Fighting 3.20: Grand Trial

  Hala

  February 20, 2020

  There’s snow on the platform. That’s a first. There’s been snow for over two weeks now. Long enough for a deep freeze. The forests on Northern Akala have a volcarona to heat them and a few of the meadows have a half dozen castform, but most of Alola’s tropical plants will be killed by either darkness or frost. And with no plants there’s not food for herbivores. And if the herbivores starve and die then the carnivores follow after. There’s a terrible feeling in your gut that whatever happens today your home might never recover from the necrozma. But that’s all in the future. Depending on how today goes that might be the least of your problems. Instead, you turn to the current one.

  Your opponent cautiously makes her way up the steps to the platform. There’s no railing to help her and the steps are slick with snow. You’d never actually thought about that before; she’s your first blind challenger in the twenty-six years you’ve been kahuna.

  The girl reaches the platform and stands straighter, staring confidently at something a few feet to your left. You clear your throat and her gaze snaps towards you. She’s short with dark skin. Her hair seems to glimmer in the torchlight. There’s a quiver of anxiety (or cold) in her hand while her eyes and posture are full of confidence. It reminds you of someone she’s obviously not.

  You haven’t properly met her. This morning you called the Pokémon Center and told them you were running late and couldn’t do it. You knew this would be harder if you’d talked beforehand.

  “Do you remember the rules of this fight from your friend’s match?” you ask. Said friend is sitting in the small crowd. Almost everyone still in town is there. It’s barely twenty people. They all came out for the last match and the snow festival before it. The kids played in the white fluff while the parents and grandparents shared nervous glances, wondering exactly what it meant. “The bounds of the arena are the edges of the platform and the top of the torches.” They flicker with incineroar-lit flames. Pokémon fire makes a lot more light than normal fire in this unnatural darkness. Elemental something or other. Hau tried to explain it to you but you’re really too old for physics lectures. “Being knocked out of the arena counts as a disqualification. You can switch once. I cannot.”

  She doesn’t ask any questions. You nod towards Greg, today’s ref.

  “This match will be a three-on-three battle between Kahuna Hala Kahue of Iki Town and challenger Cuicatl Ichtaca of Anahuac.” It’s a foreign name. All of your challengers seem to have foreign names these days. Most of them at least grew up here. She did not. “Kahuna, send out your first pokémon.”

  “Ikaika, show her our power!”

  “The kahuna has sent out his machop,” Greg says for Cuicatl’s benefit.

  The challenger taps the great ball on her belt and red light comes streaming out. A lot more red light than you were expecting. And it’s forming up above the arena. A fearow? The red fades and the only light remaining is from the ever-changing flames reflected by sleek floating metal. For a moment you wonder how the girl got a magnezone before she cleared her first trial. Then you see the claws. A metang, then. It’s been years since you fought a metang. Last time was Molayne in ’09.

  Has it been a decade already?

  “Confusion.”

  The air distorts as ripples of psychic energy flow towards Ikaika, stirring up the snow in its path. That’s fine. You’ve dealt with your share of psychic-types.

  “Dark advance.”

  The machop is pushed back when the waves hit him but he stays standing. You can imagine the fierce determination in his eyes as he starts to walk into the waves, slowly at first and then ever faster as darkness surrounds his fists. Knock off has its uses.

  The waves stop. You open your mouth to call for a defensive stance when silvery light pulses through the dark. It strikes Ikaika in the legs and there’s not much you can do as you watch him trip and fall with a dull thud. He quickly pushes himself up, more annoyed than anything, as the metang rises towards the top of the torches and jets away to the opposite side of the platform.

  It reminds you a lot of her friend’s tactics. Most of his pokémon could fly or float and he tried to keep them as high up as he could without being out of bounds. It is a good idea, getting out of a fighting-type’s strike range.

  What most people don’t understand is that fighting types can jump.

  “Knock off, full strength.”

  Ikaika dashes forwards and darkness ripples from his fists. Another beam of light sails towards him but he ducks and slides under it before launching himself up. The metang barely has time to run before Ikaika has grabbed onto one of its arms and started punching its underside over and over again. The hits won’t do much but the dark aura behind them will.

  “Metal claw.” If the girl is worried it doesn’t leak into her voice or posture. She still almost looks like—almost looks like she’s bored. The metang’s other arm begins to glow as it races inward towards Ikaika.

