short while.

There were also some rarer Kanto species involved, like Poliwag, Houndour, and Farfetch’d, but this was still a beginner’s contest. The vast majority of these performances were merely about trainers showing off their Pokémon’s appearance while making sparkles. Contests were about demonstrating the peak of what your Pokémon could do, but the vast majority of these novice trainers didn’t yet have the skills, moves, or experience to try anything more complicated than that.

And then, it was her turn.

When her name and picture appeared on the screen above the stage, Ninetales and Florges could not stop screaming.

“Up next, we have a Coordinator who’s come a long way from home!” came the announcer’s shout. “Everyone, give a warm welcome to Lillie, a trainer from Alola!”

I stood when I cheered, and Ninetales and Florges did as well. I could see Lillie stride onto the stage, head held high. However, her expression turned bright red the second her gaze landed on where we stood.

Her participation in Alola’s League meant she was an experienced trainer, but she was competing in the Novice Contest due to her extreme lack of experience with performance. Her team might have had the power, but they were judged to lack the skill required to do well in a higher-tier show.

Still, her placement here did not dissuade her, as she very quickly cleared her throat and grabbed a white Pokéball. I didn’t miss how the sphere in her hand was tinted blue—she had made sure to secure a few seals from all the way in Sinnoh, and those carefully placed stickers allowed for a young Alolan Vulpix to appear on the stage alongside a small burst of fake snow.

“Snowy!” Lillie shouted.

Her partner Pokémon landed as softly as an early morning’s powder, and Ninetales was somehow able to cheer even harder when her niece appeared on the stage.

“Set up the floor!” Lillie ordered. “Then, paint the sky!”

Snowy didn’t wait to start moving, and Lillie ran to dash alongside her Pokémon.

The pair of them circled the stage, leaving behind a trail of white, powdery snow. Circling the stage was also a pretty basic strategy that let Lillie show off all sides of her Pokémon while also letting Snowy demonstrate her skill. Usually, the stark whiteness of Powder Snow stood at odds with a Pokémon’s appearance, but in this case, the powder worked well to show off Snowy’s well-groomed appearance as well as the faintest of blue tints that came naturally to her species.

As this was a Contest, Lillie herself was also dressed up. However, I very pointedly ignored that. I did not want to acknowledge the familiar dress and hat, nor did I want to think about how it had not originally been chosen by her.

Once the circle of snow had been formed around the stage, Lillie and Snowy stopped the technique to run to the center. Stepping to the side to make room for her Pokémon, Lillie was already panting somewhat, but Snowy was a veteran of a decent number of battles and still had plenty of energy to go.

“Up!” Lillie ordered.

Snowy cried out her name, and a howl echoed over the stage.

At my side, a soft whine came out. Ninetales couldn’t have looked prouder even if she tried.

Remaining in place, just by throwing back her head, Snowy was able to conjure a snow cloud. However, she wasn’t just making it under her own power. It was like she was drawing in the snow from the circle she’d made around her and bringing that up to send it into the sky.

I also felt proud; Lillie was using a weather effect. Much like Ninetales, Snowy was setting up a Hail storm—or, specifically, a Snowscape.

Except—

“Oh,” I mumbled. “She’s messing up, isn’t she?”

Nearby, Florges nodded her head, her expression calm. Her discerning gaze swept over the field, and I followed it. She looked over to the judges, and when I saw them, most of them looked unimpressed.

Though the snowstorm was forming well enough above the Vulpix, this strategy had two main problems. First, the placement and use of the snow around the field almost implied that she needed some kind of setup to use this move, and when the snow was suctioned up and sent into the air, it completely obscured the little Vulpix’s white-furred body.

“Agh,” I groaned. “Lillie has the power, but there’s a reason she’s in the Novice Contest.”

This was taking a while, and the sheer amount of white meant we couldn’t see her Vulpix at all.

“Great!” Lillie shouted on the stage, unaware of what was going on. “Now, go ahead and use your Aurora Veil! Just like we planned!”

Due to its difficulty, Aurora Veil was an impressive move for a Vulpix to learn, but the problem was that she was adding even more to the snow-filled air—and we still couldn’t see Snowy use it at all. Rainbow screens formed all around the field, completely encapsulating the spot where Lillie’s Pokémon sat under the clouds. We should have been able to see just how Snowy was using this move, but right now, it looked like Lillie was being flashy just for the sake of being flashy.

A beginner’s mistake. Even when I had my team hide themselves with their moves in their performances, I made sure it never lasted long, and it was always to build up a reveal that’d show them off later.

And, credit to Lillie, that was what she was going for; it just took a bit too long and hid a bit too much. She had Snowy make an entire ball of Aurora Veil—an impressive trick—and then Snowy purposefully let it shatter, sending out a freezing pulse in all directions.

