The Pokémon Center lobby was already humming with early morning traffic when Rhea stepped up to the touchscreen kiosk and tapped through the Gym registration form. Her heart was steady. Not calm—focused.

  “CHALLENGER: RHEA ARDENREGISTERED ID: 84031-KALOSREQUESTED GYM: SANTALUNE CITYCHALLENGE DATE: TODAY”

  She hit submit.

  The screen blinked once. Then the message popped up:

  “Confirmed. Gym Leader Vio will meet challenger at 10:00 AM sharp.”

  No turning back now.

  Benoit stood nearby, arms crossed, a huge grin on his face.

  “So,” he said, “you ready to completely melt her Bug-types into paste?”

  Rhea gave him a look. “Vio’s not some throwaway tutorial boss. She’s fast, tactical, and her Vivillon controls terrain like it’s an extension of her body.”

  Benoit shrugged. “And you’re you. Which means you’ve probably already pnned twelve ways to win and five ways to lose just in case the lighting changes.”

  She smirked. “Only four.”

  He raised a fist. “You got this. And when you do? We’re throwing a party. Big one. Food, music, I might even attempt dancing.”

  “That sounds like a threat.”

  “No—it’s a promise.”

  The Gym arena gleamed under gss-paneled ceilings, letting in beams of sunlight that cut through the misty fog of earlier matches. Spectator benches circled the edge of the battlefield, and the floor itself was textured like a forest—patches of tall grass, logs, and loose stone all intentionally pced to give the battle variety and challenge.

  Vio stood at the opposite end of the field, camera hanging from her neck, hair tied up, one foot casually braced on a ft stone.

  She looked up when Rhea entered, her expression unreadable—until her lips curved into a smile.

  “You’re the girl from yesterday. The note-taker.”

  Rhea nodded. “I take notes when something’s worth learning from.”

  Vio raised an eyebrow. “Confident.”

  “Prepared,” Rhea corrected.

  The referee stepped forward, a clipboard in hand.

  “Standard Kalos League Gym protocol. Two-on-two. No substitutions. No outside items. Challenger may choose the first Pokémon. Gym Leader will respond in kind. Victory determined by full faint of both opponents or forfeit. Any questions?”

  “None,” Rhea said.

  “None,” Vio echoed.

  The referee nodded. “Begin when ready.”

  Rhea stepped forward and pulled out her Poké Ball.

  “Skye, you’re up.”

  In a burst of red light, Fletchling appeared mid-air, wings spread, sunlight catching the edges of her feathers. She chirped once, sharp and eager.

  Vio’s smile widened.

  “Alright then.” She unclipped her Poké Ball. “Let’s give them a proper welcome. Surskit, let’s dance!”

  The small Water/Bug-type materialized on a patch of grass, its spindly legs skimming across the surface with insectoid grace. Its eyes locked onto Skye.

  Rhea narrowed her eyes.

  Just like I thought. Opener is Surskit to soften the terrain and slow the opponent. Water Sport or Bubble expected.

  Vio raised a hand.

  “Surskit—Water Sport!”

  A sudden spray of mist filled the air, coating the terrain in slick moisture. The arena shimmered under it. Fire-type moves would be weakened—useless now—but Rhea didn’t care about Fire.

  She needed air.

  “Skye—Quick Attack, draw a reaction.”

  Skye dove low in a sudden blur of motion, zigzagging between patches of grass. Surskit spun to track her, twitching its limbs.

  “Bubble, front sweep!” Vio called.

  The attack fired—fast, low, spread wide like a shotgun. But Rhea had read that pattern already.

  “Skye, Feint, straight through!”

  Skye cut hard into the bubbles, wings tucked tight, cutting through the spray with a spiral. The impact slowed her—but she didn’t stop.

  She smmed into Surskit’s side. The bug squealed and skidded across the slick ground.

  “Again! Don’t let it reset!”

  Skye whipped back around.

  “Stun it!” Vio snapped. “Use Quick Web!”

  Surskit fired a tight String Shot, the silk glinting in the air like wire—

  “Bank left!” Rhea shouted.

  Skye twisted st second, wings slicing just past the thread. It missed by inches.

  Rhea’s heart spiked. “Now—Peck!”