  “Vital throw!”

  The steel-type’s claws connect and you can see the gashes drawn on Ikaika’s side. And then the metang begins to be spun around Ikaika’s small frame. Once. Twice. Its claws reach out for something to hang on to but find no purchase. Then Ikaika lets go and the metang goes sailing into the platform. The wood beneath the impact splinters in a cloud of snow as the pokémon almost goes through.

  It doesn’t count as a ring out.

  Ikaika gracefully lands and starts cautiously walking towards his opponent. You can see blood flowing from his side. He should be rushing in to finish it rather than slowly advancing. Caution might only get him hurt more. It is a lesson he needs to learn. Before you decide if he should learn it now the metang rises out of the floor and twirls around in a fluid 180-degree spin. Ikaika finally starts running forward—

  “Ram.”

  —straight into the charging metang. The steel-type blasts straight towards the edge of the arena. If it sails over with Ikaika in tow then both pokémon lose the round. You’re not sure if it’s worth it to her to trade a metang for a machop. Her mistake. The metang abruptly stops moving a few feet from the edge. Ikaika does not. You watch him desperately try to hold on only to lose his grip on the slick, smooth metal. He goes careening over the platform’s edge while the metang stops right in front of it.

  “The Kahuna’s machop is out of bounds. The round goes to the challenger.”

  Iakika is usually the one to ring out opponents with a vital throw. This is going to wound his pride. At least it’s a good teachable moment.

  You withdraw the machop as soon as he jumps back onstage. The metang floats back to its trainer and hovers a few feet in front of her. Any wounds are in its mind or on its underside. Both are hard to assess. It seems to be moving slower now than it did before, but that might just be because there isn’t an enemy on the field. You idly wonder what she has up next. Maybe a butterfree given her interview, but VStar trainers tend not to keep their pokémon for long. Is she a psychic or steel specialist? If she’s a steel specialist than this should be pretty easy after her metang gets knocked out. If she’s a psychic specialist than it might only get harder from here.

  “Nalu, come out.”

  “The kahuna has sent out his crabrawler.”

  The girl whispers something and metang immediately shifts up and back to the very edge of the arena. Nalu is almost always the one you have use your z-move and all the challengers these days know it thanks to the web. If the metang is by the edge than any hit might send them both sailing out of bounds. It’s a clever tactic. But you weren’t born yesterday.

  “Get in close.”

  Nalu starts scuttling but… he’s not getting close. You squint and see stirring snow and rippling air in front of him gently pushing him off course as he tries to scuttle sideways. The metang slowly drifts away at the same time to stay well out of Nalu’s way. It’s not nearly enough speed for it to count as fleeing for pursuit. The girl smirks.

  You wonder if there are crabrawler in Anahuac. Probably not. If there were she’d know that they can scuttle forwards. Nalu remembers before you can even give the order. Good. If the girl can’t see it she can’t adapt. “Crabhammer.”

  The girl’s eyes widen and her jaw drops a little. “Move!”

  Nalu swipes into the air, water rushing around his pincers. He goes wide as the metang rushes away. You crack a smile. No matter how many times this sort of thing happens it always feels satisfying to pull off. “Pursuit.”

  The air ripples as purple shadows rush through it and slam straight into the metang’s back. The steel-type tries to turn around but Nalu stays latched on to the spike on its back with a pincer.

  “Chaaaaaaaarge up!” you bellow. Theatrics are half the fun of your job. They make losing more bearable and winning more fun. The metang starts to quickly spin around in place but Nalu hangs on, one pincer coming up to bash into his enemy’s underside. Once. Twice. Three, four, five times, every hit getting stronger and faster as the power-up-punch goes on. You tap your bracelet and clear your mind. You punch the air and feel the power of ages gone by flood into your body. Your father went through these steps. And his father before him. On and on for generations of faithful servants to Tapu Koko. War is in your veins. All you have to do is give it a task and let it out.

  Brilliant light surrounds Nalu as he finally lets go. Before the metang can react a glowing fist strikes it one more time on the back and sends it rocketing up past the torches’ reach.

  “The challenger’s metang is out of bounds. This round goes to the kahuna.”

  There’s a very visible dent on the metang’s back when it slowly floats past you. The girl holds her hand out and runs it over the metal once her pokémon returns to her side. Her fa?ade cracks again as she envelops the metang in a hug and whispers something you can’t hear.