With that finale, Snowy was finally revealed underneath, and the reveal wasn’t the worst thing in the world. She looked perfectly fine and healthy, and even with everything she’d done, she'd maintained the poise needed to imply that her show had taken little effort at all.

“Hmph,” came a response from Agatha.

That dismissive noise saw Lillie immediately pale.

“And that was Lillie and Snowy!” the announcer called out.

“Th-thank you!” Lillie replied a little too quickly, bowing her head and then running off with her Pokémon.

I watched as she disappeared, with Lillie dashing behind the curtain as her eyes never left the ground. Behind her, a pair of Alakazam teleported onto the stage to clean up the lingering snow while the announcer began to introduce the next person to perform.

“A good display of skill. A good display of strength. Given this is a Novice Contest, the judges will rate her appropriately to her level of strength, and I’d say her performance is still one of the better ones we’ve seen so far,” I said.

Florges hummed in agreement. That finale had left her impressed. Ninetales barked as if to try to defend her niece’s entire performance, but there was a hesitance to her noise that spoke of her being unsure.

We were only halfway through the performance round, and there were a lot of Coordinators involved with the Contest today. Lillie did well, but even with all of these shows, only sixteen total trainers would be moving on to the second stage.

She should be proud, but with how she ran off the stage like that...

The image wouldn’t leave my head.

“I think... Excuse me,” I said, standing up as a Coordinator partnered with yet another Pikachu appeared on the stage. “I want to talk to her. I'll be right back.”

Squeezing past my Pokémon, I left the stands to head out.

If Lillie wanted to do well, she needed to stay confident. I needed to talk to her before they announced just who would be moving on to the next round.

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It didn’t take me long to find her. She was sitting in the hallway just outside of where the contestants waited between matches. This performance hall was actually Viridian City’s largest arena, just repurposed, but even with the sheer size of its center stage, so deep into these lower hallways, the noise of the crowd was muffled enough that it almost felt silent.

Lillie didn’t look up as I approached. She remained where she sat on the floor, running her hands through her Vulpix's fur in her lap.

Without saying anything, I took a seat next to her, and I didn’t need to prod her for a reaction before she spoke up.

“We messed up, didn’t we?” she said quietly.

Humming in response, I knew there was no need to lie.

“Yes and no, but mostly no. You had an advantage today, given your experience in Alola, and you made the most of that to have a genuinely impressive show. However, it’s also obvious you didn’t have any experience with Contests before now. Snowy has been in a decent number of battles, and you showed off her skill well—”

“But I didn’t show her off.”

I took a second to reply.

“Not for the entire time, no. However, that’s less important since you previously showed her off when she was circling around.”

“But a performance should focus on your Pokémon, not just the appearance of their moves,” Lillie said softly. “You told me that so much, and I should have known that much! But then, when we were out there... I thought that hiding Snowy in her snow was our best course.”

“It worked out with the Aurora Veil reveal at the end,” I pointed out.

“But the judges never saw Snowy use Aurora Veil,” Lillie countered.

She shook her head and plunged her face into Snowy’s fur. The little fox in her lap whined at the act, not bothered by it but just trying to press against Lillie in an attempt to cheer her up.

“I know we didn’t actually do that poorly,” Lillie mumbled into her Pokémon. “It’s just... I wanted it to be perfect. I wanted... I wanted to send it home.”

“Your... ribbon?” I asked.

“No. The recording,” Lillie mumbled flatly.

“Ah,” I said after a second. “That’s why you’re wearing that outfit. You want to send a recording of this contest to your mom.”

Sniffling, Lillie brought her head back up, but she pulled down the wide brim of her hat to hide the upper half of her face. She leaned back against the wall even as Snowy leaned against her chest. She sat there for a moment, just petting her Pokémon, visibly thinking about whatever it was she wanted to say next.

“Can I ask you what’s going to happen with my mom? Truthfully? Please don’t try to soften the blow.”

As I turned toward the opposite wall, I was similarly deep in thought. As much as I knew I could avoid answering, doing so would be pointless, and it wouldn’t be what she wanted to hear right now.

“As much as your mother almost caused a region-wide catastrophe, she does have some pretty great lawyers, and she is responsible for the Aether Foundation and all the good their rescue work has done. There’s also the fact that she isn’t exactly unfamiliar with the science behind Ultra Wormholes and knows key information that many other people don’t. I know you’re already aware of this, but she’s not in jail. She’s likely to be under permanent house arrest.”

“Like that... Who was that guy? Xa... Xavier?”

“Xerosic,” I replied, correcting her. “Yeah. Basically, someone who’s not a great person, but someone who demonstrated enough regret and is willing to do the work needed to make up for their crimes.”

