Once you've made a name for yourself, the world starts feeling smaller.
At least, Kashiwagi hadn't expected Tyson (Tetsuya) to recognize him—let alone learn that Tyson had a younger sister who was one of his biggest fans.
"Let's... go somewhere else to talk," Kashiwagi said.
Noticing the curious gazes drifting their way, he decisively turned and led Tyson away from the bustling Pokémon Center lobby.
As they exited, the automated chime of the Rotom-powered system echoed in his ears.
"Have a lovely day, Rotom~"
Outside, thanks to the massive distraction caused by Glacia's (Purim) presence nearby, no one paid much attention to the two of them.
Kashiwagi pulled a notepad from his pocket, scribbled his name, and tore off the page.
"Will this do?"
"Thank you so much!" Tyson took the paper, his face lighting up.
"Ah! If it wouldn't be too much trouble, could I... get a photo of you and Mawile?"
He pulled out his phone, looking a bit sheepish.
It was clear he wasn't the type to go chasing celebrities, but for his sister's sake, he was swallowing his embarrassment and making the request.
"Sure. But I have a favor to ask in return," Kashiwagi said, glancing toward where Glacia had been.
The Elite Four's popularity was overwhelming. Even if he rushed over, the chances of getting a real battle were slim.
Challenging a former League Champion like Tyson was a perfect alternative. He had already decided which Pokémon to field for his own upcoming challenges, so picking three powerhouses for a friendly spar was easy.
Tyson didn't hesitate.
"A favor? Just tell me what you need, and I'll do it!"
"Don't worry, I just want a battle. You're a former League Champion, right? I've always wanted to test my skills against someone like you," Kashiwagi said softly.
Tyson blinked, stunned, then scratched the back of his head, looking bashful.
"A battle? Of course! But I can't claim the title of 'Champion.' I'm just a winner of a regional League Conference."
"A winner is still a massive achievement."
As he replied, Kashiwagi released Mawile.
"Help your little fan out with a photo," he murmured to her.
"Mawile~"
Mawile nodded with a graceful, reserved smile.
She had mastered the art of "fan service" a long time ago. She could pinpoint the camera lens with professional precision.
Even when Tyson's hands shook with nervous energy, turning the two men into blurry silhouettes, Mawile remained poised and elegant, effortlessly carrying the frame.
"This..." Tyson looked at the photo on his screen, looking troubled. He wondered if he should just submit this one to get by.
"Mind if I take it?" Kashiwagi offered.
He took the phone and, in one swift motion, snapped a perfectly clear, well-composed picture of two of them.
As someone who spent half his life curating high-quality (and hilariously candid) photos of his Pokémon team, he had an eye for it.
Tyson's face beamed when he saw the clear result.
"I can't thank you enough!"
He shuddered to think what his sister would have done if he'd come back with a blurry mess after finally meeting her idol.
The two chatted briefly and agreed on a 3-on-3 single battle.
But before starting, Kashiwagi needed to book his challenge at the Mauville Gym.
Since Tyson was waiting for his Meowth to finish treatment, the timing worked out perfectly.
On the way to the Gym, Kashiwagi asked Mawile if she wanted a smartphone. He'd noticed her interest in taking photos and selfies lately.
"Mawile?"
Mawile's eyes sparkled. She loved looking at photos of herself, and she spent plenty of time flipping through the albums on Kashiwagi's phone.
But then, she slumped, remembering she lacked the hands—or the technical know-how—to operate human gadgets.
Kashiwagi laughed.
"Don't worry about that. Did you forget about Porygon? Just tell Porygon what you want to do, and I'm sure it can customize the interface for you."
"Mawile!"
Mawile's eyes went wide. She'd totally forgotten they had an AI "expert" on the team.
So, I can actually have my own phone?
She couldn't help but do a little skip, her hair and the giant jaws behind her head bouncing with her.
She looked like a joyous little rabbit, humming, "Mawile~ Mawile~" Then, she caught a passerby staring, instantly swapped back to a prim, ladylike stride.
A lady had to remain composed in public.
Ten minutes later, Kashiwagi returned to the Pokémon Center to meet Tyson.
"Sorry for the wait."
"It's fine, my Meowth just finished treatment. Since Elite Four Glacia's exhibition battle just ended, why don't we use that field?"
"Ended already?"
Kashiwagi looked around, realizing the crowd that had been bottlenecked near the central park was already dispersing.