  Sarah, the town’s nurse, takes the pokéball as soon as its occupant is withdrawn.

  “Mitzcocotonaz, time to level up to your name.” The red light fades and reveals her next pokémon. It’s bipedal and comes up to her thigh. Its jaws are really big for its size but its arms are fairly small. A small cape of white feathers extends down its back. Reptilian, whatever it is. You don’t recognize the species. Too many invasives to keep track of these days. If it’s a dragon then crabhammer won’t do too much damage. Power-up-punch is a little unnecessary at this point. Dizzy punch it is, then.

  “Get in there and use dizzy punch!”

  Nalu races into motion as the girl snaps her fingers.

  “Roar, Coco!”

  The reptile rears back its head and bellows. Its an awful sound, like the grinding of rocks mixed with a low groan. It reminds you a little bit of krokorok come to think of it. And its scale colors are similar to a krookodile’s as well. Nalu falters and falls over. The confusion earlier must have set him a little off balance. The reptile immediately charges. Straight past Nalu. His pincers face forward.

  Clever girl.

  “Pursuit.”

  The crabrawler whirls around in a spiral of darkness. He dashes forward with far more speed than he should be capable of. The darkness dissipates and he raises one claw up to grab hold of his opponent. The reptile stops, glances back, and bats him away with a powerful tail swipe. Too powerful given the distance Nalu flies. Almost to the edge of the arena.

  Dragon tail. No more approaching from behind.

  Nalu rushes back in and the dragon regards him warily. They meet on opposite sides of the splintered crater in the wood. Nalu scuttles to the side to get around the obstacle but you whistle at him to slow down. If he can’t approach directly over the impact he has to go around. One side puts him in range of dragon tail and a possible ring out. The other brings him right to the dragon’s maw. Neither is appealing.

  “Keep circling,” the girl says. The tyrunt starts moving, slowly, to stay on the opposite side of the wood. The girl for her part has her eyes closed and seems lost in thought. Well, if she isn’t going to break the stalemate falls to you. Which is worse: tail or jaw? Tail risks immediate disqualification by ring out. Jaw there’s a good chance that Nalu’s exoskeleton holds. It’s hard to get a good look at the dragon’s teeth to see if they’re piercing or crushing. Piercing is bad, crushing is good.

  You’ll take the gamble.

  “Dizzy punch, head on.”

  “Fire fang.”

  Nalu scuttles around, slightly twirling his pincers in the air while the dragon’s mouth lights up in flames. At the last second it dashes forward, jaws spread wide, as Nalu bring his pincer around.

  They collide at the same time. The dragon clamps down on Nalu’s shell right before it takes a fist to the side. Your opponent holds on, sparks flying across the crabrawler’s carapace. It clamps tighter as Nalu panics, ineffectually bashing the dragon with weak and desperate hit after weak and desperate hit. There’s a cracking sound and you see Nalu’s shell shift ever so slightly.

  You withdraw him immediately. Small shell fractures aren’t fatal. He’ll just have to molt.

  The dragon begins to stumble back to its trainer, swaying from side to side along the way. Then its legs get tangled and it falls in a heap. The dizzy punch worked. The girl sighs. “I’m using my switch. Good work, Coco. I’m proud of you.” The dragon chirps in happiness before dissolving into light.

  A keokeo promptly takes the dragon’s place. They puff themselves up and dismissively look away from you. They practically radiate pride and aloofness. The vulpix are the princes and princesses of Mauna Lanakila and they know it. You idly wonder how she got it. VStar occasionally sends trainers to try and catch the rejects left at the bottom of the mountain. Many get ferried away to live out their lives in glorified cages far, far away from their homes.

  You reach for your final pokéball.

  Time to push out any regret you might feel. You have to do this. The keokeo should be all the proof you need.

  *

  September 2019

  You watched something good happen back in February. The grubbin had been declining for years now, especially since people figured out how good they were on the battlefield. Two years back the legislature had banned their capture but left an exception for kids on the island challenge. You approved of that. Your grandfather used one on his journey. Blasted through the birds and psychic-types that would’ve hurt most of his team.

  Then the Unovan came in and found a loophole: if kids on the island challenge caught grubbin and immediately sold them to him, well, that was perfectly legal. Rumor had it that he made the company in the first place because he wanted a vikavolt of his own and the DNR had told him no.