Technically, something like this happened with Team Magma’s leader, Maxie. He was never going to lose the high security that surrounded him due to his followers’ cult-like devotion, but as far as I knew, he now worked for the League as an environmental analyst. Similarly, Xerosic still worked in Sycamore’s lab—much to Sycamore’s displeasure—and Lusamine...

She would work in her home, the mansion on Aether’s artificial island. She would no longer have access to most of the luxuries she was used to, and she would definitely lack most of the privacy she’d taken advantage of before. Ultimately, however, she would continue to work with the Aether Foundation, just at arm’s length and without any authority or the role of the Foundation’s president.

It didn’t help that the next most educated person on Ultra Wormholes, Faba, was gone. Nobody knew where he was. There were conflicting reports on whether or not he’d been captured, escaped, or... something else. Mainly, the League could find nothing about his location, even with their best psychics.

As far as anyone knew, Faba had completely disappeared.

“Everyone can get better,” Lillie said. “Mom did, for a while, after everything that happened with dad. At least, that’s what Gladion told me.”

She had to go quiet for a moment after saying that.

“I know Gladion doesn’t want to talk to her, but I still call her, and we talk. Except, whenever she speaks, it always feels like she’s... off. Distant. Almost dreamy. It feels like she’s not fully there.”

“I just wanted...” Lillie continued, hanging her head once more. “I thought that if I sent her something really good, she’d be reminded of how things used to be, and then she’d snap out of it. Like, she’d see my performance, think it was really good, and then she’d realize there was more to beauty than whatever she saw in Ultra Beasts.”

“I get it.” I pressed my head against the wall and tried not to think about anything else. “You told me that you wanted to perform for you and your team, but you also wanted to perform for your mother, huh?”

“Yeah,” Lillie admitted alongside a sigh.

She sat there for a while while I considered how I wanted to reply. Eventually, I came up with a dumb idea—probably the dumbest one. If I was anyone else, and if I was speaking to anyone else, it wouldn’t work.

But it’d work right here and now.

“So you failed,” I said outright.

Lillie bowed her head as if she was about to agree with me, but then she blinked and snapped her gaze over, recognizing the absurdity of how it was me saying it as well as the lack of seriousness in my voice.

“What?”

“Yeah, you definitely failed,” I said, purposefully refusing eye contact. “Nothing you did out there had any impact. Certainly not Snowy’s masterful control of snow or her impressive use of Aurora Veil. Those docked points for hiding her for a few seconds are going to ruin your perfect score. And without a perfect score, this entire Contest is pointless! There’s no way you’ll be able to move on to—”

I was interrupted when Lillie lightly smacked my arm.

“You can’t talk like that!” she said, holding back a ridiculous laugh.

“First off, ow. You’ve been learning way too much from Hope,” I said, rubbing my arm in mock-pain and receiving a pair of stuck-out tongues from both Lillie and Snowy in return. “Second off, do you see my point? If I’m not allowed to talk like that, then why are you allowed to talk like that to yourself?”

“That’s because—” Lillie suddenly stopped, frowning at my question. “Alex, this is the dumbest way you’ve ever tried to cheer me up.”

“What, by insulting you?” I asked idly.

She giggled.

“Yes!”

“Well, it’s working, isn't it?” I offered. “What I said was completely ridiculous, and I know you recognize that. Yes, it hurt your performance to hide Snowy for a few seconds, but that’s the worst that happened. You showed off so much, and that’s why you should be proud.”

Lillie took a second to think, and I pretended to stare straight ahead. Checking on her out of the corner of my eye, I managed to notice that a small smile had crept back onto her face.

“We... showed off how healthy Snowy is,” she said, speaking slowly at the start. “How she’s capable of running and using a move at the same time with ease. How she has great spatial awareness to draw a perfect circle and then stop in its exact middle. And then, even though she was hidden, she did create a full weather effect, and it’s hard for a Vulpix to learn Aurora Veil before it evolves into Ninetales.”

“See? Pretty good show, in my opinion,” I said.

“But they’re still going to grade us harder than the other trainers since we have more experience,” Lillie grumbled. “Snowy’s been trained before, so of course she can do all of that. Meanwhile, the true new trainers will only have to perform at their expected level.”

With that continued denial, all I had to do was send her a flat look.

“...You mean like the guy who wanted to show off his Nidoran’s accuracy, but then had only a third of its Poison Sting actually hit its target?”

“No,” Lillie shot right back. “I’m talking about Coordinators like the girl with the Pidgey that was able to make Gusts to launch itself straight into the sky.”

“What about the Pikachu that just ran in a circle and lightly sparked?”

“There’s that Poliwag trainer!” Lillie countered. “With just a few Water Guns and Mud Slaps, the entire stage was turned into a swamp!”

