Chapter 159

Author Note:

This chapter has a cruel cliffhanger.

...So I’ll be posting a second chapter after this one. You should see it up within the next few minutes.

Also, if you missed it, there is a poll going on for the next fiction! You can find it here!

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Sam was able to meet back up with his mother and catch Redi’s match. The schedule was incredibly tight, and battles were happening one after the other.

Each battlefield type had its own sub-arena, and trainers were given the additional option of a "default" battlefield in the main arena itself. Matches were staggered to start every few minutes so that no two battles started simultaneously, and trainers were given fifteen minutes to fight and then five minutes for after-battle cleanup.

The schedule wasn't perfect. Some matches went over, and some went under, but it averaged out well enough. With that twenty-minute block reserved per competitor and with five possible arenas, a total of fifteen battles could take place in an hour.

However, the first and second rounds set for today were the largest rounds overall. A hundred twenty-eight battles would make up the first, and then another sixty-four would make up the second. With the current rate, it would take almost thirteen hours to get through all of the scheduled battles if everything ended on time.

And that didn’t even account for the one-hour “lunch break” that was scheduled to take place between rounds.

The only bright side about this fourteen-hour schedule was that it ensured all upcoming days would be easier. Still, it was like the tournament was frontloading all of its exhaustion, and then everyone would need to carry that forward.

Many were worried.

Though the air was rife with both tension and an innate desire to battle, Redi's fight went in her favor easily enough. Her opponent had the strange “specialization” of Pokémon that were both Water and Ground. Her team didn't exactly have any useful Grass Type moves, but her strategy resulted in a victory.

Rather than do anything to hide her team members or follow through with a complicated plan, Redi went with the simple strategy of assigning team members to specific opponents, and then she did what she could to ensure those match-ups remained.

In a three-on-three match, she wanted to use all three of her Pokémon, and whenever her opponent switched, she would switch as well.

Since her opponent lacked anything that could affect either trainer’s freedom to switch, Redi was always able to adjust the match-up to be what she wanted. Her opponent was unable to stop her, and he had to fight in battles solely determined by her.

Ursaring fought and practically buried a Quagsire. Porygon stayed out of range and used Tri-Attack to freeze a Gastrodon. Dragonair made an appearance, much to the delight of the audience, and she managed to handle an impressive Swampert through a clever use of Twister.

Already, Dragonair on her own was enough to get Redi a following, but the presence of her unique Porygon2 was also earning her cheers.

When the match ended, Redi waved to her growing number of fans and went up to the referee to whisper in his ear. Somehow, she convinced him to turn on his mic, and then, of course, the entire arena learned of her family’s business.

“Yeah, I don't know why they let me do that,” Redi said afterward as she reclined under a tree in a park near the Conference grounds. “Like, I’ve done that in all of my previous tournaments. Why wouldn't I do that here?”

“I guess they expected more decorum,” Sam offered. He stood at the bottom of a small slope, a few feet away..

“It’s certainly an interesting marketing strategy,” his mother added. She was closer to the park’s edge and where a handful of passersby moved past.

“Well, it works!” Redi replied proudly. “I asked my parents about it, and after the Beginner’s Tournament, interested phone calls went up a full twenty-five percent!”

Of course, she meant four phone calls had turned into five, but her parents’ construction company mainly took on big jobs that resulted in large payments. Even just a single extra phone call was a victory in her books. It might not have led to a job, but it did mean there were more people aware of her family’s business out there.

“And what about you?” Redi looked over to Sam’s mother. “You don't want your bookstore mentioned?”

“It's a local business in another region,” she said with a casual wave. “I get enough customers as it stands, and too much attention would overwhelm me with work. I wouldn't be able to handle all of that.”

“But you could hire more workers, and then you could franchise! That’d be pretty swell, right?”

Sam’s mother went quiet when faced with Redi’s smile.

“It would, wouldn't it?” Sam heard her whisper.

Next to her, Sableye was crouched next to Delcatty, and for some reason, both Pokémon shivered.

“What about you, Sam? Think it'd be worth it?” Redi asked.

“What?”

He looked away from where Trevenant was motionless before him. He hadn't expected to be called on.

“Advertising your mom's business? Getting her name out there?”

“Oh, uh, sure. If she wants it, I guess,” he said.