  He did not like being told ‘no.’

  The decline in grubbin numbers was worse than ever. For a while you were afraid they might go the way of the ‘inu?ēheu. Then in February the legislature came through and prohibited island challengers from selling their grubbin unless they actually completed the challenge. Now you’re here with a simple proposition: apply that to everything else. Tell Chris Foster ‘no’ once more.

  He didn’t even bother showing up for the debate on the bill. He just sent a pretty haole woman in a sharp suit to answer his questions. She is admittedly good at her job. Came prepared with statistics on youth poverty and island challenge dropout rates. You’d known for a while that more people said they quit the challenge due to lack of cash than said they dropped out because it was too hard. Those things were always the same to you. The strong paid their way with tournament prize money won from the weak. You did it back in the day. Sure, most kids couldn’t afford the fanciest gear, but your ancestors never needed it. The kids can do without.

  The haole girl tries to spin it as being good for your people: throws up slick charts and photos showing that child poverty in kanaka communities puts them at a disadvantage on the island challenge, blocking them off from their own heritage. She doesn’t mention the scholarship fund. There are at least fifteen opportunities for $100 or more for disadvantaged kids. A lot of smaller ones, too. The motivated and dedicated can pay their way through without selling their ‘āina away piece by piece.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Then it’s on to the benefits of cleaning up invasive species. One legislator – Hoku, an old friend of yours – asks if VStar would be fine with a bill that only protected native species. She deflects, pulling up pictures of toxapex-ravaged reefs. That seems to get a few nods of sympathy. Sellouts who hate the ugly wounds toxapex leave on the coral more than the good they do for the ecosystem. You were never winning with them anyway.

  She finishes testifying. Then there are the heartfelt testimonials. Older folks talking about how the islands have changed and how they might change further. Ecologists with dire warnings. A man who uses his lycanroc to detect oncoming seizures and wants to make sure his friend’s wild cousins are protected. They get a lot more praise and thanks than the VStar woman did.

  Then the votes come. It starts strong – two votes for the bill. And then everything goes wrong. Legislator after legislator votes it down. You glare at some of them from the balcony. One meets your gaze and promptly looks away.

  You corner him later, once the session has adjourned, and ask him why on earth he would vote for a bill he wasn’t proud of. There are a few rounds of bullshit, most of its sounding suspiciously like the VStar woman’s testimony.

  He finally breaks down and mutters softly. “They have a big PAC, you know, and I’m in for a tough election as it is.”

  And that’s that. Not all of the legislatures are cowards too absorbed in their self-interest to do what is right, but 61 out of 100 are.

  *

  That was almost half a year ago now. The tapu have grown more and more displeased. If the legislature won’t do something about it then it falls to you to send your own message to today’s youth: if you ever want to pass the island challenge, think twice before catching and exporting the pokémon you share Alola with.

  You know all of that. It doesn’t mean you’re thrilled to crush a girl’s dreams. But she’s a spokesman for the company and… it’s for her own good, anyway.

  “Inoa, take the field.”

  A pungent smell and a shrill war cry mark her entrance.

  Greg looks at you in surprise and you can hear the mutters in the small crowd. You stare forward as stoically as you can, only giving the ref a small nod. You’re committed to this.

  “The, uh, the kahuna has sent out his hawlucha.”

  It feels like the world skips a beat. The girl’s mana flares to life, surprisingly intense for a blind child, and you can feel it swirling around you. Her face twists into a snarl before she schools it into an impassive mask.

  “You shouldn’t have that,” she says. Her voice is perfectly even but it feels like there’s danger underneath. It’s hard to describe why. “They belong to Huitzilopochtli.” She slowly raises a hand to her left breast and mimes grabbing it. “When they are taken it makes him very…” The girl rips her hand away from her chest violently and squeezes it, feigning resistance. Like she was crushing her heart. “…upset.”

  The display is almost enough for you to think of her as a threat.

  “You have a vulpix, correct? Perhaps you should not speak on these matters.” The keokeo starts growling in response.

  The girl’s eyes narrow and she crosses her arms. On the battlefield the keokeo inhales and the winds still. For a moment it feels like the air itself is holding its breath. The winds return and lash you with frozen air. All the loose fabric on your clothes is picked up and tossed by the wind as Inoa shrieks in front of you.

  “Power through! Submission!”