“Who else?” I asked.

“There was...” Lillie contorted her face to think. “Maybe that trainer with a Nidoran that was able to crack the provided rock?”

I stared at her and waited for any other examples of performances that were better than hers, but Lillie didn’t say anything. She just stayed quiet.

“Huh,” she eventually said. “I guess we did do a good job.”

“You performed better than you think,” I said, pushing to my feet and offering an arm. “Stand up. Let’s head back. There are more performances to watch and learn from. And, I promise you, when the first round’s rankings come out, you’ll see that you did better than you think."

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Sixteenth.

Out of the sixteen trainers to move onto the battle rounds, Lillie was placed sixteenth.

Her position reminded me of a joke about students trying to become Doctors—a Doctor who graduates last in their class would still be graduating as a Doctor in the very end.

“She’s feeling better,” I said as I returned to my Pokémon. “She was ecstatic when she found out she’s moving on. A bit of time, and she’ll be back out here. Then, of course, we’ll see her crush the rest of the trainers on the stage.”

It wouldn’t be as straightforward as a basic battle—if Lillie used one bad move that knocked out her opponent in a single blow, there was still the possibility that she didn’t win. The important part of these battles was to fight while showing off your Pokémon. This was a Pokémon Contest. She would have to fight while making sure her chosen team member looked better than her foe’s.

But as I sat, my Pokémon looked confident. They were familiar with a great many members of Lillie’s team. She had her own set of Fairy Types to choose from, and whatever she selected, both Ninetales and Florges were confident that Lillie would pull off a win.

We watched a few battles. They mostly involved novices, but there were a couple of trainers who did use Pokémon that were stronger than I would have thought. There was a Growlithe whose Flamethrower didn’t quite fit the expected level of the stage, and there was even an evolved Wartortle that gave its best showing against a Doduo. 

Ultimately, however, that Wartortle lost to its weaker foe.

But then, the eighth round hit, and the next two Coordinators were sent up. Lillie strode onto the field with a bright smile on her face, and this time around, when she saw me and my Pokémon cheer, she didn’t flush bright red.

“Coordinators!” the announcer shouted. “Send out your Pokémon!”

“Sunkern!” her opponent called on.

On Lillie’s side of the field, there was a slight delay.

Looking at her, Ninetales, Florges, and I all went dead silent when we saw the latticed Pokéball that she held in one hand.

“She’s not really—”

Ninetales let out a barking laugh, and Florges put her face in her hands.

Across the entire arena, the audience fell into a complete silence when they beheld just what Pokémon Lillie sent out.

“Nebby!”

...Faced with the Legendary Solgaleo, Lillie’s opponent looked as though he was about to ruin his pants.

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“I can’t believe I lost,” Lillie said to me once the Contest was over.

“I can’t believe you lost,” I repeated right back. “At least, you got pretty far? I’m also pretty sure that you tried your best?”

Frustrated, Lillie shoved a spoon of ice cream into her mouth.

The sweet flavor only barely helped.

Nearby, on the road, an entire squad of Ace Trainers did their best to try to redirect a growing crowd. The awe-inspiring, heart-shaking, spine-chilling Legendary Pokémon that was Nebby the Solgaleo, currently on his vacation from the space between worlds, sprawled out on his back like an enormous, depressed cat.

I’m going to have to file so much paperwork.

“If we just weren’t facing a Sunkern—!” Lillie cried.

“Think about it like this,” I said, “you fought a Pokémon that was empowered by the sun with a Pokémon that was the living embodiment of the sun.”

“I just thought we’d win,” Lillie grumbled again.

“I mean, I did too, but apparently, the judges didn’t agree. I suppose... Which is more impressive? A strong Pokémon punching down, or a tiny little seed giving it their all despite the impossible threat?”

Frowning, Lillie took another bite, not wanting to state the obvious after her direct experience with exactly that.

We ate our ice cream, and Lillie fumed. However, the sweet flavor did seem to calm her down. Eventually, her silence became less punctuated with grumbles and more and more punctuated hums of careful thought.

Soon, she regained the spirit to speak up once again.

“...I think I am going to send a recording to my mom.”

“You are?” I asked, looking up. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. She won’t be impressed, but that’s not the point. We might have lost the Contest, but we did well, and we had fun, too.”

I stared at her, and Lillie smiled. Eventually, I had to chuckle.

“I’m glad you’re cheering up.”

“I am too! This was a great experience for us! I won’t make the same mistakes again,” she said. “And...”

A gleam entered her eyes.

“And,” she continued. “Even though we lost today, we aren’t giving up. This just means that we’ll look even more impressive when we win next!”

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Author Note:

The end is meant to be silly. Please forgive me!