Turns out, leaving us alone in the classroom wasn’t a mistake. Just a minute later, a few second-year students came in and told us there was going to be a battle demonstration at the stadium.

  So now Flavio and I sit on the wide concrete stands with the rest of our class, the mid-morning sun hanging over the open sky. There's an excited hum in the air—whispers, predictions, bets. Even the students who tried to ignore us earlier are buzzing.

  Live battles on day one?

  Now that’s a statement.

  Suddenly, a gust of wind cuts through the stadium as a Pidgeot swoops in from above. It circles once, then lands gracefully in the center of the battlefield. Clinging to its back is none other than Professor Jordan Skywatcher, who leaps off the flying-type with an ease that betrays his age.

  “Greetings, students—old and new,” he calls out, voice echoing through the stadium speakers. “I’m Professor Jordan Skywatcher, head instructor for all battle-related courses here at the academy.”

  He returns Pidgeot to its Pokéball, then walks toward the edge of the field with calm confidence.

  “As is tradition, we open the year with a demonstration from some of our top-ranked students. Think of it as… a preview of what you’re expected to become.”

  Excitement crackles through the crowd. I can feel my heart picking up, and I’m not even the one battling.

  “For our first match, you may recognize the contenders. On the left—last year’s Kanto Rookie Conference champion and top graduate of his class: Leon Frost!”

  A tall, pale-skinned teen with messy white hair steps onto the field, his signature long coat—the graduate uniform—flaring in the breeze. I recognize him from the Kanto finals last year. He looks older now. More focused. Less of the cocky grin, more of the edge.

  “And on the right,” Jordan continues, “runner-up of the Sinnoh Rookie Conference, known for her impeccable control and tactical mind—Layla Allister!”

  The crowd practically explodes—especially the Sinnoh kids. A blonde girl in the female graduate uniform walks calmly onto the field, smiling with quiet confidence. She doesn’t need to wave. She knows exactly how many people are watching her.

  “I heard she only lost the finals because her Altaria was injured before the match,” someone near me whispers. “Her opponent got lucky.”

  The stadium quiets as Jordan lifts one hand.

  “This will be a three-on-three battle. One switch allowed. Victory goes to the trainer who knocks out all three of their opponent’s Pokémon. Trainers—begin.”

  Leon moves first, pointing dramatically.

  “Set the field—Nidorino, let’s go!”

  “Time to play smart, Murkrow,” Layla responds, her tone smooth, almost teasing.

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  Nidorino hits the ground with a stomp, immediately spewing Toxic Spikes across the battlefield.

  I nod—smart opener. He’s prepping for the long game.

  Murkrow, meanwhile, stays airborne, circling above Nidorino. At first, I think it’s just sizing him up. Then I realize—it’s casting Mean Look. The faint shimmer around Nidorino seals it in.

  No switching.

  Then Murkrow lets out a haunting, off-pitch melody. It scrapes at my ears like fingernails on glass. The crowd quiets, some squinting.

  “Perish Song,” I mutter. “That’s... bold.”

  Layla recalls Murkrow immediately after.

  “Dear,” her voice flows through the stadium speakers, clear and poised, “Double Team into Confusion.”

  A Kirlia takes the field, her form flickering as several identical copies appear around her.

  Leon tries to respond, but Kirlia’s eyes are already glowing.

  Confusion slams into Nidorino. He snarls and staggers. The hit’s bad—but the confusion is worse.

  I flinch as he charges at one of the copies and stumbles straight through it. Another miss. He pivots, strikes again—nothing. Then, without warning, he drops.

  “Nidorino is unable to battle!” Jordan announces. “Trainer Leon, send out your second Pokémon.”

  I blink. It wasn’t the confusion. It was Perish Song. That countdown hit zero.

  “Clever,” I whisper.

  Flavio grins. “She’s playing chess, he’s playing checkers.”

  Leon scowls as he returns Nidorino. “You did good, buddy.”

  Without hesitation, he grabs another Pokéball.

  “Let’s go, Forretress! Get rid of those clones—fast!”

  The bug-type slams onto the field and instantly begins spinning, launching into a barrage of Rapid Spins, erasing the Kirlia copies one by one. It’s fast—surprisingly fast.

  Layla’s cool tone cuts through the speakers.

  “Hypnosis. Then Charm.”

  Kirlia’s eyes flare again—but Forretress doesn’t even slow down. The bug-type crashes through the illusions, then barrels into the real Kirlia with a brutal body slam.

  She skids across the field, dazed.

  The crowd winces as the attack is followed by a second spin. Layla tries to recover, but Kirlia can’t get back up.

  “Kirlia is unable to battle!”

  Layla’s calm expression tightens—just slightly—as she recalls her partner.

  “You did well, dear.”

  Then, with a glint in her eyes: “Love, it’s your turn.”

  A Monferno bursts onto the field, spinning into a blazing Flame Wheel—but Leon immediately recalls Forretress.

  “Let’s put on a show, partner!”

  He throws his third Pokéball—and Charmeleon lands with a confident roar.

  I glance toward Jordan. He’s shaking his head slightly, lips pursed. Not impressed.

  Why would Leon send out a fire type against another fire type? He used a Cloyster during the conference, didn’t he?

  Flavio leans over. “That’s ego talking.”

  On the field, the air sizzles.

  “Flamethrower!” Layla commands.

  “Flamethrower!” Leon yells right after.

  Twin jets of flame collide mid-air, roaring as they clash in a searing column of fire.

  For a moment, they’re perfectly matched.

  Then—Charmeleon’s body begins to glow.

  My breath catches.

  “No way,” I murmur.

  Wings burst from its back, its frame elongates, tail flame surging.

  Gasps ripple through the stands.

  Leon’s eyes light up.

  “I knew you were ready,” he says, pride thick in his voice.

  Charmeleon roars—no, Charizard roars—and the power of its Flamethrower doubles. Monferno is blown backward, landing hard.

  Layla tries to recover, calling out attacks, but it’s too late.

  Monferno struggles to stand, legs wobbling, then collapses.

  “Monferno is unable to battle!”

  She sends Murkrow back in—a last-ditch effort—but the firestorm continues. Murkrow doesn’t stand a chance.

  The match ends in a flash.

  “Layla is out of usable Pokémon. Leon Frost is the winner!”

  The crowd cheers—though not as loud as before. The win was decisive, but something feels... off.

  I watch Layla walk off the field, composed but silent. No bitterness. Just thoughtfulness.

  She didn’t lose because she was worse. She just got caught off guard.

  But even with the win, Leon doesn’t smile. He just stands there, staring at his newly evolved Charizard.

  As they leave the field, I sit back, mind buzzing.

  This is the level we’re aiming for.

  Control. Strategy. Power. Luck.

  I’m not there yet—not even close.

  But I will be.

  No battles yet.

  No rankings.

  Just quiet tension and fake smiles.