  Inoa screeches and you see her powerful muscles tense back and release as she launches forwards through the air. The winds slow her down, but not enough. She grabs ahold of the keokeo and starts twisting around in midair above the wooden platform. With every spin she holds the keokeo out and bashes it into the wood. White and red snow flies up with every impact. Then Inoa stops abruptly and jumps away to one of the torch posts at the edge of the platform. A faint white light fades from the keokeo’s eyes. The girl flinches away in concern, either for her pokémon or for getting hit herself.

  “Again!” You call. The hawlucha shakes her head and makes a shrill whistle. She can’t.

  Disable. That’s what the light was.

  For a moment you’re tempted to use encore. Force the vulpix to keep using disable while Inoa steadily knocks them out with aerial ace. Shouldn’t take too much more: the fox’s fur is already filled with splinters of wood and streaks of blood. No. Then submission would be out for a long time. It’s Inoa’s strongest move and you’ll want it available to face the dragon. The girl snaps and the choice is made for you. The air around the keokeo shimmers before a rainbow pulses towards Inoa. She moves without orders, leaping to action as the winds spiral around her wings. The aurora beam barely clips her and she just sails through. She lands feet first in a dive kick. The fox hisses in pain as they’re sent rocketing back along the platform floor. More splinters dig into their body with every foot. This is why you only use the platform a trainer’s first grand trial. You might need to replace the whole thing at this rate.

  Your thoughts are interrupted by a shrill, oscillating cry as the keokeo screams in indignation. Their tails are fluffed out and sticking straight out as they bare their teeth and use roar. Inoa reflexively leaps back to one of the corner posts and turns to you for advice. Thankfully, you know just the thing.

  “Encore.”

  Inoa makes a frightful grin and begins to chant, hands clapping together as she grips the post with her feet. A moment later she drops down to the floor and starts doing a war dance, defiant in the face of the keokeo’s roar. And for their part the fox is baited into roaring even louder. She couldn’t stop now if she wanted to. That gives you time.

  “Let up and strike when you can use submission again.”

  For a solid minute the scene is quite amusing. The fox is howling with an increasingly hoarse and cracking voice while the hawlucha taunts them from the edge of the platform. The girl tightens her arms around herself as her glare grows absolutely murderous. You just wait. Time is on your side. Suddenly the screaming stops. The girl stumbles again and almost falls back onto the stairs before she catches herself. Odd. Maybe she just slipped on the snow. The keokeo readies another burst of cold air just as Inoa puffs her feathers out. She rockets straight into the wind. It slows her down more this time but she breaks through and grabs hold of the fox by the scruff. She barrels forward and pounds the keokeo into the platform three times while spinning in the air. Then her target is released. They soar free for a second before slamming into a torch pole. There’s an audible crack before the keokeo falls back to the ground with a dull thud. She doesn’t move.

  Sarah rushes forward and presses a hand to the vulpix’s side. You try not to look at the girl but you still catch sight of her face in the corner of her eyes. All the anger is gone and she looks much paler than she did before. Her eyes are wide open and her lips are twitching at the edges. “Pixie…” she whispers. “No…”

  Someone else flashes into your mind. Erin, the daughter of Edith, a groomer and gardener who lives in town. She was full of determination when she went off to take on the island challenge, maybe even the new League. You thought she might even make it all the way. She was clever and full of will. It didn’t take her long at all to clear three grand trials and headed off to Poni Island.

  There was a guzzlord waiting for her there.

  You had to walk across town to Edith’s home. Iki Town has always felt like such a small place. It’s why you love it. But as you walked across town that afternoon it seemed to be twice as wide as Hau’oli. Edith was in the garden behind her house when you arrived. She was smiling, full of life, asked you if you wanted anything to drink. Then she saw your face. For a moment she knew there was bad news, but she didn’t know how bad. Maybe Edith was injured. Maybe she’d just given up.

  Instead, you had to tell her that there wouldn’t be a body to burn at the funeral.

  You want to stop all of the kids. It’s not safe anymore. You and your peers failed them. But you have duties from Tapu Koko. Traditions to uphold. At least the kanaka have to be given a chance. But the VStar trainers, the foreigners, both… you can send a message to their boss and maybe even save their lives at the same time.

  It’s better that their dreams are crushed by you and not an Ultra Beast.

  You would send out Inoa again.

  You regret nothing.