Sam turned back to Trevenant, and Trevenant continued to stand in place, rooted under the early afternoon sun. His battle had seen him push himself to the extreme; while repeated uses of Growth had resulted in the sweep Sam had sought, Trevenant had used Phantom Force faster than he had ever used it before, and he had to control a massive amount of energy to faint his opponents as quickly as he did.

“...Is he okay?” Redi asked. Her voice was quiet.

“He's fine,” Sam said with a sigh. “He’s just exhausted.” 

Thankfully, the Pokémon Center had treated Trevenant the best they could, but for him to fully recover, he needed rest, and as a Grass Type, that meant he needed light—though his Ghost Type half meant he was better off if that light was from the moon. Still, the sun’s light worked well enough, and his roots were letting him absorb needed nutrients from the earth.

Trevenant stood as still as his tree-half would imply. Likely, it’d be a while until he was truly ready to move, and Sam stood up to give Trevenant room, walking back up the hill to deposit himself at Redi’s side under the tree.

“The nurses said he's tapped out. Growth granted him a bunch of energy, but it also took a lot of his focus to maintain. His body is sturdy enough that he could take plenty more hits if we needed him to, but when it comes to actually using moves, he’s better off resting before doing any of that.”

Redi hummed. She’d seen Sam’s match.

“And Mismagius?”

“Fine. A little shaken after those Vine Whips, but she did well to buy space for Trevenant.”

“So will they be good for your next match? You said you wanted to use them again, right? Trainers are going to be using four Pokémon for the second round. Are those two going to be part of your plan?”

Faced with the sudden onslaught of curious questions, it took a second for Sam to respond.

“I’m not sure yet,” he said.

Truthfully, he still didn’t have a plan.

It was the break between rounds, and Sam wanted to spend this time thinking, relaxing, and preparing for his next match. People were wandering and exploring the city around them. With the tournament’s start, there were a bunch of new arrivals. There’d be even more for when the finals took place.

Sam was more focused on the tournament than the people. Before heading out here with Redi, he had checked to see who his next opponent would be, and Redi had done the same.

Unlike him, she was currently reveling in the fact that her next opponent would use a team of Electric Types. Two of those Pokémon had taken heavy hits in the previous round to be knocked out, and the third looked like it was exhausted already.

Given that her opponent’s team only consisted of five Pokémon, and with just how much Ursaring had been practicing his Ground Type moves, Redi was in a strong position to overtake and sweep.

But for Sam, his opponent was significantly more complicated. He had all of their details in his League-labeled notebook.

While his next trainer wasn’t anyone he recognized, they were a Psychic Type specialist, and though Sam’s team should have had the advantage, that wasn't good news. Psychic Types excelled at prediction and coverage. Their Type was basically the king of handling special attackers. With Trevenant so tired, four out of the five remaining members of Sam’s team heavily relied on special moves, which would likely make most knock-outs more difficult than average.

There was also the fact that his team would be vulnerable to many of his opponent’s attacks. Although the Ghost Type was super effective against the Psychic Type, Shadow Ball was a very common move for Psychic Types to learn. There was also the issue of his team's mobility being countered by a Psychic Type's mobility. Moving through shadows meant little when your opponent could instantly shift positions with Teleport.

“I'm worried, but I'm often worried about a lot,” Sam said, shifting back so he could lean against the trunk of the tree while watching Trevenant. “What if we don't beat them? What if getting here was just a fluke? What if the rankings were right, and we really are in last?”

“Sam—”

“But those questions are stupid,” Sam said, clenching his fist. “Self-doubt? It's easy to have self-doubt, but all self-doubt does is drag you down. So I'm done with that. It’s not worth questioning myself. We’re here now, and we have a battle coming up. My focus is wholly on finding a way to win.”

Nearby, his mother smiled.

“I know we can do this,” he continued, “but the problem is finding the right strategy. And more than that, how much of my team do I want to reveal? Once we make it through, we need to be wary of other trainers making counters for us.”

Sam remembered the head referee’s initial warnings, but he still wanted to see if he could leave some of his team members as a surprise. Except, for this upcoming round, he doubted he could get away with using less than the recommended max. Psychic Type Pokémon at this level were always strong. He might have succeeded with using one Pokémon in the preliminaries and two in the first round, but for this second round match, he’d most likely need to use every Pokémon that was permitted.