Fast. That's the Elite Four for you—sweeping through ordinary trainers like they're cleaning up common grunts.
Tyson looked a bit guilty.
"I happened to run into Elite Four Glacia at the food court earlier. I got a little over-excited and asked for a battle. I feel terrible for causing her such a hassle."
"Food court?"
"Yeah! She ordered the Mauville Mixed Noodles—the extra-large bowl! Seeing her polish off the whole thing in record time... it was truly impressive."
"Extra-large bowl..."
Kashiwagi tried to picture the elegant, ice-queen Glacia, dressed like a noblewoman, burying her face in a steaming pile of noodles.
If I'd come earlier, I might have caught that. He felt a bizarre pang of regret.
When they reached the arena, a few trainers were still lingering, looking disappointed that they hadn't gotten a turn.
When they saw Kashiwagi and Tyson take their places on the trainer platforms, they immediately crowded back in.
They couldn't see the Elite Four battle, but a match featuring a former League winner? That was well worth the wait.
Suddenly, a Rotom-Drone buzzed down from the sky.
"This battle will be judged by Rotom, Rotom~" it chirped, hovering high above with a self-important drone.
The two trainers exchanged confused glances.
"Did you call it?"
"No, did you?"
Tyson shook his head violently.
He might be a Mauville local, but he had no idea how to summon a professional New Mauville broadcast drone to act as an impromptu referee.
Fortunately, the drone answered for itself: "Traveler, I will prove to you that Rotom is not a troublesome Pokémon, but a brilliant one, Rotom!" It addressed Kashiwagi directly.
"Ah! It's you!"
Kashiwagi instantly remembered the glitchy Rotom from earlier.
He hadn't realized it had followed them all the way here, let alone repurposed itself into a broadcast drone.
Well, if it's acting as a judge… Kashiwagi thought, glancing at the Poké Ball containing Porygon.
The ball remained silent—either Porygon was deep in rest or stubbornly ignoring the competition.
"I'll leave it to you, then."
The Rotom-Drone beamed.
"Leave it all to me, Rotom~"
...
"A 3-on-3 single battle is about to commence! Will both sides please send out their first Pokémon!" the drone's voice boomed across the park.
Kashiwagi and Tyson reached for their belts.
"No holding back. Give me your absolute best—please," Kashiwagi said with a respectful nod.
"Don't worry," Tyson grinned.
"I don't even know how to go easy."
"BEGIN!"
Two Poké Balls flew forward in unison.
Pop! Pop!
Light erupted on the field.
"Sceptii!"
A deep-green, bipedal lizard landed gracefully, its tail a massive, lush bush of leaves. The Forest Pokémon, Sceptile.
It tilted its head, eyeing the dull, greyish-white pebble sitting on the opposite side of the field. A small question mark seemed to hover over its crest.
Is... is that a Pokémon too?
"That's a Galarian Corsola, a Ghost-type! Stay alert!" Tyson shouted, reciting the data from his Pokédex.
"Use Agility!"
"Sceptii!"
Sceptile's eyes narrowed. It crouched and bolted forward.
WHOOSH!
Dust erupted in its wake!
Fueled by the Agility boost, Sceptile moved with terrifying speed, leaving streaks of afterimages behind it.
It crossed ten meters in a heartbeat, appearing instantly before the Corsola.
"Leaf Blade!"
Sceptile whipped its arms forward, the blades on its elbows merging into a single, glowing emerald edge. It slashed down, the air shrieking as the light-blade tore through it!
Kashiwagi didn't panic. "Protect."
The rock-like Corsola flickered her glowing red eyes. As she hovered, smoky tendrils extended from her body, manifesting a shimmering, water-blue spherical shield just in time to catch the emerald blade!
KRRR-ACK!
The blade clashed against the barrier, sparks of static electricity exploding at the point of contact.
Didn't break through, Kashiwagi noted. He watched the clash closely, gauging the power of Sceptile's physical attack.
In the anime, Protect wasn't the absolute, undying defense it was in the games; it could be shattered by raw, overwhelming power.
It was one of the most critical nuances of battling in this world.
He'd intentionally used Protect as a diagnostic test to see if Tyson's ace lived up to the hype.
Unexpectedly... is the League Champion's starter a bit "weak"? Or is this particular Sceptile heavily invested in Special Attack?
Kashiwagi kept the pressure on. "Haze."
The shield and the blade flickered and dissolved at the same time.