  “Withdraw her, please.” Sarah says. “I need to get her to the Center. Now.”

  The girl complies and hands the ball, some fancy white one with snowflake patterns etched into the side, to Sarah. She dashes away. One of the townspeople sends out a torracat to run beside her and light the path.

  The girl’s hand reaches for her final pokéball, the one that has the dragon within. Her fingers slide off of it before she pulls them away.

  “I forfeit,” she mutters. “Keep your damn bird.”

  Someone boos in the crowd. You ignore them and walk back off the platform. Inoa trails along behind you. Greg rushes to your side as soon as your feet hit the grass. “Are you insane?” he whisper-hisses. “Using a hawlucha on a first grand trial?”

  “She’s already cleared four trials.” He purses his lips. That wasn’t good enough for him. “And Inoa’s a young hawlucha, anyway.”

  “Even Selene pulls her punches better than this. And she’s ranked.”

  Your stomach twists inside you when he says the champion’s name. Greg keeps lecturing you as you walk towards your home. Stays with you until you’re outside the torchlight and walking solely on memory. You barely hear a word of it.

  “Selene’s in space right now,” you finally say. “Fighting a living star.”

  “And, uh, what does that have to do with…?”

  “What would have happened if I’d sent out a hariyama when she first showed up for a grand trial?” you muse aloud. “Would she have given up? And if she’d given up, would she be up there right now? Would any of this mess fallen onto a child’s shoulders?”

  He doesn’t answer the question. Right as you’re about to take the last few steps to your home he asks one of his own. “You have a job. You know that right?”

  You grunt, unsure where he’s going with this.

  “If you can’t do the job anymore, maybe you should let your grandson have it.”

  “That’s the Tapu’s call. Not yours.”

  You shut the door on him before he can come up with a reply.

  It takes you a while to drop your pokémon off at the Center. None of their wounds were so bad they needed immediate treatment and you’d rather not deal with Sarah so soon after Greg tried to tell you off. Even if they’re right—which they aren’t—you’re too old to put up with back-to-back lectures. And too old to go right back into the cold, too. Your home has a wood-burning furnace that’s kept your old bones warm in these dark, cold days.

  *

  A pleasant bell chimes to announce your arrival to the Pokémon Center. The inkay lighting the room turns towards you for a moment before she goes back to telekinetically picking apart a stapler.

  The girl and her friends are sitting down in the lobby. The boy shoots you a wicked glare but stays seated, his arm wrapped around the girl. You aren’t even sure the girl notices your presence. Sarah is nowhere to be found. Probably for the best. You place your pokéballs in the drop-off chute and leave undisturbed.

  The door stays open after you close it. You turn around to see that the boy has followed you out. He just glares at you until the door finally shuts behind him.

  “The fuck was that for?”

  Blunt and crass. It reminds you a little of… someone else you couldn’t save.

  “Someone has to stop VStar before the Tapu do. Might as well be me.”

  He scoffs. “You didn’t pull that shit on me. Just let me through with a standard fight.”

  “Catch the grubbin, kill the carbink: if you throw away your people’s rights and responsibilities, that’s your business.”

  He blinks and the anger seems to leach out. “Kill the carbink?”

  “You catch yours for them?”

  “No.”

  “But you’ve thought about selling him?”

  “Yes,” he admits in a whisper. He looks away from you, unwilling to maintain eye contact. Amazing what a few questions can do.

  “They figured out how to kill them without the crystals crumbling. VStar bids the corpses off to jewelry stores or computer manufacturers.”

  He stares at you for a moment in disbelief. He should have known this. They’ve been caught culling pokémon before, although they’ve gotten better at “only” selling them to third-parties who will kill them themselves.

  “I didn’t know that,” he says. “And I won’t give mine to them. Or any pokémon if they don’t want to go or I think they’d be treated badly.”

  “Good.” It’s almost the bare minimum, but still a step in the right direction. “You could also stop giving them pokémon in the first place.”

  He tenses up before relaxing. “Look, I get it, I want to, read the stuff you gave me, but I don’t know if the money works.”

  “There’s always tournament.”

  “It isks losing what I do have and still doesn’t pay enough for food and supplies. Not for a team that can take down Lunala at the end of the challenge. Especially not if your traveling partner has a thing for carnivores.”

  You don’t tell him that he might not have to face the Lunala if things go badly today. The kid’s face hardens again as he remembers why he followed you out.