He would have to reveal something. Between the five or so healthy Pokémon he had left, three of them would be surprises.

Typhlosion. Annihilape. Drakloak.

They’re all species not seen in Johto.

Trevenant was at least native to the region, his species was just rare. Most people in this tournament were primarily using Pokémon from Johto and Kanto, but a few were using species from Hoenn and Sinnoh. A number of trainers, even fewer than them, were using one or two Pokémon only ever found further away.

“So... I don’t get it,” Redi said, speaking up. “What’s the point?”

Sam glanced over to her.

“Excuse me?”

“What's the point of hiding your team?” she said.

“It's strategy. I want to do that so I can always have a surprise,” Sam answered. “I hold my team members back so that people don't know what to plan for, and then when I use them in battle, our opponents won't have counters to the Pokémon that I have.”

Redi fully turned to stare at Sam, and Sam awkwardly shifted in place, uncomfortable by the weight of her gaze.

“But does that actually help?”

Her words felt more like a statement than a question.

“I mean, of course it does. Like I said, it prevents my opponents from making pl—”

“But not everyone you face is going to be so focused on planning like you are,” Redi interrupted. “And after the initial surprise, most people will just adapt.”

Sam was silent.

“Like, I get holding some stuff back, maybe a few strategies or a handful of moves, but you're planning to hold back way more than that. I mean, you’re trying not to use entire sections of your team!” Redi exclaimed. “With how you fight, you try to have all of your Pokémon play off of each other, but are you really going to stop yourself from doing that just for a single moment of surprise?”

Redi suddenly tapped her chin.

“How does that phrase go?” she asked. “You're cutting off your arm to spite your face?”

“...That's not how the phrase goes, and it doesn’t apply,” Sam mumbled.

His mother chuckled, but Redi just waved him off.

“Whatever. You get what I mean. Battles are already limited, so why limit yourself even further? Everyone here is giving it their all. It’s almost kind of insulting. Do you really want to go out of your way to hurt your chances and risk never revealing your team members in the later rounds?”

Redi sent him another look, and Sam knew.

She was right.

He didn’t have a response. He couldn’t have a response. For once, she was the one giving him advice on strategy, and she had basically taken his whole plan and picked it apart.

In his opinion, the biggest part of the Conference was the information game, but not everyone played on the same field. Chuck had already told him that some trainers were more instinctual fighters and that others were better at making plans. Surprises were all but useless against one and were only somewhat effective against the other.

With Trevenant forced to stay out of the next match, Sam had five, maybe six Pokémon to choose from. With three species that he wanted to keep hidden, he was cutting his potential options in half. Realistically, he would need to use at least a few of them.

So he thought about it.

He weighed Redi’s advice while watching Trevenant take in the sun. Already, his Pokémon was looking better, but he’d need to be wary about his Pokémon exhausting themselves again over the next few days and in future rounds.

...But I need to get there first.

“Do you agree with her, Mom?” Sam asked.

“I do. She’s right,” came his mother’s reply.

Sam let out a breath, recognizing he was in a tough position. He was forced to ask himself a question:

Did he really want to throw out all of his plans for the Conference just because they were making him worse off?

Yeah, I probably do.

“Ugh.” Sam rubbed the sides of his head out of annoyance. “Why was I doing that! I almost just completely screwed myself over. I would have held back some of my best fighters just because I didn’t want to reveal them, but if I didn’t reveal them, then when would I reveal them? 

“Doing that would have probably cost me my next fight, and then I would have sunk everything I’ve been waiting to do all season.”

“You’re welcome, Sam,” Redi said. “You can count on me to make sure you don’t lose until our fight!”

...She didn't need to look so smug when she said that.

“I think there's a lesson I can apply here, one that’s inspired by the Ghost Type,” Sam said after giving himself a little time to think. “Ghosts are great at hiding, but more than anything else, they're even better at scaring.”

He could continue to hold his team members back and effectively hide from the competition, but the longer he “hid,” the more chances he’d be discovered or lose his opportunity for a scare.

Like a Ghost Type, he needed to know when to strike, and he recognized that he needed to strike now.

“But if I’m going to stop holding back in the next round, I think I should go big,” Sam mumbled.

“What are you planning?” Redi asked.

He didn’t answer. He just smiled.

Redi was right; it was time for his grand reveal. But as much attention as a dripfeed of reveals would provide, it made more sense to include everything at once for the grandest scare possible.