Sceptile leaped backward, putting distance between itself and the Corsola, only to find the little coral creature trembling.
A massive, suffocating cloud of pitch-black mist poured out from the holes in its body, instantly swallowing half the arena.
Under the cover of the Haze, Sceptile's speed boost was instantly wiped clean, resetting the field to its base state.
Incredible move-sequencing speed!
Tyson's scalp tightened as his vision was obscured. "Use Leaf Storm to clear that Haze!"
"Sceptii!"
Sceptile roared, and a neon-green hurricane erupted from the ground, scattering the black smoke.
The gale swirled back, gathering around its massive, bush-like tail, which Sceptile used like a giant fan to sweep every corner of the arena.
But even as the Haze vanished, Corsola was nowhere to be seen. It had simply vanished into thin air.
"Watch the shadows!" Tyson yelled.
Ghost-types were masters of blending into darkness, but without any shadows to hide in, they'd be forced into the open.
Too bad Kashiwagi wasn't a static Gym Leader who'd wait for his opponent to search.
"Will-O-Wisp."
Corsola emerged from a lingering patch of black smoke, its body glowing with a faint, fiery-red aura.
Nine spectral, azure-blue orbs materialized out of thin air, tightened their formation, and spiraled toward Sceptile like a volley of guided missiles!
"Behind you!" Tyson shouted, timing it perfectly.
"Use Detect to dodge!"
"Sceptii!"
Sceptile's eyes flared with blue light. It spun, dodging with supernatural grace, jumping and weaving through the volley until all nine wisps whistled past it, missing by mere inches.
The crowd of onlookers broke into applause at Sceptile's ghost-like agility.
But Kashiwagi didn't look disappointed. Instead, a smile played on his lips.
"Curse."
"Sola..."
Corsola let out a long, haunting sigh.
A surge of pitch-black energy welled up from beneath it, taking the shape of a grotesque, clawing phantom that lunged toward the Sceptile.
"Leaf Blade!"
Sceptile raised its emerald arm-blades, charging the phantom without a hint of fear.
Slash!
But the blades passed through empty space.
Sceptile watched in disbelief as the phantom sidestepped its attack, shrieked in delight, and dove straight into Sceptile's chest.
"Sceptii!"
Pain etched across its face, Sceptile dropped to one knee. The Curse was gnawing at its vitality, a constant, ticking clock on its remaining stamina.
Tyson reached for his Poké Ball decisively.
"Return, Sceptile—"
"Whirlpool!"
Kashiwagi's command was lightning-fast.
With a thunderous roar, a bright-blue, triangular vortex of water formed instantly above Corsola's head.
It surged forward in a relentless rush, swallowing Sceptile whole and shattering the red recall beam halfway between the ball and the Pokémon!
BOOM!
"Sceptii—!"
Sceptile wailed, battered by both the crushing water pressure and the lingering effects of the Curse.
Too fast! Tyson gritted his teeth.
"Sceptile! Break out! You can do this!"
Before the match, he'd figured that Kashiwagi, coming from a background in Pokémon Contests, would have some technical skill—he was challenging a Gym, after all. But he never imagined he'd be this ferocious.
He was being pinned down from start to finish!
The only saving grace was the foundation of years of training and the unyielding willpower forged in countless battles.
With its trainer's desperate encouragement, Sceptile slammed its tail into the ground, using the recoil to blast itself out of the Whirlpool.
...Only to fall straight into a second hell.
"Will-O-Wisp."
The nine azure fireballs orbiting Corsola swiveled, acting with a predatory intelligence as they swarmed Sceptile.
Tyson screamed, "Detect!"
Sceptile's eyes flared blue, but before it could analyze the trajectory, the spectral flames hammered into it one after another.
POW! POW! POW! POW!
Fire splashed everywhere. By the time the last wisp landed, Sceptile's body was covered in charred burn marks, smoke rising from its skin.
On top of the Curse, Sceptile was now Burned.
Tyson managed to recall it, finally. The inside of the Poké Ball couldn't heal the burn, but it would at least stabilize the damage.
Kashiwagi couldn't help but feel a flicker of regret.
Lacking a finisher, huh?
If he'd had a different Pokémon on the field, it would have ended the fight the moment Sceptile gave that opening.
But Corsola's strength wasn't raw burst damage; it was the slow, inevitable pressure of sustained attrition.
Still, it was a solid performance. Every Pokémon had its own way of dancing on the battlefield.