  “But none of that justifies sending out hawlucha on a first grand trial. That’s just asking for someone’s pokémon to get hurt. Which, surprise, happened.” Hurt, not killed. Good.

  “Unfortunate.” He keeps glaring but doesn’t challenge your non-answer. “But if I don’t try to stop VStar, Tapu Koko might. That could be… messy.” It takes you a moment to realize he would’ve been seven or eight when Tapu Bulu destroyed a village and caused most of western Ula’Ula’s to evacuate.

  “You won’t stop Alolans, though?”

  You shake your head and cross your arms. “I told you before that you can make your own mistakes.”

  “Was Queen Lannah’s decree right?”

  An atoll collapsed into the sea after a very bad storm. An absol had warned them beforehand and some of them managed to sail away before their home was destroyed. The survivors eventually found their way to Alola but the king refused to let them land. They built a city on floating planks just offshore. A century later Queen Lannah briefly managed to unify the islands. She invited the seafolk to come to shore and live on land because they no longer had a land of their own. She later extended it to cover the Skychildren. Fallers, as they’ve taken to calling themselves these days.

  Her son revoked the decree, but a lot of the hospitality code descends from it. The hospitality code was also revoked when Alola fell to invited traders and missionaries. You don’t know what he’s getting at.

  “It’s the same principle: people who have no other home can claim Alola as theirs. And… I don’t think Cuical has a home. A safe one, at least.” His voice lowers to a near whisper. “No one’s ever called her. She’s deep in debt and… she sometimes flinches around adults. Said that her dad once pierced her tongue with a cactus spike. Seemed to think that was normal. I don’t think home is safe for her.”

  A bent golf club and a bug trainer you failed come to mind.

  “You know your history.”

  His frown flickers to a smile before being beaten back.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll think on it,” you say.

  He rolls his eyes. “If you just walk away and ignore me then you can’t just wipe the blood off your hands if something happens.”

  You walk away and ignore him. He doesn’t follow.

  Doesn’t he understand? It’s not safe here for the people or the pokémon. You’re protecting them both. That is your duty. Even if you dislike it.

  Oh, to be young, na?ve, and powerless. To live without responsibility weighing you down. You miss it more with every passing day.

  You make your way back to the stage. The torchlights are still flickering down, although someone did extinguish the flame on the pole the keokeo hit. It’s still enough light to inspect the platform with. The torch pole seems fine. You run a hand up and down it and can’t feel any cracks. Just… a slick spot. You wipe the blood off on your pants and continue. It’s hard to tell where the smaller damaged spots might be because the wind has already covered them up again with snow. There’s one visible hole where the metang went through. It seems bigger now than it did in the heat of battle. A lot of the wood will need replaced. You should also take Ikaika off your normal first grand trial team.

  He can stay on the VStar one. You won’t be doing those matches on the ceremonial platform anymore. Lesson learned.

  The hair on your arms stands up as a wave of static fills the clearing. You slowly turn around and kneel before Tapu Koko, God of War and Thunder, Protector of Melemele. Your boss. The god hovers in place, looking down at you as his shields steadily rise and fall at his sides.

  “Did I do the right thing or not?” you ask. Your knee is starting to hurt and Tapu Koko has never been one for silent reflection in all the years you’ve known him.

  The Tapu’s voice sounds like growling thunder in your mind. “Have you declared war on Victory’s army?”

  “Kahunas lost that power centuries ago.” You try to keep your response even. It makes perfect sense that an ancient war god thinks of sabotaging a corporation as declaring a war. It’s his only frame of reference.

  “Not as far as I am concerned.” He says it so casually you almost wonder if he knows about the conquest. “There are rules for kahunas declaring war. I am sure you remember them.”

  You do. He was very thorough during that part of your job training. Even at the time you’d thought it was a little ridiculous.

  “Challenge my enemy to a duel, each warrior with one pokémon fighting alongside them.”

  He hums approvingly. “I would fight alongside you if you challenged Victory. That is a worthy fight.” And the children are not, he says by omission.

  You want to tell him that just because you can beat up the company’s CEO doesn’t mean that any of the problems will stop. That the last Alolan leader who tried to duel a corporate executive ended up deposed and exiled. Gage didn’t even have the god of victory on his side.

  “I understand. Thank you for gracing me with your presence.”