Despite all of his time spent training, he had no way to guarantee he’d make it into the next rounds. He needed to do this now before an unhappy elimination, and doing this would also increase his chances of a win.

So, after only a bit more conversation, Sam came to a decision and came up with a plan. When his second match finally rolled around later today, he would bring everyone out, and he would reveal his full team to shock this side of the world.

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Unknown to most people—or at least only known to the more observant people around—officials from the League had their own sealed box in which they could look out over the main arena. One wall was nothing more than one-way glass that allowed the people inside to stare out without receiving any stares in return. And, inside it, three rows of seats were set up to allow them to sit comfortably. In the back, a television played the official Conference broadcast, and a long table was covered in snack foods for anyone to take.

When Morty stepped into the room, it was noisy. A small group of kids was pressed against the window, cheering their hearts out at the end of the previous match. Out of the five kids, two of them had been supporting one competitor, and another two had been supporting the other.

But that was only four. The fifth was cheering, but his intentions were more subtle. While he was here with his friends on behalf of Azalea’s Gym, he also kept sending glances toward someone else sitting in the room.

That’s... Bugsy, if I’m remembering correctly, Morty mused to himself as he closed the door behind him. I believe he’s been pushing for Azalea to have a single Gym Leader. Something about not wanting them to fall behind?

There weren’t too many other people in the room. Not every Gym Leader and Elite came to the Conference to watch it in person. Morty knew Chuck usually hosted an event alongside all of his Gym Trainers in Cianwood City, Jasmine was too shy to show up in person, Pryce refused to set foot on official League property unless necessary, and Walker probably only paid attention to the Conference via radio.

Probably.

Walker was still out there, somewhere. He hadn’t yet returned to his Gym. Last Morty had heard, Walker still hadn’t shown up, and his son was still the de facto leader of Violet City’s Gym.

Still, the total number of people in this room was small in number. Though Goldenrod City was hosting its own viewing event, Whitney was present in the room and was indulging in the free snacks set to the side. Morty himself was also here, of course, but he was the only other Gym Leader in the room.

He also noticed his shadow wasn’t stretching out as much as usual.

In the corner, an old woman stood where she wouldn’t be immediately noticed, her gaze sharp and locked onto the field. His team hadn’t been reacting for a reason; they knew to not misbehave in her presence.

Morty sent a polite nod to Elite Four Agatha and then tried to move to take a seat next to the same person Bugsy kept sending stares. However, before he could reach where Champion Lance sat at the front, he was interrupted by someone else—one of the many people observing and taking notes on the Conference’s competitors.

“Why, isn’t it Gym Leader Morty himself! With how crowded this room is becoming, we’re practically having a party!”

Morty paused at the sudden greeting; somehow, he had completely missed this man before his sudden appearance at his side. He also did his best to suppress his double-take.

He hadn’t expected one of the Conference’s observers to be so... colorfully dressed.

“Call me Will, Psychic Type specialist extraordinaire! As you see, I’m assisting the Champion with his observations. It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Mortimer!”

Morty chucked.

“Do you mind if I just call you Will, and not Will, Psychic Type specialist extraordinaire?”

Will laughed.

“That would be just fine! Preferred, in fact! It’d be difficult to hold a conversation if I required everyone to use all of my names at once!”

Even with the mask that covered the upper half of his face, Will’s eyes glinted in amusement, and he turned back toward the field. Morty sent a glance to where Lance was seated at the very front, and he saw that the Champion was using a flat tray meant for food to continue going through his piles of paperwork.

Morty had wanted to sit next to the Champion to see his reactions over this upcoming match, but given Lance was busy, he chose to silently sit in the furthest back row instead.

“This next match involves quite the curious pair,” Will said, following Morty from behind, and the two trainers in the arena moved off the field to make room for the next battle. “A Psychic Type specialist against a Ghost Type specialist. One side with a supposed advantage—or perhaps not? There’s an interesting quirk shared between them, and there’s an interesting number of observers present for this match as well.”

When Morty glanced up to check on Will, he saw that the other man was staring at him, practically begging Morty to ask him to explain.

“Alright. I’ll bite,” Morty said. “Care to explain?”

Will threw his head back for a laugh. He struck a pose with a hand covering his face.