  Skye looped back, beak glowing with energy, and drove into Surskit’s core. The little Bug-type crumpled with a soft thump.

  The referee raised a fg. “Surskit is unable to battle!”

  Vio recalled it silently. Her smile didn’t fade.

  “Strong coordination,” she said. “But let’s see how long that sts.”

  She pulled her second Poké Ball and tossed it high.

  “Vivillon, capture the moment!”

  Light fshed, and wings unfolded in a blur of color—white and bck patterns fring like sails as Vivillon hovered in pce, elegant and deadly.

  Rhea exhaled slowly. “Return, Skye.”

  She tapped her second ball.

  “Froakie—let’s finish this.”

  Froakie appeared in a ready crouch, eyes narrowing the moment Vivillon entered view.

  Vio didn’t waste time.

  “Stun Spore, spiral pattern!”

  Vivillon burst upward and spun, scattering a haze of golden dust through the air. It caught the light and danced as it descended—hypnotic and dangerous.

  “Don’t engage,” Rhea ordered. “Use Bubble, straight shot, then retreat.”

  Froakie unched the move—popping a stream through the thickening cloud. It cut a line, but Vivillon darted left, wings untouched.

  “Tackle, follow-through!” Vio called.

  Vivillon dove.

  “Intercept with Pound! One-two!”

  Froakie sprang, striking once—then rolled to the side and hit again before Vivillon could fully recover.

  It wasn’t clean. But it nded.

  Vivillon fpped back, shaking off the hit. Its flight dipped—just slightly.

  Vio adjusted.

  “Close the air! Gust, tight circle!”

  Winds erupted, kicking up dust and spores again.

  Rhea bit her lip. If Froakie took that head-on, he’d slow down—maybe freeze up.

  Time to gamble.

  “Bubble burst—wide spread!”

  Froakie pnted both feet, cupped his hands, and fired a scatter shot—bubbles flying in every direction.

  The wind popped several mid-air. Vivillon tried to dodge but caught two full in the chest. Its wings snapped back, and it fell—hard.

  “Finish it—Pound, upward!”

  Froakie leapt, flipped mid-air, and smmed Vivillon straight into the grass with a clean, low thud.

  It didn’t rise.

  Silence.

  Then:

  “Vivillon is unable to battle. The challenger, Rhea, is victorious!”

  Rhea exhaled. Her chest ached from holding her breath. Froakie stood still for a moment—then gnced back and gave a subtle nod.

  She smiled and returned him to his ball.

  Vio stepped forward.

  “Smart reads. Tight control. A few more months, and I wouldn’t want to fight you at all.”

  Rhea took the compliment quietly.

  Vio reached into her jacket and handed over a badge—a shining circle with intricate ridges.

  “The Bug Badge,” she said. “And a TM for Infestation. Keep surprising your opponents. It’s working.”

  Rhea accepted both, fingers tight around the metal.

  Her first badge.

  The real beginning.

  Benoit practically tackled her outside the Gym.

  “YOU DID IT!” he shouted. “That was insane! The dodge, the bubble burst—boom boom bap! You were like, ‘Skye do this,’ and then zip, and then Froakie was all pop pop SMACK!—”

  Rhea raised a hand. “Breath.”

  He sucked in air.

  “I promised a party,” he decred. “So get ready, because tonight, we celebrate.”

  The “party” turned out to be a bench outside the Center, a few bags of Trainer-approved snacks, and a jukebox app pying a lofi remix of the Pokémon Center theme on loop.

  But it was perfect.

  Froakie munched silently on Oran berry bites. Skye perched on the back of the bench, wings outstretched to dry.

  Benoit raised his bottle of lemon soda.

  “To Rhea—the first badge holder of our squad, bug-kicker extraordinaire, and future League champion!”

  Rhea clinked bottles with him.

  “To the next match,” she said.

  Benoit grinned. “Which will be mine, by the way. I’m registering first thing tomorrow.”

  “Good,” she said. “You’re ready.”

  His smile wavered for a second.

  “You think?”

  “I know.”

  That night, as Rhea y in her bunk at the Pokémon Center, she held the Bug Badge between her fingers and stared at it until her eyes finally closed.

  This was just the start.

  But for once, she wasn’t thinking about what came next.

  She was just proud of where she’d arrived.