  He nods before rocketing away in the blink of an eye. You slowly get to your feet and ignore the pain in your knee. You’re still in good shape for your age, but a lifetime of training has started to take its toll on your body. Hau stands ready to take over if you made the case to the Tapu but… you don’t want to put this on him. Not until you have to.

  *

  After a quick walk back home you find yourself at the Pokémon Center again. Your last two challengers aren’t in the lobby this time, but Sarah is. She glances up at the ringing bell and immediately narrows her eyes.

  “You’re real lucky you didn’t do irreversible damage. I’d have written you up, even if you are kahuna.”

  “Hawlucha pull their punches. It probably looked worse than it was.”

  She scoffs. “Oh no, it was plenty bad. A half dozen pieces of wood stuck in her side and two broken ribs. If she’d hit the pole with her back instead of her side she could’ve been paralyzed. I don’t know what got into you today, but it’s not happening again.”

  You take your stamp and a z-crystal out of your bag and put them on the table. She glances at them before looking back to you, eyebrow raised. “Change of heart.”

  Sarah nods. “I’ll pass them along.”

  “Have you looked over my team yet?”

  “No, but they seemed fine. Just give Nalu time to molt.” She scowls again. “And stop having your pokémon throw opponents into the platform. You have ring out rules, so use them.”

  She’s interrupted by the sound of the sky shattering. You look up just as the shockwave rattles the building. The bell rings like crazy and a paperweight falls off of Sarah’s desk. You run outside and look up. The cracks in the sky seem to be glowing brighter than ever and quickly getting wider and wider. There’s another blast like a bomb going off and all of their light abruptly disappears.

  The world is unusually silent for a moment. No pokémon, no voices, no footsteps. Did something go wrong? Did Necrozma take sound, too?

  The air seems to catch fire as light streams down. You reach down to your oldest partner’s belt, prepared to send the hariyama out to do—something—when the rumbling in the sky stops and the light balances out save for one small sphere of incandescent fire.

  The sun.

  It takes you a moment to realize that the light isn’t blinding or burning, it’s just… normal. You quickly take your jacket off and keep staring up into the sky. A small wormhole opens up to the southwest, probably over Poni Island. For the first time in weeks you smile. It’s a small one at first but soon you’re grinning ear to ear like a maniac. Maybe the country is still doomed by one thing or another, but for the first time in ages things are going right.

  *

  The Solstice festival was ruined, but this one might as well take its place. All the remaining residents have come out for a feast. You ask what you can do but Janet politely turns you away, insisting that everything’s covered. She’s unusually terse. Probably still mad about the battle. She never liked battling in the first place. She even signed a few petitions for Plasma’s Alola branch back in the day. You don’t think she’s apologized for it, either.

  Some others keep their distance as well. You catch Greg scowling at you once or twice before he looks back to his kids frolicking in the fully illuminated snow. The challenger and her friends spend most of their time at the very edge of the celebration, talking amongst themselves while occasionally glowering at you. The girl never seems to move much. Barely even touches her food. Part of you wants to help her, to invite her to play a game or tell stories until she stops crying. You’re kahuna and that’s what kahunas do with sad kids. That’s what Hala does. But that’s not what you did. She’s crying because of you and you can’t bring yourself to apologize to her face. Maybe what you did was wrong, but she’s hardly any better.

  Edith is one of the only people to seek you out. She sits down on the bench next to you with stiff movements. She’s still young, barely fifty, but she’s slowed down a lot since her daughter died. In the full light you realize that she’s stopped dying her hair. It’s all gone gray. When did that happen?

  “I know what you’re going for,” she says quietly. “But the kids won’t stop. An old man trying to block them from doing something will only make them want to do it more.”

  Neither of you says anything after that, letting things lapse into slightly uncomfortable silence. Judith’s youngest daughter is packing snow onto her melting snowman, desperately trying to prop it up. When her parents finally call her a way she looks back over her shoulder at her drooping, doomed creation before reluctantly running off.

  Maybe you’re the snowman, worn down by the world and on its last legs. Or maybe you’re the child, desperately trying to prop up something good that will be worn away whatever you do. You don’t know. But if you are the child, you’re still going to try and keep Alola going. You swore to Tapu Koko that you would protect this island and those who lived on it, and you’ll give everything, even your honor, to do it. Better to give everything and fail than to glance back over your shoulder, wondering if one more step was all the world needed.