“I’ve helped train both trainers down there!” he said merrily. “And we haven’t had this many people in the room for a match yet! It’s curious—both you and Agatha are newcomers for this battle. Something about a trainer involved, perchance?”

Will tapped his pen to his cheek as he sent a glance to the corner. Hearing the revelation in the strange man’s words, Morty also checked on Agatha.

She refused to acknowledge either of them.

Still, her eyes were solidly locked onto the field, and Morty could tell she was at least listening in. For some reason, she didn’t look as relaxed as usual. Her fingers were ever so slightly more tense on the crown of her cane.

If I’m right, she was the one who prevented Typhlosion’s evolution from being reported.

Though curious, Morty returned to watching the empty field.

“So hold on, you trained them, Will?” Whitney looked up from where she’d been stuffing food into her mouth. She forced herself to swallow her most recent bite. “If you’re an observer, isn’t this a conflict of interest?”

“No, no. No conflict of interest. I’m quite adept at remaining objective,” Will said with a smile that almost seemed to betray his words. “But both called in similar favors. The Ghostly one was more of a coincidence than anything else, but the one so aligned with moi? Well. You’ll never guess what kind of help he wanted.”

“Psychic Type help?” Whitney offered.

“Help with countering super-effective moves, of course,” Will replied happily.

An announcer’s voice echoed through the arena, with a pair of casters sitting in their own, smaller box off to the side. Their words were muffled; color commentary wasn’t needed for the people in this room. But the muted television on the wall did display information on the upcoming competitors. 

Trainer Samuel versus Trainer Nelson.

A Ghost Type specialist versus a Psychic Type specialist.

This would be a second-round match taking place on the main field, set late in the day.

With that, Morty then sent another glance to Agatha.

Curious that this is happening on the main field. Did you put your finger on the scales for this, too?

“Well! I’m certainly interested in the outcome of this match,” Will said. “And I’m certainly interested in why you and Agatha both decided to grace us with your presence at once!”

Will smiled, and Morty stayed silent. When he didn’t answer, Will just casually shook his head with a shrug, and all attention was returned to the field.

Mostly.

“Now then, before we begin, I’ll ask if anyone has any bets for this match,” Will announced while holding up his clipboard.

“A hundred on the Psychic Trainer.”

Morty forced back his disbelief when the Champion himself said that. Lance didn’t even blink, but he didn’t bother to look up from his work, either.

“Ten on the Psychic!”

“Twenty on the Psychic guy!”

“Fifteen on the Ghost!”

Will furiously wrote down all of those numbers. Whitney offered a small sum of her own, too.

And then, from the corner, a single voice echoed out.

“A thousand on the Ghost,” Agatha said.

The room went silent outside of Will’s scribbling, and when Morty turned around, Agatha seemed just as unhappy as ever. She didn’t even look like she had just spoken.

But for some reason, Morty got the strangest sense that he would have seen a slight smile if he had turned around ever so slightly faster.

“I’ll match Lance’s bet but on Sa— the Ghost Trainer, instead,” he said, quickly correcting himself.

Will smiled at his slip-up but still wrote the bet down.

Enough time had passed that the two trainers below had already moved up to the field, and the referee was in the process of restating the rules.

This match would consist of four Pokémon, with trainers having five switches each. Everything was standard, as expected, and when the announcements finished, a pair of Pokéballs were tossed into the air. Two Pokémon were released onto the field.

A clatter came from the front of the room.

Immediately, Lance stood up, knocking his papers to the floor.

“What Pokémon is that?”

His voice was serious. Surprised. Commanding.

Morty laughed nervously.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly.

“It’s a Ghost Type,” Agatha said for him.

With Lance’s sudden alertness, the room was dead silent. The Champion’s eyes did not leave the serpentine Pokémon floating across from the gesturing Mr. Mime.

Champion Lance eventually whispered one thing.

“No. It’s a Dragon.”

And Morty shifted around in his seat, trying to get comfortable.

Turned out, Sam had more surprises in his pocket than Morty would have thought.

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Author Note:

Sam’s preferred lead is Typhlosion, but he can’t just reveal her off the bat like that. He’s trying to win, but given his plans, he needs to involve a bit of showmanship, too.

Pokémon (and people) included in this chapter:
Dragonair
Gastrodon
Mr. Mime
Porygon2
Quagsire
Swampert
Ursaring

Agatha
The Johto League

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